Dear Deceit: A Short Story by Sihle Kheswa

Chapter V: The Letter

The Sunday morning sun filtered through the bedroom blinds, casting a harsh glow upon the dishevelled room. I awoke with a groan, my head throbbing as if an army of drummers had taken residence inside his skull. The air felt heavy, and the remnants of a night filled with revelry hung in the room like a regret-laden fog. The room spun in a disorienting waltz, and even the softest sounds felt like shards of glass piercing my senses.

Blinking away the remnants of the night, I found myself waking up next to a stunning woman – the embodiment of my dreams. The details of our exhilarating night at the nightclub flashed through my mind as I quietly admired her tousled beauty. Despite the aftermath of the celebration, she remained the most enchanting sight. Gently, I traced my fingers along the contours of her face, savouring the delicate moments before waking her. As my touch stirred her from slumber, she met my gaze with a sleepy smile, mirroring the contentment I felt waking up beside her.

She suggested that we linger in the warmth of the bed for a while longer, and I happily obliged, cherishing the tranquil embrace that followed. With a gentle kiss, our lips met, and I pulled her close for a cuddle under the warm bed covers. In that shared cocoon, we enjoyed ourselves in the peaceful aftermath of a grand party, reminiscing about the joyful events of the night before. A lighthearted conversation unfolded, punctuated by laughter, as we navigated the hazy memories. Curiosity sparked in Cebisa's eyes as she questioned the source of the funds that fueled our extravagant night, "You were 'making it rain' last night. I was so happy seeing my man calling the shots. Where did you get so much money from?", she asked. My tight-lipped response only added a layer of mystery, deepening the enigma I presented to her.

The air became charged with playful intrigue, intensifying the attraction between us. As the urgent need to visit the bathroom reluctantly pulled me from the bed, I reached for the same pair of jeans I had worn the night before. Simultaneously, Cebisa rose from the bed, her warmth lingering as she prepared coffee to help us through our shared hangover. The morning began with a mix of mystery, laughter, and the potential of a new day. The bedroom was a chaotic collage of scattered clothes, remnants of a night that had blurred into a haze of passion. The bathroom beckoned a sanctuary promising relief from the effects of the party. I moved with deliberate steps, each one a reminder of the festivities etched into my muscles and joints.

Upon reaching the bathroom, the cool ceramic of the sink welcomed me as I splashed water onto my face, trying to wash away the lingering effects of the night's indulgence. The flow of liquid against my skin sent shivers down my spine, a reminder of the wild celebration that had taken place. I winced at the pain, as the sounds of celebration transformed into a silent, throbbing chorus within my head. The toilet seat became a makeshift throne as I sought refuge, sitting in an attempt to regain some semblance of strength.

As I rested in the quiet of the bathroom, questions flooded my mind like a torrential downpour. "What on earth happened last night?". The inquiry reverberated in the depths of my mind, a puzzle waiting to be solved. With furrowed brows, I attempted to recollect the fragmented memories, each moment a brushstroke in the painted canvas of the night. Cebisa's bedroom was filled with the lingering scent of passion, the air thick with the aftermath of our shared intimacy. Amidst the chaos, a tranquil aura permeated the space, serving as a testament to the intimacy that had unfolded. I closed my eyes, seeking solace in the quiet of the bathroom, hoping to unravel the mysteries of the night.

With a sense of curiosity tinged with nostalgia, I embarked on a journey through the pockets of the jeans that carried the remnants of last night's revelry. The left pocket yielded a familiar comfort – my ATM card, a mundane yet essential tool for daily life. A subtle reassurance coursed through me as I envisioned the practicality that this small piece of plastic held.