MEYIWA’S COTTAGES’ long hallway had several lightbulbs on its ceiling, but only the one in the middle worked. Thandi and I stood near the bathrooms beside the entrance, an area as dark as the opposite end of the hallway where Vuyani’s room was. With Vuyani’s door closed, the muffled Maskandi and chatter were the only thing with us in that rather empty hallway, but I knew it wouldn’t stay like that. I knew that the longer I delayed making a move on Thandi, someone was going to exit into the hallway and disturb our potential moment.

“I feel like hugging you,” I said, and with drunk confidence, I took a step closer to Thandi. “May I?”

As if she had long waited for me to ask, she quickly glanced down the hallway to confirm that we were alone before she threw her arms open, almost spilling her Savanna. I sobered up a little excitedly when I tightened my arms around her, and she returned the favour. We sighed simultaneously, laughed, and kept holding each other. When her arms relaxed around me, I slid the side of my face against hers, past her braids and soft cheek, until we stood forehead to forehead.

“We… uh…” Her warm breath smelled like cider and romance, advertising the taste of her lips. “I don’t think we should…”

I kissed her, and she kissed me back. And we floated, or it just felt like that.
“Wola Njabulo,” suddenly greeted Mzwakhe in an unexcited tone. He and his spicy, expensive fragrance had joined us in the hallway, turning the corner from the entrance towards Vuyani’s room. “If anyone comes here looking for me, tell them I’m not here.”

Probably mad that we were caught, Thandi shoved me back with both hands, slamming a Savanna bottle and a palm hard on my chest. She immediately seemed to regret spilling cider on my white t-shirt but nevertheless clicked her tongue and ran up the stairs.

“Tha” I stopped halfway through calling her name and turned to Mzwakhe, confused.

Nicely dressed as usual, in a blue and red golfer t-shirt and leathery black Replay jeans, Mzwakhe continued down the hallway without looking back. I glanced at my watch, took two steps past the burglar-guide entrance, and then returned my gaze to Mzwakhe. It didn’t make sense for him to arrive alone after midnight. He lived in Unit 6, an hour’s walk to MEYIWA’S COTTAGES, and he was famous for being too frugal to Uber anywhere unless he was taking a girl to his place.

“And he doesn’t want anyone to know he’s here?” I thought. “Something is wrong.”

But Ziyanda, because I was drunk that night, very drunk, I decided to avoid all negative thoughts and bask in the fact that I had just kissed Thandi. I returned to Vuyani’s room, sat on the corner of his bed and poured myself a strong mix of Jameson and Appetizer. Mzwakhe sat on a crate beside the door, visibly bothered by something but pretending to be okay as he whistled and clapped hands to Sipho and Mlu’s dance. I shrugged off whatever was bothering him as none of my business, dropped more ice into my Styrofoam cup and took long sips, smiling at how smooth I had been with Thandi.

Half an hour later, Thandi entered the room, avoiding eye contact with me, and sat on the corner of Vuyani’s bed farthest from me. That changed nothing; I continued the night with a smile on my face until at around 02:00 am when a stranger kicked Vuyani’s door open and pointed a gun at us.

Tell us: What unexpected event changed the tone of that early morning?