Chapter 13

Chapter 13

"Zuko!" I hissed, turning on him the second Thabo was out of earshot. "What is wrong with you? Why did you have to scare him like that?"

"Scare him?" Zuko asked, looking remarkably innocent. "I was being a gentleman. I even apologized for interrupting."

"We both know you're lying," I argued. "You were standing there like you were ready to break him in half. It was intimidating, and you know it."

"If a man is intimidated by a greeting, that's his problem, not mine," he replied nonchalantly, though the muscle in his jaw was still tight.

Before I could tear into him again, my mother emerged, smoothing her Sunday hat and looking radiant.

"There you are!" she said, walking over to us. "Zuko, that was a lovely gesture, driving us. Truly."

Zuko bowed his head slightly. "It was my pleasure, Mama."

"Well, we can't let you go on an empty stomach," she said, reaching out to pat his arm. "Why don't you come back with us? I'm making a full Sunday dinner. I'd love for you to join us."

My heart sank. I looked at Zuko, silently begging him to make an excuse. He looked at me, smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "I would be honored, Ma. Lead the way."

As we walked toward the car, I felt the trap closing in. He had cleared the competition, won over my mother, and now he was moving into my home.

Zuko had somehow managed to insert himself into the heart of the home. He had insisted on helping, even going so far as to don one of my mother's floral aprons.

"I've got the carrots, Ma," he said, his voice easy as he picked up a peeler.

As we moved around the cramped space to prep the rest of the dinner, his hand lingered against my arm as he reached for a bowl but I kept my eyes fixed on the onions I was dicing, my throat tight.

My mother leaned against the counter, her expression softening as she watched him. "You know, Zuko, you have a good heart for service. It makes me wonder... where does a young man like you come from? Your parents must be proud."

The room seemed to grow a few degrees colder. Zuko's hand stilled on a carrot. He didn't look up and his jaw tightened. "My father... he's been gone a long time. And my mother... well, she's in a mental hospital."

"Oh, when she coming out?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "It's like ..the prison type. Charged for arson." He fake smiled.

My mother paused, a look of sudden realization dawning on her face. "Wait... Msingo…Zuko Msingo? The fire?"

He finally looked up, his eyes dark and hollow. "Yes, Ma."

The pity that flooded my mother's face was almost painful to see. She reached out, briefly touching his hand. "Oh, my boy. I remember that news. We all felt such sorrow. To be a child in that... what happened with your mother? Why would she do such a thing?"

Zuko took a slow, steady breath. "She wasn't herself. The doctors said she had brain damage, something that made her mind stop functioning properly."

"And how is she doing now?" my mother asked softly, her voice thick with empathy. "Do you still see her? And how did the accident happen?" I couldn't take it anymore. The way Zuko's knuckles had turned white against the peeler told me he was seconds away from breaking.

"The service was so long today, wasn't it, Ma?" I interrupted, my voice a bit too loud. "I thought the Bishop was going to talk until sunset."

My mother blinked, startled by the sudden shift, but she took the bait. "Oh! Yes, it was long."

"They're selecting the new *amagosa* committee soon. You should nominate yourself, mom. Or maybe I'll just do it for you."

She groaned, tossing a handful of onions into the pan. "No, no. I don't want that stress."

"I could join to nominate you as well." Zuko interjected, a small, forced smile returning to his face as he tried to lighten the mood.

"Maybe I'll nominate her. I'm sure I'd look

great in those committee meetings." I said.

"Or maybe I should nominate myself." I said.

My mother let out a bright laugh, the tension finally snapping. "You? An *igosa*? "

Zuko and I laughed as we both reached for the salt cellar at the same time, Zuko's fingers slid over mine. That sent a warm squeeze that sent a jolt straight up my arm.

I cleared my throat sharply, pulling my hand away and moved to the other side of the stove. I could feel his gaze on the back of my neck.

After dinner, I wasn't sure if I should leave today. Usually I do but it was a little late.

Mom looked at Zuko, then at me.

"Zuko, it's late my child and the taxis are scarce," my mother said, wiping her hands on her apron. "Since you're heading back anyway, why don't you give Omphile a lift to her residence? It's much safer than her wandering about."

