Caught Between Mr. Right And A Night Of Desire

Chapter 11

Nkosi's perspective 

Time flies over us but leaves its shadow behind. It was now toward the end of March, six months since that fateful night with Kananelo that lingered in his mind like a ghost. Nkosi felt the urge to track her down, but selfishness gnawed at him. Disrupting her life simply because of his feelings felt wrong. Yes, he admitted to himself that he had feelings for Kananelo, but he wasn't entirely sure what kind. Something was there, a spark that refused to fade.

He imagined her moving on, perhaps laughing with another man, and the thought stung more than he cared to admit. Yet, he was learning to live without her, finding solace in the routine of his life. Lwazi had been getting tired of seeing him moping around over a one-night stand, and Nkosi understood his frustration. It was hard to explain the weight of those memories when everyone around him seemed to move on so effortlessly.

Back to business, though—he and Lwazi closed a big deal, and knowing Lwazi, that called for a party. His brothers—Nhlanhla, Sizwe, and Nathi—were already in Durban, while his friends, Amo and Akani, were making their way from Limpopo, ready to join the festivities. Mandla, his close friend, was also in the mix, always the one to rally the group and ensure the energy stayed high. The air buzzed with excitement and anticipation, but as the day approached, Nkosi felt a mix of excitement and apprehension.

"Time to play," he muttered to himself as he scrolled through his phone, glancing at the girls he had been talking to. They were fun distractions, nothing more than that. One in particular had been keeping him company when he needed to relax. She was attractive, her laughter infectious, but despite their chemistry, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing.

As the clock ticked closer to the party, Nkosi found himself pacing in his hotel room, anticipation mingling with anxiety. He'd chosen to sit in the VIP section with his brothers and friends, a space where they could talk, listen to music, and enjoy their expensive beverages. The atmosphere was always electric there, but he felt disconnected.

When he finally arrived at the venue, the atmosphere buzzed with energy. Laughter and music collided, filling the air with an intoxicating mix of joy and freedom. Nkosi felt a flicker of excitement as he joined his friends, who were already deep in conversation, exchanging jokes and all that. Mandla raised his glass, toasting to the success that awaited them, and Nkosi laughed along, feigning enjoyment as they celebrated. Yet, the deeper he sank into the night, the more he realized that his heart wasn't fully in it.

As the night wore on, he slipped away from the crowd, needing a moment to himself. He stepped outside, the cool air hitting his face as he leaned against the railing, staring out at the twinkling lights of Durban. The sounds of the party faded, replaced by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

"Damn it, Nkosi, pull yourself together," he whispered to himself, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts as if expecting Kananelo's numbers to appear in his contact list magically. But there was nothing—no numbers. For fuck sake, he did not even know her last name. They hadn't shared anything remotely personal that night, and the realization felt like a punch to the gut. Could he really reach out if he wanted to? The thought of using his resources to track her down felt wrong, almost selfish. What if she had forgotten about him?

"Not tonight," he decided, tossing the phone back into his pocket. He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the night lift just a little. Learning to live without her was a process, and tonight was part of that journey.

Returning to the party, he plastered on a smile and let the music take over. He sat back in the VIP section with his friends and his brothers. They were comfortable in their own skin, joking around and enjoying the night, while Nkosi felt the pressure of his unspoken emotions weighing him down.