*Listen to this ultimate bae!* 

The previous night felt like a nightmare when Thulile woke. Perhaps it was, maybe all was a dream.

Did she really witness Elije's engagement announcement like any bystander?

No, his mother didn't offer her money for her services, did she?

For some reason, her mind only registered the last part.

Too painful and humiliating, Thulile preferred to occult what hurt.

Yet what happened after she left remained clear. She sat in Lars' car and cried for an hour. The man didn't say a word or complain. He just sat, waited, and let her do until Thulile announced, "I need alcohol."

Lars said it was a bad idea. Instead, they ended up eating burgers at Park Station's Burger King.

"Aren't you going to ask?"

Lars looked at Thulile's swollen eyes and shook his head, "I'm not suicidal. I used to be curious, but I learned since. I just want to make sure you're okay?"

"Why?"

Lars reflected on the question.

"Why do you care so much?"

"I," Lars looked at his burger and turned to stare at Thulile, who sat with his suit's jacket on her shoulders, "I don't know. Partners take care of one another."

"I told youㅡ."

"I know, you'll think about it. And you're right. I'm a stranger who fell out of nowhere into your life. How can you trust me when those you've known betray you."

It was true Thulile knew Elije, yet he betrayed her. What would it be of a stranger?

Lars took the paper napkin, wiped his mouth, and said, "my first love was our next-door neighbor. She was older than me, she babysat me, and I always told myself I'd marry her. She dated my older brother. Even so, I loved her."

Again Lars spoke of himself without reserve. Thulile listened while she attempted to picture how this woman he wished to marry was.

"Years passed, and I met her again. I thought it was destiny." Lars paused as he thought of Rut and how much he loved her.

Thulile wanted to prompt him to speak but refrained from doing so. Luckily the man carried on, "some people and relationships are toxic. We convince ourselves of their benefits, but they destroy us. And it hurts so bad one just wants to die because of the massive hole it leaves. I wanted to die; I felt like an idiot."

Lars spoke while looking at his tray of food, but there he turned to face Thulile as he got to his point, "these experiences forge us and set us on a road that makes us grow. At least, I hope they do. Otherwise, I don't know what I'm doing. Somewhere along this road, we meet people. Some are passersby, others are there to help, and others are meant to stay."

Again their eyes locked on one another. Thulile's were a furnace while Lars' was a calm sea. He wished he could appease her and put out her fires with his tides.

Everything set them apart, but pain and suffering were universal, and in that, Lars understood her.

"I'll take you home."

"It's okay; you've done enough. I live very far."

"Where is far for you?"

"It's not in the heart of Joburg."

"Where?"

"Lars, listen. The place where I live isn't nice."

"You're not inviting me to sleep over, are you?"

The woman frowned, and the man saw she didn't capture the nuance of his joke.

"Thulile, it's late. Call me crazy or old-fashioned, but I'm not letting any woman roam about after midnight in Johannesburg. Please let me take you home," said the man who remembered what Steven said about women in South Africa.

They returned to his car. This time Thulile got in the passenger's seat. It was odd to have him drive her about as though he was her chauffeur.

The man who never left the residential area tried to maintain a neutral face as he followed the route instructed by his GPS. Thulile lived Alexandra. In the part that still had imikhukhu, the shacks Senara referred to when she spoke to Thulile. She gave him an address close to her home but refused him to delve deeper into the neighborhood.

Thulile got out quickly. She didn't wish for new rumors to start.

"See you on Monday, I guess," Lars said.

"You'll come?"

"Of course, I won't miss my morning coffee. I can't drink any other now."

Thulile managed a weak smile and began to walk away, and Lars waited until he saw her pull open a fence before driving off.

The woman sat up for most of the night. One thought haunted her. Elije said he didn't drink coffee before she had her truck. Did he already know what she could do when he met her?

Unable to keep her eyes open, she slept. Now the sun beamed on her face, and she sat on her bed without a thought. Her mind was a blank space as she closed the doors and dreams containing Elije. Crying over him was useless. No matter how hard it was, she had to look ahead of her.

Thulile turned to look at the chair where she threw her clothes the night before. Lars's suit jacket sat on top of her tee and jeans. The sight of it made images of the man surface.

"Some people are passersby; others are there to help."

"One is never ugly; they're just poor."

"I'm sure we can help each other."

"I'm here to make money."

Lars' words mingled with Senara's, and at that instant, Thulile knew Lars was the help she needed to become rich and change this status people used to crush her.

