Before the Sun Rises

CHAPTER 24: Before the Sun Rises

ONTHATILE – POV

Melikhaya was bored.

I could see it in the way he moved around the house earlier, restless, pacing, checking his phone like time was dragging its feet on purpose. Meanwhile, my own body was already awake before my mind fully caught up.

It was 05:00.

Cape Town was calling us.

I slipped out of bed quietly, not wanting to wake anyone. The house was still wrapped in that deep, early-morning silence—the kind that feels sacred, like the world is holding its breath. I went straight to the bathroom, letting the warm water run over me, washing away sleep, nerves, and thoughts I didn't want to name yet.

When I was done, I dried myself slowly and pulled on a soft maxi dress, light enough for travel but warm enough for the early hour. I let my braids fall loose down my back, running my fingers through them, feeling oddly calm and unsettled at the same time.

Cape Town meant change. Movement. Distance.

And sometimes, distance made things clearer.

I stepped outside with my phone in hand, the cool air brushing against my skin. The sky was still dark, just beginning to soften at the edges. The pool area was quiet, untouched, peaceful. I sank into one of the pool chairs, pulling my legs up slightly, just sitting there, breathing.

Everyone else was still busy inside—packing, rushing, moving like we had all the time in the world even though our flight was at 07:00. For once, I didn't want noise. I didn't want conversations. I just wanted stillness.

But peace never lasts long around Melikhaya.

I heard his footsteps before I saw him. Slow. Confident. Heavy in that way that made you aware of his presence without trying. I didn't turn immediately. I didn't need to.

He stopped behind me.

And then I saw him in the reflection of the pool water.

Damn.

Those tattoos on his arms caught the faint early light, ink tracing stories I didn't know but somehow felt. His sleeveless top clung to him, muscles relaxed but powerful, like he was always holding something back. I hated how easily my thoughts betrayed me.

I hated how fine he was.

Before I could shift or speak, his hands came down to my waist, firm, sudden. Too firm.

I gasped, the breath knocked out of me, and my body stiffened before my heart caught up.

"Melikhaya—" My voice broke as I tried to turn.

His grip tightened instinctively, not cruel but rough, unmeasured. It startled me more than I expected, something inside me cracking open without warning. Tears rushed to my eyes before I could stop them, my chest tightening painfully.

"Ow," I whispered, my voice trembling. "You grabbed me… you grabbed me too hard."

He froze.

Immediately.

His hands loosened, then slid away like he had touched fire. I stood up too fast, emotions spilling over, my vision blurring as the tears fell freely now, embarrassing and uncontrollable.

"I didn't mean—" he started, his voice lower, softer than I had ever heard it.

But I couldn't speak. The tears just kept coming, the shock mixing with exhaustion, with feelings I had been pretending not to feel. Before I could step away properly, he pulled me back—but this time gently, carefully—drawing me into his chest.

And I broke.

I cried against him, my face pressed into his chest, his arms wrapped around me not tight, not demanding, just holding. His hand came up to my back, rubbing slow circles, grounding, apologetic without words.

"I'm sorry," he murmured above my head, his voice steady but heavy. "I wasn't thinking. I swear I wasn't trying to hurt you."

I shook my head against him, fingers clutching his shirt, my body betraying me by finding comfort exactly where I shouldn't have. His heartbeat was strong beneath my ear, constant, real.

"I know," I whispered between tears. "I was just… startled. And tired."

He didn't rush me. Didn't joke. Didn't pull away.

He just held me.

The sky above us slowly shifted, the darkness thinning as morning crept in. For a moment, everything else faded—the flight, Cape Town, the people inside the house.

It was just us.

And that scared me more than the tears.

Because I wasn't crying from pain anymore.

I was crying because somewhere along the way, Melikhaya had stopped being just a distraction—and started feeling dangerously real.

And I didn't know what to do with that.

OLERATO – POV

Cape Town greeted us gently, like it knew we needed softness.

We had already landed, and somehow—because nothing about our lives was ever normal—we found ourselves in this massive lounge that looked nothing like an airport space. It felt like a private getaway. Glass walls stretching high, sunlight pouring in, two sparkling pools sitting boldly in the middle like an invitation no one could refuse.

And of course, Onthatile didn't even pretend to hesitate.

The moment she dropped her bag, she was already halfway to the pool, laughing loudly as she peeled off her cover-up. Before anyone could say her name twice, she jumped straight into the water, splashing like a child on holiday. I shook my head, laughing.

"That one," I muttered, smiling. "Water first, everything else later."

We were all in bikinis now, relaxed, unguarded, letting the Cape Town air do its thing. The stress of traveling, the early morning, all of it melted away the second I sat down.

I chose my spot instinctively—right on top of Lihle.

I sat sideways on his lap, leaning back against his chest like I belonged there. His arms came around me easily, familiar, protective without being possessive. Segametsi settled next to us, stretching her legs, already scanning the space like she was planning to live here permanently.

In front of us, the others formed a loose circle. Sbu sat comfortably, talking animatedly with Castro and Nhlanhla, their voices rising and falling with laughter. Emihle listened quietly, smiling softly, occasionally adding a comment that made everyone pause and laugh harder. Melikhaya leaned back, relaxed but distant, his gaze drifting now and then toward the pool where Onthatile was swimming.

I felt Lihle's chin brush against my shoulder as he spoke low, asking if I was comfortable. I nodded, my fingers tracing idle patterns on his arm. This—this was peace.

Off to the side, Omphile was deep in her own world with Andile. They sat close, their bodies angled toward each other, voices lowered like the rest of us didn't exist. Omphile laughed at something he said, her head tipping back slightly, her eyes glowing. Andile watched her like he was memorising her face.

I caught Segametsi's eye and raised a brow. She smirked knowingly.

The conversation around us drifted from jokes about the flight to teasing Onthatile about how she'd probably turn into a mermaid and refuse to leave the pool. Sbu laughed loudly, shaking his head, while Castro added something dramatic that had Nhlanhla clapping in fake shock.

That's when Andile shifted.

He leaned closer to Omphile, his voice soft but serious enough that she stilled. I didn't hear everything, but I saw the way he spoke—careful, respectful. He asked her if they could have a moment. Just the two of them.

Omphile hesitated only for a second before nodding.

She stood up, smoothing her bikini top slightly, glancing at me. I smiled back, already knowing. Andile offered his hand, and she took it. Together, they headed upstairs, disappearing from view like the rest of the world had politely stepped aside for them.

As soon as they were gone, Sbu let out a low chuckle and shook his head.

"Mithisa lomtwana, bafo," he said, grinning. "Before abuyela imqondo."

Laughter erupted instantly.

Castro nearly choked, Nhlanhla slapped his thigh, and even Emihle covered her mouth, trying to hide her smile. I laughed too, shaking my head, while Lihle's chest moved behind me with quiet amusement.

"That man is gone," Segametsi added casually. "Finished."

I leaned back further into Lihle, warmth spreading through me as the sun climbed higher. Onthatile swam back to the edge of the pool, resting her arms there, water dripping down her shoulders. Melikhaya's eyes flicked to her again, lingering just a second too long before he looked away.

I noticed.

I always noticed.

But I said nothing.

Because in that moment, surrounded by laughter, sunshine, and people who felt like home, I realised something simple and powerful.

This wasn't just a trip.

It was a pause from everything heavy.

And for once, we were letting ourselves breathe.