The hotel suite was quiet except for the hum of the air conditioner and the distant rhythm of city traffic below. Durban's skyline blinked through the glass like a thousand tiny witnesses, but none of them saw what was happening inside.
Nokwanda stood by the window, wrapped in a silk robe that barely clung to her shoulders. Her long, dark braids cascaded down her back, untouched by the soft light. She cradled a glass of still water, her lips pressed against the rim but not drinking. Her gaze was fixed on the horizon, as if trying to see beyond the present, beyond the pain, beyond the ghost she still loved.
Behind her, the hotel bed was in disarray—creased sheets, discarded clothing, and the unmistakable scent of shared heat and unsaid things. Thando sat at the edge of the bed, a sheet pulled over her chest, watching Nokwanda with silent exhaustion.
It wasn't the sex that drained her. It was the silence that always followed.
"You always go somewhere else," Thando finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Nokwanda didn't turn around. She blinked slowly, like someone waking from a dream. "I'm here."
"No, you're not. Not with me. Not really." Thando pulled her knees to her chest. "You disappear every time we touch."
Nokwanda took a long sip of her water. "Maybe it's because this isn't real."
Those five words sliced through Thando like glass. She stood slowly, letting the sheet fall away, revealing a vulnerable nakedness that had nothing to do with her body.
"Not real?" she repeated. "So what are we doing, Nokwanda? What have we been doing for two years?"
The words "two years" echoed in the room like thunder. Two years of late-night calls. Two years of business class flights to secret destinations. Two years of holding hands only behind closed doors. Two years of Thando waiting for Nokwanda to choose her. To truly choose her.
"I never asked you to stay," Nokwanda replied, still facing the glass. "You knew what this was."
"No. I hoped it would become more. You let me hope." Thando's voice trembled, but she steadied herself. "You let me fall for you, Nokwanda. You didn't stop me."
Nokwanda turned around slowly, her face unreadable. "Because part of me wanted it. Still wants it."
"But the rest of you?" Thando asked. "The rest of you is still lying in the grave with Zenande."
The name cracked something inside the room. Nokwanda closed her eyes, letting the pain wash over her.
"You don't get to use her name like that," she said quietly.
"I'm tired of walking on eggshells," Thando snapped. "Zenande died. I'm sorry. I know she meant everything to you. But you're still alive. You're building an empire, owning properties, launching fifteen companies in two years. You're unstoppable out there. But in here," she gestured between them, "you're stuck in a ghost story."
Nokwanda walked to the minibar, poured herself a double of whiskey, and knocked it back without flinching.
"You think I haven't tried to move on?" she asked, placing the glass down. "You think I don't wake up every day praying I'll forget her voice, her laugh, her smell? But I can't. She's everywhere. She's in the damn wallpaper. The cars I buy. The decisions I make. Every contract I sign, I ask myself if she'd be proud. Every mirror I look into, I see her hand on my back."
Thando's eyes welled up. "Then what am I to you?"
"You're comfort," Nokwanda said honestly. "You're warmth. You're… what I need to survive the nights."
"But not what you need to live the days?"
Nokwanda didn't answer. That silence was her answer.
Thando picked up her clothes slowly, her hands shaking as she dressed in the quiet. "I love you, Nokwanda. And I know you'll probably never love me like you loved her. But I hoped you'd at least try."
Nokwanda looked at her, pain flickering across her face. "I am trying. Every day."
"Not hard enough."
There was a long pause before Thando asked softly, "Do you even believe you can love again?"
Nokwanda hesitated. "I don't know."
Tears slipped down Thando's cheeks. "Then I can't stay. Not like this. Not when every kiss feels like betrayal to a ghost I can't compete with."
She walked to the door, stopping with her hand on the handle. "When you're ready to live in the present, call me. But until then... I'm done being your secret."
The door closed with a soft thud.
Nokwanda stood in the center of the room, alone again. She didn't cry. She never did. But as she looked back at the empty bed, she whispered to no one, "Zenande… why does it still hurt like this?"
Outside, the city continued to glow, oblivious to the quiet heartbreak happening above.
It had been four years since Zenande's death.
Four years since the world had swallowed Nokwanda whole and spat her out as someone colder, quieter, and less alive than she used to be.
But time does not stop for broken hearts.
