Ngenhliziyo

«Thimna»

The house was warm when they got back, but the silence still held a weight. Bafana was home, finally—but one chair at the table still sat empty. Bhekinkosi still hadn't woken up.

It was late. Everyone was drained, the day heavy on their shoulders. Sphiwo moved straight to the kitchen and whipped up a quick mince pasta. Nothing fancy, but it filled the house with »a comfort they hadn't felt in a while.

This time, when they sat down to eat, people actually cleared their plates. Even the quiet ones went for seconds. It wasn't joy, not yet—but it was hunger, and hunger was a sign of life.

Afterwards, Sphiwo stayed back to clean the kitchen while Bafana went to take a shower. The sound of the water running in the background felt normal, and that in itself made her heart a little lighter.

When she was done, she walked quietly to their room. The door creaked slightly as she opened it—and there he was, sitting on the edge of the bed, finishing up wrapping his bandaged side. His back was slightly hunched, face tight with pain.

"Ouuch," he muttered under his breath.

Sphiwo stepped in and gently closed the door behind her. She didn't say anything. Just walked to him and stood in front of him.

Bafana looked up at her. His hands reached out and found her waist, pulling her closer. He rested his forehead on her stomach and let out a long, tired sigh.

She gently brushed his head with her hands, her other hand fiddling with his ear the way she always did when she wanted to soothe him without words.

"I hope he comes back home," she said quietly. Her voice cracked just slightly.

Bafana didn't hesitate. "He will," he said. Firm. Certain. "I'll make sure of it."

She leaned down and kissed his forehead.

Then he kissed her belly. A long, tender press of his lips, not just a gesture—something deeper, almost reverent.

To her, it felt sweet, maybe even comforting. Just a 'tummy kiss', she thought.

But Bafana lingered. He knew.

He pulled back and took both her hands in his. Kissed them softly, one by one.

"I love you, Sphiwo."

She smiled, eyes soft. "I love you too."

He lay back onto the bed, exhaling again, this time from exhaustion more than pain.

Sphiwo slipped into her pajamas, turned off the main light, leaving only the glow of their bedside lamp. She climbed into bed and curled up next to him, head resting on his chest.

Bafana reached out, flicked the lamp off.

They held each other in the dark, in the quiet, in the in-between.

And finally, they slept.

***********************************************************************************************

The morning light crept in slowly. Sphiwo stirred, reached across the bed—and found empty sheets.

Again.

I'm tired of waking up without him, she thought.

She lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling. Then sighed, got up, freshened up, and moved through the house trying to keep busy.

The men were gone. Bafana included. Wherever they had gone, they had left early. It was just her, Lulu, MaDlamini, and Msizi left in the house.

Being cooped up in a safe house meant she couldn't leave. So she cleaned. Cooked. Watched half a movie, then a different one. Restless, she folded laundry that didn't need folding.