Love at first sight

CHAPTER 19

OMPHILE – POV

I made my goodbyes with a light heart, grabbing my handbag and car keys, smiling to myself as I walked out.

For the first time in a long while, my sister was okay.

Really okay.

Olerato had been through hell—emotionally, physically, spiritually—and watching her smile again felt like a personal victory. I thanked God silently as I locked the door behind me. Whatever this thing was with Khayelihle, I hoped it stayed pure and gentle. But if that man ever hurt her… I wouldn't hesitate. Royalty or not.

I got into my car and drove off, music playing softly, the city alive with Christmas energy. People were shopping, laughing, rushing around with purpose. I decided to treat myself—just a little.

I stopped at Zara first.

Dresses everywhere.

I browsed slowly, touching fabrics, holding a few against my body, imagining tomorrow. Eventually, I picked a dress that hugged me just right—elegant but dangerous in a quiet way. I smiled at my reflection. Not bad, Omphile. Not bad at all.

From there, I went straight to the salon. A fresh frontal install, neat and flawless, just how I like it. Nails next—clean, classy, deadly. By the time I walked out, I felt like a new woman.

Hungry and satisfied, I headed to Debonairs Pizza. I ordered three large pizzas—because Christmas meant food, and food meant happiness. As I waited, my phone buzzed with messages from home, teasing me about disappearing.

I grabbed the pizza boxes and turned to leave.

And then—

Boom.

I walked straight into a wall.

No—worse.

A chest.

Hard. Solid. Warm.

"Ngiyaxolisa, mama," a deep voice said instantly.

I staggered back slightly, embarrassed. "No, I—"

Then I looked up.

And forgot how to breathe.

Haaa.

Oh my God.

This man was fine in a way that should be illegal in public places. Tall. Broad shoulders. Calm eyes that looked like they had seen too much and survived it anyway. His jaw was sharp, his presence heavy, commanding without trying.

Our eyes locked.

And just like that, my brain short-circuited.

Damn.

I could feel it—heat rushing to places it had no business going in a pizza place. My heart started racing, my palms suddenly sweaty. I was weak. Completely.

He noticed.

A slow smile tugged at his lips, confident but not arrogant. Curious.

"You okay?" he asked.

I swallowed. "Yes. I mean—no. I mean—yes. I'm fine."

Smooth, Omphile. Very smooth.

He chuckled softly. "Good. I'd hate to knock you unconscious before Christmas."

I laughed despite myself. "That chest should come with a warning sign."

He raised an eyebrow. "I'll keep that in mind."

There was a pause. One of those heavy pauses where something unspoken hangs in the air.

"I'm Andile," he said finally, extending his hand.

I shifted the pizza boxes to one arm and took his hand with the other. The moment our skin touched, electricity shot up my arm.

Lord help me.

"Omphile," I replied. "Nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine," he said, his eyes lingering just a second too long. "You look like someone who causes trouble."

I scoffed. "Excuse me?"

He smiled wider. "The good kind."

I shook my head, smiling now. "You don't even know me."

"I don't have to," he replied calmly. "Some things announce themselves."

I felt my cheeks warm.

This man was dangerous.

"Well, Andile," I said, stepping back slightly before I embarrassed myself further, "it was… nice bumping into you."

He laughed. "Literally."

As I turned to leave, he spoke again. "Maybe we'll bump into each other again."

I glanced back at him, meeting his eyes. "Maybe."

I walked out with my heart pounding, pizzas balanced dangerously in my arms, my mind completely off track.

Christmas was about to get very interesting.
ANDILE – POV

What the hell just happened?

I stood there for a good few seconds after she walked out, my mind completely blank, my heart beating like I'd just run a marathon. I had gone to Debonairs for food—food. And somehow, I walked out having bumped into something far more dangerous than hunger.

Wife material.

That's the only way to explain it.

The way she looked at me… calm but curious. Soft but sharp. And her voice—steady, confident, like a woman who knows exactly who she is. My body reacted before my brain could catch up, heat rushing through me in a way I hadn't felt in a long time. I had to shift, breathe, get myself together like a grown man.

And then it hit me.

I didn't ask for her number.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath.

I replayed the moment over and over as I drove back to the palace—her eyes, her laugh, the way she carried herself like she belonged anywhere she stood. That wasn't a random encounter. No. That felt like destiny playing games.

The palace was busy when I arrived. Christmas preparations were in full swing—staff moving everywhere, decorations being adjusted, laughter echoing through the corridors. Normally I'd enjoy the noise. Today, it barely registered.

I needed the boys.

Immediately.

I found them in the lounge—Castro sprawled on a couch like he owned the place, Nhlanhla sitting calmly with his phone, Melikhaya laughing loudly about something stupid, Khaya standing near the window looking annoyingly peaceful, and Sbu pacing around like he had energy to burn.

"Guys," I said, walking in fast.

They all looked at me at once.

Castro squinted. "Why do you look like you've just seen God?"

"I think I did," I replied.

Khaya raised an eyebrow. "Talk."

I dropped onto a chair, running a hand over my face. "I just met the most dangerous woman I've ever laid eyes on."

Melikhaya leaned forward instantly. "Dangerous how?"

"Quietly," I said. "The kind that doesn't shout, doesn't try, but still ruins your life."

They burst out laughing.

Sbu clapped his hands. "Yhoo! Andile is finished."

"I'm serious," I said, pointing at them. "I walked into her. Literally. And just like that—boom. Done."

Nhlanhla finally looked up. "Did you get her number?"

I stared at him.

Silence.

Khaya let out a slow laugh. "You didn't."

"I forgot," I admitted. "My brain stopped working."

Castro stood up dramatically. "A moment of silence for Andile's missed opportunity."

"Shut up," I snapped, but I was smiling. "I've never felt like this. Not even close."

Khaya studied me carefully, a knowing look in his eyes. "What's her name?"

"Omphile."

The name felt good in my mouth. Right.

Khaya's expression shifted. Just slightly.

"Omphile Moagi?" he asked.

My head snapped up. "You know her?"

A slow smile spread across his face. "That's Olerato's sister."

The room exploded.

"What?!" Castro shouted.

Melikhaya laughed loudly. "The universe is unserious!"

Sbu shook his head. "You see? Wife material confirmed."

I leaned back, stunned, then started laughing—deep, disbelieving laughter. "So you're telling me I bumped into the sister of the woman who saved your life?"

Khaya nodded. "Exactly."

I exhaled slowly, a grin settling on my face. "Then I'm definitely seeing her again."

Nhlanhla smirked. "This Christmas is about to be interesting."

I looked around at them—my brothers, my chaos, my family—and for the first time in a long while, I felt that familiar spark of excitement.

I didn't get her number.

But fate had already done the introductions.

And I wasn't about to let that end at a pizza place.