In those years, Thando had been a constant—loyal, warm, and patient.
She had never tried to replace Zenande. She knew better.
Instead, she stood beside Nokwanda through the pain, slowly earning her space in the cracks where light tried to return.
They had known each other for years.
They laughed before they ever kissed.
They mourned before they ever touched.
And now, after all the waiting, healing, and aching, they had finally moved in together — a quiet house in the suburbs, painted soft cream with a garden that bloomed even when Nokwanda didn't.
They had been living there for two weeks.
But not everything had settled.
Each day after work, Nokwanda followed the same silent ritual —
She would drive not home, but to her old house.
The house she once shared with Zenande.
She never stayed long.
Just enough to walk through the rooms, touch the faded picture frames, breathe in the lingering scent of yesterday.
Then she would return to the new house, where Thando waited.
Thando never questioned it.
Not once.
She simply made sure Nokwanda's tea was hot when she got back, the lights were dim, and the space was warm.
But tonight…
Tonight, Thando waited a little longer than usual before speaking.
"You still go there every day," she said gently, as Nokwanda sank into the couch beside her.
Nokwanda didn't lie. "Yes."
Thando nodded. "I'm not asking you to stop."
"I know," Nokwanda replied, her voice soft.
"It's just…" Thando paused. "Do you come back because you want to… or because you feel like you have to?"
Nokwanda stared at her. "I don't know."
Silence stretched.
"I miss her," she confessed. "But not in the same way anymore. I go there to remember… but when I come back here, to you… it feels like I'm coming home."
Thando's heart melted quietly, but she hid it with a small smile.
"You don't have to choose, you know," Thando whispered. "Love doesn't mean replacing someone. It just means making space."
Nokwanda looked away, her throat tightening.
"I want this with you," she whispered. "I'm trying."
"I know," Thando said. "And I'm not going anywhere."
They curled into each other — two souls tangled between the past and the present, learning how to live in the after.
Far away… or perhaps, closer than they thought…
A shadow moved unseen.
Zenande.
She had died. The world had moved on.
But her spirit had not.
From the corners of forgotten spaces, she watched Nokwanda go in and out of their old home, touched by her presence.
Still loved. Still remembered.
But not finished.
What she had started in life…
…she would finish in death.
Because sometimes, love refuses to stay buried.
Six years had passed since Zenande's death.
At least, the world thought she was dead. In truth, she had watched everything from afar — every tear Nokwanda cried, every sleepless night, every company she built, and most painfully, every time Nokwanda laid in another woman's arms. But over the years, what once ignited jealousy and rage slowly turned into something else.
Zenande started to understand. Love doesn't disappear with grief — it evolves, it transforms. And what she saw between Nokwanda and Thando wasn't just a fleeting phase. It was a slow-burning, steady, respectful connection — different from theirs, but powerful in its own right.
She watched as Nokwanda came alive again. The woman who once drank to numb her pain was now a powerful business force, owning garages, hotels, logistics companies, even a media house. And yet, she still went to the old house — the one that held Zenande's memory. She still whispered Zenande's name when no one could hear. She still lit a candle on her birthday. Zenande was never forgotten.
Two weeks into living in the new house with Thando, Nokwanda's habits hadn't changed. After work, she'd often drive to her old place — the one she called "Zenande's home" — sit in silence, and then return to the house she shared with Thando, pretending all was well.
But something was shifting.
Thando noticed.
One night, as they lay in bed, Thando turned and placed her hand on Nokwanda's cheek. "You still love her, don't you?"
Nokwanda hesitated. "I'll always love her. She was my soul. But you... you've healed parts of me that even Zenande couldn't touch."
It was the most honest thing she had ever said.
Thando didn't flinch. She kissed her forehead. "Then let's be two souls walking with her memory between us — not in front of us."
They kissed. Passionately. Lovingly. And Zenande watched.
At first, she had hated seeing them together. The jealousy had nearly broken her. But after six years of hiding in the shadows, faking her death, and plotting her return, she was finally ready to admit the truth — she was in love with them both.
Not romantically. Not fully.
But watching them make love, watching Thando worship Nokwanda's body with tenderness and respect, hearing Nokwanda whisper Thando's name while lost in pleasure — it no longer hurt. It stirred something inside her. A peace she hadn't felt in years.