She grabbed her phone and scrolled until his number appeared.

"Someone answer the phone," the man mumbled before realizing it was his. Lars latched out his hand and reeled in his phone in the claw of it. He opened an eye and winked at his phone as he tried to read who the caller was.

The number was unknown, and it insisted Lars put the phone to his ear, "Hej [hello in Swedish]."

"Lars."

The man shot up, "Thulile?"

"Lars."

"Thulile, what's wrong? Did something happen?" The man panicked; the woman had never called him since he gave her his number. Lars touched his chest; his heart pounded. He never imagined hearing her voice over the phone would have this effect on him.

"I'm fine, Lars. I called to say let's do it."

"Do what?"

"Let's make coffee."

Lars fell back on his bed.

"Lars?"

"I'm still here, Thulile. Listen, I should be excited, and I am. Can we meet because I'm not entirely awake, and I just want to make sure you're sure that it isn't a kamikaze decision like getting a tattoo, enrolling in the army, or shaving one's head after a breakup"

"I'm sure."

"Still, can we meet? Let's say in an hour."

"No, I have a few things to do at home. Can it be around 5 PM?"

"Great, I'll pick you up."

"NO."

"What? It's more practical."

The woman's heartbeat stepped up, "no, don't pick me up. Don't come to my neighborhood."

"Okay, okay, chill, Thulile."

"Meet me at the truck."

"Okay, see you in a bit," Lars hung up. He avoided saying the infamous you-won't-regret-it sentence as it was when pronounced that one usually regretted.

Sunday was her chores day. She would wash and hang the clothes, cook, take care of her gran as Femi would go and do his homework with a friend. Thulile couldn't help him with his homework anymore. Her brother though young, already surpassed her academics level. She was more likely to learn from him than vice versa.

The woman got out of bed; she knew the best to do was to occupy her time. If she hesitated, even second melancholia and sadness would grab the occasion to sneak in and weigh her down. She, who thought depression only touched certain people found herself on its waiting list.

"Morning, Thulile," said her gran when she entered her room.

The older woman had watched the clock until her granddaughter's return. She wished she could hold Thulile back from doing all these things, but everything she did was for their sake.

Thulile helped her gran to get out of bed. The older woman could not help to notice her swollen eyes. One would think a vengeful bee came and stung her eyes in cascade.

The young woman undid her gran's hair, combed, and did one neat flat braid before aiding her to move to her chair.

"You'll have a new chair soon, gran," Thulile said as she placed her grand foot on the footplates and pressed the wheel lock.

Her gran patted her head, "there's no hurry. I'm okay."

Thulile made breakfast, swept. Like many African countries, South Africa wasn't immune to power outages. The most reliable way to wash small things was to handwash. They went to the laundry mat for curtains, bedspreads, and jeans, which could break one's hand while scrubbing. Even Femi hand rinsed his school shirts.

Once she finished, Thulile got ready. There was no special glow-up; Lars had seen at her worst, slapped up by Kungawo and cried out by Elije; it wasn't then that the man would scream at the sight of her. Still, she adjusted a cap.

"Gran, I'm meeting up with Nandi. I won't be late," the customary lie was out, and there was no turning back. He gran nodded, and Thulile left.

Lars was already there when Thulile arrived. The man startled her with his car horn.

Thulile lowered her cap and ran to his car.

"Wow, are we in a spy movie? Why are you always hiding?" The man said, stretching out his to tap on her cap.

The woman gave him a dark glare as she sat.

"Sorry."

"Listen, as I said we canㅡ."

Lars started his car.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm taking you to my place," the man said casually.

"Excuse me?" Thulile exclaimed louder than she intended.

"What, you didn't think we would negotiate in my car as if I'm a trick paying for a pass, did you?"

The woman opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again. She didn't know the vocabulary but understood the content, "a coffee shop would be fine," she retorted.

"I want to show you the setup."

"Set up?"

"Well, since we don't have facilities. I figured you'd need a lab. Your supplier helped me get a few things," Lars backed out of the spot, "you should be able to create with what I got."

The woman blinked.

Lars smiled all dimples out and wiggled his eyebrows, "impressed, huh?"

Thulile lowered and raised her stare as she glared at him before turning her gaze to the side.

The man tapped on her cap," ready, partner?"

Thulile turned back and lifted her hand to hit him, only to meet the man's high five. Before she could react, Lars switched gears and drove out.