CHAPTER 23

AMANDA MOFOKENG – CELE.

I glare at Mabutho, who gives me a small nod of assurance — as if silently telling me, "It's okay, talk to her." My entire body feels cold, my fingers clutching his arm tightly as if letting go would mean losing him forever. I can't believe this. I can't believe I'm standing here, talking to her — to a ghost. To Moleboheng.

My throat goes dry, but the question tumbles out anyway.
"Lee? Aren't you supposed to be dead?"

My voice trembles slightly, the air in the room feels heavier. I grip Mabutho's arm tighter, terrified that if I blink, she might vanish—or worse, take him with her. Moleboheng lets out a soft, familiar laugh. It's that same half-laugh she used to do when she found something amusing but sad. The sound freezes my heart.