And in the dark, far away, Zenande touched her own heart and whispered to herself, "She's okay. She's finally okay."
But she wasn't done.
There were still enemies out there. People who had tried to end both their lives. People who celebrated when the world believed Zenande was dead. Those people were still walking free, thinking they'd won.
Zenande knew her time to return wasn't now. But it was coming.
Soon.
And when it did, the world would know: Zenande Zulu never died — she just became a ghost with unfinished business.
3 months later, Nokwanda returns to her old home unexpectedly…
Nokwanda stepped into her old house, flipping on the lights out of habit. The scent of dust mixed with old memories. She hadn't been back here in three months since moving in with Thando. The silence in the house felt heavy… until—
"So you still remember this place?"
The voice cut through the air like a knife.
Nokwanda froze. Her eyes widened, then narrowed as she slowly turned.
Zenande.
Standing there. Alive. Calm. Like a ghost that refused to stay buried.
"Zenande?" Nokwanda whispered, stunned. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Zenande stepped forward, her tone soft. "I've been watching… I needed to see you alone."
Nokwanda's chest tightened with rage and disbelief. Her hands shook.
"You've been watching me? What kind of sick—no. No, you don't get to show up like this!" she shouted, her voice rising. "You were DEAD, Zenande! Dead for FOUR DAMN YEARS! I mourned you. I broke over you. And now you're just here like you never left?"
"I couldn't come back. I didn't know how," Zenande tried to explain. "Everything changed."
"You think I care about your excuses?" Nokwanda snapped, her voice shaking with fury. "You watched me from a distance? Let me cry myself to sleep? Let me scream your name in pain—and Nokwanda's fury takes over as Zenande stands quietly in front of her.
"You watched me from a distance? Let me cry myself to sleep? Let me scream your name in pain—and you were alive?!" Nokwanda's voice cracked with emotion, her chest heaving. "You watched me move on with Thando, watched me build a life without you, and you just let it happen?"
Zenande swallowed hard, taking a hesitant step forward. "I didn't know how to come back, Noks. I saw you smiling again… I thought maybe it was better that I stayed away."
"You don't get to decide what's better for me!" Nokwanda shouted, her eyes now glistening with tears. "You left me in pieces, and I had to pick myself up. I had to survive without you. I buried you in my heart. Do you know what it cost me to let go of you?"
Zenande tried to reach for her arm, but Nokwanda jerked away violently.
"Don't you dare touch me!"
The heat in the room was unbearable. The silence between them buzzed with tension.
Then, without warning, Nokwanda raised her hand and slapped Zenande hard across the face.
Zenande's head turned with the impact, but she didn't fight back.
Nokwanda stepped closer, shaking. "That was for breaking me."
And again—a second slap, harder this time. "And that—was for watching me suffer while you hid like a coward!"
Zenande stood still, her cheek burning, her lips slightly parted. "I know I hurt you."
"Hurt me?" Nokwanda growled. "You destroyed me."
They stood inches apart. Nokwanda's breathing was heavy. Her eyes still burned with pain.
"I'm with Thando now. I've tried to build something honest. Something stable. And now you show up, after all these years, after I've finally managed to smile without choking on guilt."
Zenande blinked back her own tears. "Do you love her?"
Nokwanda didn't respond immediately.
"I care for her. Deeply. She was there when I needed someone. When you weren't."
Zenande's face fell. Her voice cracked. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I never stopped loving you, Noks."
"Well, I stopped waiting for you," Nokwanda spat.
Silence.
"You need to go. Before I lose the last bit of control I have left."
Zenande's eyes held hers for a moment. Then she nodded slowly. "I'm sorry."
She walked out, leaving Nokwanda trembling in the middle of the room, tears rolling down her face—but this time, they were from rage more than grief.
She didn't know what hurt more: losing Zenande the first time… or having her show up now like a shadow from a past she was still trying to bury.
"I Don't Want to Lose You"
Nokwanda's hands trembled as she unlocked the door to her house. Her mind was chaos—Zenande's return, the fight, the slaps, the way her heart still ached for her. But right now, she needed peace… and that peace was in Thando's arms.
As soon as she stepped inside, she saw Thando coming from the kitchen, wearing her favourite hoodie, her face lit with love. That look almost broke Nokwanda completely.
