CHAPTER 8
The song blasted through the room. Brenda buried herself under the comforter.
"Stop the music, Alexa!" she yelled from beneath the covers.
She didn't realize when sleep took her — or when Kai finally left.
The next morning, she went straight to work, determined to forget him.
The whole day passed without a thought of Kai — until almost clock-out time.
No texts. No calls. No sign of him.
At home, the house was silent. No Kai.
Part of her was relieved. Another part ached, missing him more than she dared admit.
Days passed. One, two, then a week.
And still, no word from him.
She concluded that he had run away again—just like before—only this time, she had played a part in his disappearance from her life. The thought knotted her chest, a familiar ache that refused to ease.
Nella had just returned from her vacation and was sitting comfortably in Brenda's living room. The soft hum of the city outside contrasted sharply with the heaviness in the room as Brenda poured out everything—how Kai vanished without a word, leaving her to wrestle with unanswered questions.
"I know you love him, Brenda," Nella said, her voice gentle but firm, "and I'm not against that. But you've got to try—open yourself to new experiences. New people. Don't let your personal life freeze because of Kai." She grasped Brenda's hands, grounding her.
Brenda looked away, blinking back the sting of unshed tears. "I'll try," she promised, though the weight of those words felt uncertain.
They talked and laughed until the evening seeped deep into the room. When Nella finally stood, she flashed a wide smile.
"The scotch, please!" she said cheerfully.
Brenda handed over the bottle, watching her friend leave with a swirl of conflicting emotions. Despite Nella's encouragement, the silence Kai left behind gnawed at her relentlessly.
With trembling fingers, she grabbed her phone and dialed his number.
"You've reached Kai Graham… leave a message, and I'll get back to you."
The cold beep of the voicemail pierced the quiet. She bit her lip, unwilling to leave a message that Simone might intercept. Despair crept in, heavy and suffocating, and she let the phone drop to her lap.
At work the next day, Greg surprised her.
"Madam… I asked around, and I heard you're single!" His words hovered, uncertain if statement or question.
She blinked, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "Yes?"
"Well, I thought I could set you up with someone I know."
"A date?" Her voice was cautious, curiosity tinged with hesitation.
Greg nodded eagerly.
"I could use one," Brenda admitted, exhaling softly. "Thanks, Greg. Maybe it'll get my mind off things."
The man was set to pick her up after work; she barely had time to spare. Tossing keys to Greg, she joked, "You'll go with my car today. I'll get it tomorrow. Take care of it—it's my favorite."
"Don't worry, madam. I got it!" His grin was infectious.
When her date arrived, the door to a sleek Rover opened for her. Inside, the rich scent of leather and the smooth brown interior welcomed her.
"So, I reckon Greg told you my name?" the man asked.
"No, unfortunately, he didn't."
"My bad. Christian. Nice to meet you, Ms. Belair." He extended a hand.
"Just Brenda, please." She smiled as she shook his hand. His touch was surprisingly cool, almost detached.
They chatted easily on the way to the restaurant, Christian calm and disarming. At the table, he pulled out her chair like a true gentleman.
Scanning the menu, Brenda winced slightly at the fancy French dishes.
"What will you have?" she asked.
"I'm thinking chicken and waffle stack, and a mini classic beef and kidney pie," he said with a smile.
The waiter waited expectantly.
She chose the Crostini with apple, brie, and quick bacon jam. For dessert, an Amarula and rooibos custard tartlet.
"You ever had what you ordered?" she asked Christian.
"Nope. You?"
"Nope. They were literally the only things not written in French," she laughed, relaxing for the first time in days.
Christian was easy to talk to, and Brenda found herself opening up.
"So, tell me about yourself."
"There's not much. I'm 40, managing director. I have a son—Elijah, seven years old."
"Where's Elijah's mom?" she blurted impulsively.
"I don't know," he answered, voice plain and genuine.
Brenda blinked, surprised. "You don't know? No way you wouldn't know where your child's mother is."
"I adopted Elijah after my wife, Athena, died. I was lost, a shadow. I loved kids but had none with Athena. One day I visited an orphanage and found him—two years old, skin dark like the calm night, eyes alive and grey-green. He saved me," he said softly.
His story touched her, a rare kindness shining through. Before she could respond, their meals arrived.
As they ate, Brenda tried to focus, but a chill crawled up her spine. Turning slightly, she caught sight of Kai at a nearby table, his gaze locked on her with an intensity that froze her.
Across from him sat a red-haired woman—Simone, no doubt—draped in black silk, radiating expensive, effortless beauty. The small mole near her upper lip made her all the more striking.
Brenda's breath caught. She pretended not to see, excusing herself quietly.
In the cool sanctuary of the restroom, she stared at her reflection, heart pounding beneath the fluorescent lights. The air felt thick, heavy with jealousy she had no right to feel—but felt nonetheless.
She splashed cold water on her face, trying to wash away the burn of betrayal. Kai had been ignoring her calls and texts—deliberately. The bitter truth settled deep inside her.
Touching up her makeup, she straightened her spine and returned to the table.
"The dessert's waiting. Shall we?" Christian's warm voice pulled her back.
She smiled weakly and dug her fork into the tartlet, savoring the fleeting sweetness.
"You haven't told me about your family yet," he said gently.
Brenda swallowed, thinking of the family she'd chosen.
"I have my Nana and my Papa. They're the most important people in my life."
"That's all? No mother, father, siblings?"
"My father left to buy milk and never came back. My mother's gone. No siblings. But I have people in my life who are more than family," she said, eyes misting.
Christian smiled, the tension between them easing just a little.
"Hope I see you again soon."
Brenda nodded, sliding out of the car. "Yeah, I hope so too. Goodnight." She hurried inside, the cool night air brushing her face, but her mind was anything but calm.
Changing into her usual shorts and a baggy shirt, she tried to shake off the lingering image of Kai—his presence still raw in her memory. Christian's kindness and quiet softness echoed in her thoughts, contrasting sharply with the storm Kai stirred inside her.
Surveying herself in the mirror, Brenda admitted the truth she'd been avoiding: she was the problem. If she let herself get involved with Christian, they would only hurt each other, caught in the shadows of her unresolved past.
Her fingers traced nervously over her phone, eyes flicking to the screen, silently begging for something she wasn't sure she wanted—a text, a call, any sign from Kai.