“I won’t get hurt,” says Cebo to Phindi. The two of them are inside the white Avanza, down the road from Phindi’s home in Hammarsdale. Cebo is trying to give Phindi the R2000 he got from Mrs Higgins the previous day. “I’m not doing anything illegal, babe, I promise. I drove an old white lady – you know they have a lot of money – she gave me this for that short trip and hired me as her personal driver.”

Phindi looks at the money, looks at Cebo and then looks away. “You wouldn’t tell me if you were doing something illegal, Cebo,” says Phindi. “I know you’ve dreamed of being a father for a long time and will do anything to have this child.”

“I’d do anything, yes, but not crime,” says Cebo.

“Maybe not directly,” Phindi returns her eyes to Cebo and then shifts her upper body to face him too. The tone of her voice changes as if she’s starting a new conversation. “My love,” she says. “How much was that lady supposed to pay you for that trip?”

Cebo sighs. He knows where Phindi is headed. “Sixty to eighty rand,” he says. “But-”

“No matter how nice a person is, hun,” says Phindi, “no-one would tip you more than twenty times the amount you worked for, not unless they are trying to buy you off so they can use you somehow. If this old white lady of yours can pay you this much, she doesn’t need to be riding an Uber in the first place, she should be in a limousine or something.”

Cebo clicks his tongue. “Why do you have to be so damn difficult?” he angrily throws the money in the cupholder. “Yesterday you told me that you were going to kill my child because I don’t have money, now I come back and I’ve found a way to make money, you’re telling me this rubbish!”

Phindi freezes, shocked at Cebo’s reaction. Her eyes fill with tears and her lips tremble. “Baby, we promised to always be kind to each other.”

“Is it kind of you to tell me that I’m not fit to be a father?” a tear slides down Cebo’s face and he wipes it with his forearm. “I work very hard to take care of my mother and my two little sisters. I work hard to take care of you. I always find a way to make sure no-one I love goes hungry. Why do you think I’ll fail with my own child?”

“You’re already working harder than anyone I know, love,” says Phindi. “I don’t want to put more pressure on you. If we have a child, you probably won’t sleep at all and that’s not safe. This job with the white grandma isn’t safe. You shouldn’t judge people by the colour of their skin, their age and the money they have. If the person who gave you this money was a thirty-two-year-old black man, would you have trusted him?”

Cebo thinks for a moment and then sighs. “No, I probably wouldn’t have taken the money.”

Phindi takes Cebo’s hand and looks him in the eyes. “Cebolethu Mtolo,” she says. “I love you with all my heart, babe. And I’m going to keep our child. But I beg you to take care of yourself. I need you to get enough sleep so you won’t fall asleep on the road and get in an accident. I need you to not forget to eat. And I need you to be careful with that old lady of yours. If you see anything suspicious, you should stop driving her immediately. Promise?”

A soft smile appears on Cebo’s face. “I promise, my love,” he puts his arms around Phindi and holds her tight. Another tear slithers down his face. “Thank you so much.”

Before Phindi exits the car, Cebo hands her the money again. “Babe, you’re better at saving than I am,” he says. “Keep this money with you and I’ll keep adding to it. By the time you need to go to doctors and eat nice things and all that, we should have a lot of money saved up.”

Phindi takes the money, they kiss and then she leaves. Cebo’s phone rings. He picks it up and sees “The White Grandma,” on the screen.

Tell us: What should Cebo do? What do you think about Phindi’s argument about first having money before you have children?