"Hey, baby," Thando smiled, walking up to her. "You're home early. Is everything okay?"
Nokwanda didn't say a word. She just walked into Thando's arms and held her tight, burying her face in her neck.
Thando wrapped her arms around her. "Nokwanda? You're shaking. What happened?"
Nokwanda pulled back slightly, her eyes already wet. "I… I don't want to lose you."
Thando blinked. "What are you talking about?"
Nokwanda swallowed hard, her voice cracking. "I saw Zenande today."
Thando stiffened.
"She's not dead," Nokwanda whispered. "She faked it. She was watching me all this time… she's been alive, and I found out today by accident when I went back to the old house."
Thando slowly stepped back. "Zenande. Your ex. The one you thought was gone forever?"
Nokwanda nodded.
There was a long silence between them. Then Thando asked the question Nokwanda was dreading.
"And how do you feel?"
Nokwanda sat down on the couch, her voice barely a whisper. "Broken. Confused. Angry. But also… guilty. Because part of me… still loves her."
Thando stayed quiet, but her eyes darkened.
"I don't want to lie to you," Nokwanda said, looking up at her. "I love you. You've saved me, Thando. You gave me life when I thought mine was over. I swear to you, what we have is real. But when I saw Zenande again… my heart got confused."
Thando sat beside her. "So… what are you saying?"
"I'm saying I don't want to lose you, Thando. But I also can't lie and say my heart is untouched by Zenande's return."
Thando leaned back, her arms crossed. "So… you're falling in love with both of us?"
Nokwanda wiped her tears. "Yes. And it's tearing me apart."
Thando let out a long breath, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Then she turned to Nokwanda.
"I'm not going to compete, Nokwanda. I've been honest with you. I've loved you with everything in me. But I won't share you. I deserve more than being second to a ghost who chose to disappear."
"I know," Nokwanda whispered. "I know what I'm asking sounds impossible. I'm just telling you what's real."
Thando stood up, pacing. "So what now? Are you going to see her again? Are you going to sleep with both of us and pretend you're innocent?"
"No!" Nokwanda stood too. "I just want to be honest. I don't have the answers yet. But I want to fight for us."
Thando stared at her for a long time. "You've never lied to me before. That's the only reason I'm still standing here."
Then she added, "But Nokwanda… if you choose her again, don't come back to me expecting me to stay."
Nokwanda's heart cracked at those words.
"I understand," she whispered.
Thando nodded. "I need space. Just a day or two to think. Please."
Nokwanda looked down. "Okay."
And then, Thando turned and walked into the bedroom, closing the door gently behind her.
Nokwanda stood in the silence of the lounge, the weight of two hearts on her shoulders.
One from her
us. With this life. She said she watched us. She knows about you. She knows how I moved on. And… I saw it in her eyes. She's not just angry—she's jealous. She wants what we have."
Thando stood up slowly, her voice low but sharp. "You're telling me your ex—someone you buried—is alive, jealous, and now in love with both of us?"
Nokwanda stood too. "I don't know what she wants exactly, but… I know that look. Zenande doesn't just give up. She's not back just to forgive or forget. She's back to reclaim something. Or someone."
Thando stepped back, a storm growing in her chest. "Do you still love her?"
Nokwanda paused… "I'll always care about her. But I'm in love with you."
"That's not what I asked," Thando snapped.
There was silence between them. A silence filled with old ghosts and new fears.
Then Nokwanda's voice broke the quiet: "I didn't ask for any of this. I didn't ask for her to come back. I didn't ask for my past to chase me. But it's here now, and I need to deal with it—we need to deal with it."
Thando folded her arms. "No, Nokwanda. You need to decide. If she really is in love with both of us, then this just became a war. Because I'm not sharing. I won't fight for what I already have."
Nokwanda nodded slowly, her chest tightening. "I understand. I'll handle it. Just don't walk away from me."
Thando didn't reply immediately. Instead, she walked past Nokwanda, heading toward the bedroom. But just before she closed the door, she said quietly, "Don't make me regret loving you."
And the door shut.
Nokwanda stood alone in the lounge. The weight of two hearts—one in the past, one in the present—crushing her from both sides.
And somewhere out there… Zenande was watching.