CHAPTER 18

AMANDA MOFOKENG - CELE.

It's been almost an hour or two since I arrived home, and Mabutho's siblings will be here in about thirty minutes. I'm almost done with the cooking — I know it's supposed to be a braai (barbecue) and I should wait for everyone to help, but honestly, I wanted to do things myself. Not that I'm finished with everything yet, but at least the salads and dessert are done. What's left is just the pap and the meat for the braai. I wrap the last salad bowl neatly with foil and take a step back to admire my work.

The door suddenly opens, and I raise my eyes — only to meet Mabutho's.

"Mkami," he says, his voice deep and calm, carrying that familiar scent that always fills the house when he walks in — a mix of nicotine, mint, wood, and spice.
(My wife.)