A WEB OF DECEIT ✔️

chapter 24

Thelani

Two months have passed since the night everything shifted between Lucas and me, and now our relationship has settled into a sort of rhythm. If you can even call it that. We're not perfect; we're not even good-we're just *okay*. It's almost as if we've silently agreed to maintain this give-and-take arrangement, an unspoken contract we both signed without fully realizing what we were agreeing to.

When Lucas touches me now, it feels more like a duty than a connection. The intimacy that used to stir some form of emotion in me has become nothing more than a task to be checked off. There's no warmth, no passion-just the cold repetition of obligation.

And, strangely enough, I've grown accustomed to it, as if this is something I can live with. Maybe that's the scariest part. You get used to things, even things you once thought you'd never tolerate. It's funny in a dark, twisted way-how you can adjust to almost anything when you tell yourself you have to.

Lucas hasn't changed much. He still has his moments-moments where his temper spikes out of nowhere, or where he pulls away, freezing me out without explanation. In those times, it's like a wall goes up between us, and I can't reach him no matter how hard I try.

But just when I think I can't do this anymore, that I've had enough, he comes back. He always comes back, with grand gestures-apologies wrapped in designer labels, wads of cash slipped into my purse, new gadgets to replace the ones I didn't even know needed replacing. It's like he knows the exact cost of my forgiveness and pays it willingly, with interest.

And what do I do? I accept it. I hate myself for it sometimes, but I accept it. He keeps me tethered to him with just enough generosity to soften the sting of his distance, to make it hard for me to stay mad for long. But there's always a catch. He never lets me get too comfortable, never lets me forget that our relationship is conditional, that my place in his life is fragile. And I never feel secure enough to believe I truly belong.

We did go to Cape Town, though. He promised me a trip after things calmed down, and for once, he followed through. The city was every bit as beautiful as they say-the mountains rising proudly over the ocean, the air so crisp it felt like breathing in freedom itself. Lucas was different there, too.

More relaxed, more attentive. It was like we had left all our baggage in Johannesburg, and for a brief moment, we could pretend to be like any other couple enjoying a getaway.

I let myself get lost in it-the sights, the food, the sunsets that seemed to last forever. For a few days, I allowed myself to forget about everything that was wrong, and just *be*. I deserved that much, at least. Cape Town was an escape, a fleeting taste of happiness that I held onto with both hands, knowing it would slip away the moment we returned to reality.

And reality did come back. As the year drew to a close, my exam results came in, and they were better than I expected-much better. It was a small victory in a sea of uncertainty, a reminder that no matter what, I was still capable of achieving something, that I hadn't completely lost myself in all of this. It was a good feeling. I needed that, especially when so much of my life felt out of my control.

But even that sense of accomplishment couldn't fill the void left by Mbali. We haven't spoken since she found out I was staying with Lucas. She was furious, and I don't blame her. She couldn't understand why I'd stay after everything. Hell, sometimes I don't even understand. I've tried to reach out, sending text after text, hoping for something-anything. But all I get are those cold, indifferent blue ticks. She's cut me off completely, and it hurts more than I care to admit.

I miss her laugh, her ridiculous jokes that always managed to pull me out of the darkest moods. I miss her company, the way she could light up a room without even trying. I sent her another message today, trying one last time to break through her walls. But she ignored it again. I'm starting to wonder if I've lost her for good.

This morning started off no better. I dragged myself out of bed, my body heavy with a kind of exhaustion that sleep can't fix. I went to the kitchen, trying to force myself to eat something-anything.

I grabbed an egg, cracked it into the pan, but the smell that hit me was rancid. Rotten. It was like death itself had seeped into the kitchen. My stomach turned violently, and before I knew it, I was running to the bathroom, barely making it in time to throw up.

Once the nausea subsided, I stumbled back into the kitchen and checked the expiration date on the carton. The eggs were still fresh-at least, they were supposed to be. But that smell... it lingered, even though I couldn't find anything wrong with the other eggs. Maybe I just got a bad one, or maybe my body was trying to tell me something I wasn't ready to hear.

Whatever it was, I couldn't bring myself to eat after that. I needed air, a change of scenery. So, I grabbed my bag and decided to walk down the street to that little coffee shop I like. Maybe being out in the world would help clear my head, give me some space to think.

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Nkosikhona

It's been two months since I found out who killed Ayanda, and with each passing day, my hatred for that family grows deeper. The Mthembus... just thinking about them makes my blood boil. They took everything from me, and I've sworn to take everything from them in return.

Thabo and I have been working on a plan-one that will strip the Mthembus of everything they hold dear. We're not just talking about their wealth; we're aiming to dismantle their entire empire, piece by piece. This isn't some petty act of revenge; it's a calculated mission to ensure they suffer the way I've suffered.

But to pull this off, we need resources, and that includes high-tech equipment that's nearly impossible to get while we're inside these walls.

Thabo will be out before me, so he's going to start making moves from the outside, securing what we need and setting things in motion. I've got four years left in here, four years to perfect our plan and ensure that when the time comes, nothing is left to chance.

When we finally strike, the Mthembus won't know what hit them. Everything they've built, everything they've taken pride in, will crumble. This isn't just about settling a score-it's about making sure they pay for every bit of pain they've caused. Four years... and then, I'll make sure they lose everything.