"Ma, I can manage," I said quickly, the panic rising. I wasn't ready to be alone in a confined space with him. Not yet.

"It would be my pleasure, oledi," Zuko said. He didn't look at me; he was too busy stacking the last of the side plates. "Actually, why don't you sit down? I'll handle the dishes before we go. A guest shouldn't just eat and run."

I watched him, my jaw tight, as he rolled up white shirt and began scrubbing the pots. I was beyond annoyed. He was *performing*. He was the perfect, dutiful son-in-law-to-be, winning the Oscar for Best Supporting Actor in a South African Drama.

"Let's go," he finally said, drying his hands and nodding toward the door. My mother waved us off with a "God bless you, Zuko," and I felt like the world was turning upside down.

The walk to the car was silent. He opened the passenger door for me. I climbed in, staring straight ahead.

He started the engine, I expected the familiar route toward the university, seems like he's taking a different route. He pulled up in front of a neat, well-maintained RDP house. It sat under a single streetlamp, quiet and unassuming.

"What is this, Zuko?" I asked, my voice trembling with a new kind of heat. "This isn't res."

"It's my place," he said quietly, switching off the ignition.

"Take me to res. Right now. I didn't ask to come here, and I certainly didn't give you permission to kidnap me for the night." I turned to him.

"Who do you think you are? You show up at my house unannounced! You manipulate my mother! You perform for the church! And for what? So I can forget that you treated me like dirt at the track? So I can forget that Amanda is marking her territory?"

"I have nothing with Amanda!" he snapped, his voice finally cracking, showing the grit beneath the polish.

"She doesn't think so!" I shouted, my hands flying in the air. "She thinks you're hers! She thinks I'm just some 'project' you're bored with!"

"I lost business today because of her!" He gripped the steering wheel. "I walked away from a client because she tried to use you as a pawn. I threw money away, Omphile. I risked my standing because I love you and I won't let her breathe near you. Does that sound like someone who is 'with' her?"

I froze. The word *love* hung in the air, heavy and bruised. My anger flickered for a second. I looked away, my chest heaving, and my hand nervously reached for the glove compartment, a mindless, fidgety habit. I clicked it open, looking for a napkin to wipe the tears I refused to shed.

The compartment dropped open. My heart stopped.

A gun. I looked at Zuko.

"What is this?" I whispered, my voice barely audible. "What is his, Zuko? What's your deal? Are you... are you one of those people we see on the news? Are you a gangster?"

He went quiet. The guilt on his face was a confession.

"You brought this into my house," I said, my voice rising. I started shaking in fear. "You went to my church! You sat next to my mother with a gun in your car? Now it makes…" I thought. "Gangsters have oops. Shit … and they're probably tracking you or something shit. And you've just busted my home, my mom, my only family!"

"Omphile, I swear on my mother, I will protect you. At the track, I was trying to protect you. "

"By keeping me a secret."

"It's better that way." I hate how he's right. I'm terrified. The reputation of dating a gangster is not a really glamorous one. The life and the fear, my heart is throbbing with fear. What have I gotten myself into?

"I understand now," I sobbed, pushing myself against the door, as far from him as possible. "I understand why everyone warned me. Why Shakes said what he said. You're a no go area. You're exactly what they said you were."

"Don't call me that," he pleaded, reaching for me, his eyes swimming with a desperate kind of pain. "I am not a no go area, baby. Omphile, look at me." He held my chin. I looked at him, tears falling on face, tears of regret. "I love you… you don't understand the happiness you've brought into my life. I do this... I do all of this because I have to.

" There are probably people out there who want to kill you, aren't there? And now they know who I am. They saw us at the event."

I fumbled for the door handle. "It's over. We're done. I can't do this."

He chuckled then looked at me. "You can't break up with me,"

"Watch me! You don't tell me what to do! You don't own me, Zuko! I can hate you, I can leave you, I can—"

His hand softly caught my throat in a soft grip, his thumb tilting my chin up. He leaned in and kissed the lights out of me.

___