She isn't mad, Lars thought.

The man had to hype himself to follow through with his plan, which consisted of reminding Thulile it was just business and nothing more. The woman needed to understand it. Otherwise, the man didn't know what to do.

Lars could only proceed if feelings weren't involved. Finding love was neither a primary nor a secondary goal. The man had a thing for problematic women. He was still bitter about the last time he let a woman steal his heart.

Even though Lars cringed within at Thulile's reaction, he still looked forward to seeing her. The week without Thulile seemed the longest of his stay in South Africa. Lars refused to admit the place she took up in his thoughts. She who wasn't his type had become essential.

Lars sighed, "no, forget, man."

He estimated he did Thulille a favor as it was a little pain she felt compared to what he knew himself capable of doing.

Steven deplored Lars' reasoning thinking it was foolish to see doom in something that hadn't occurred.

"Stop playing your own God," Steven warned, only to get a "God has probably forsaken by now, considering my luck."

Now, Lars prepared himself; the man took his time. One would think it was a date if they saw Lars' motions. Shaved and perfumed, Lars desired to mark the woman's thoughts. The idea of making Thulile's mouth water at the sight of him was selfish, if not to say childish, but it didn't stop the man.

If Lars sought to look his best, Thulile hesitated between meeting the man looking shabby or making Lars regret what he did.

She finally opted for an oversized tee and joggers, guessing he would solely have the project in mind. Thulile fell back on her bed only to sit up and ponder. No, meeting him dressed this way would only comfort his choice.

At that instant, Nandi's voice came through like a tempting whisper, "sista, kill him with your beauty."

Kill him, Thulile thought. The woman had no idea the man would actually live a near-death experience thanks to a surprise visit.

It was Steven who went to open. The man frowned at the person standing on their doorstep.

"Hello, is Mr.Potsmann here?"

"Who is asking?" Steven asked.

"Can you just tell me if he's here? My name is irrelevant. He doesn't know it anyway."

The woman's words made Steven more perplexed. He had seen her somewhere, yet he couldn't place her face.

"Eh, he's not inㅡ."

Steven didn't have time to finish. The woman walked past him, "I'll wait inside."

There it was, the woman's arrogant stance slapped the man's memories into place.

"Please wait here," Steven said as he showed her the living room before leaving to fetch Lars.

"Lars," Steven said as he knocked on his bedroom door.

There was no answer.

"Lars."

"Just give me a sec," the man replied as he sought his car keys.

"There's someone here for you."

Lars stopped searching. Could it be Thulile? No, she knew he would pick her up.

"Who is it?" Lars asked.

"It's a woman. She looks a bit like that baroness you accused not so long ago."

Lars opened his bedroom door and followed Steven to the living room. What did the woman want?

"Hi," the casual greeting made shivers take the elevator down Lars' spine. Something was off. Lars looked at his watch; he was running late.

"What do you want?" Lars asked.

"What a welcome," the woman said and smiled.

"You're not welcome here, whoever you are. Do tell me who we have the honor to meet today. Are you madame la baroness or someone else?"

"Who do you want me to be? I'm in a good mood to cater," the woman replied with an uncanny lopsided smile.

"Eh, perhaps I should leave you two alone," Steven said, taking a step back, ready to exit. Something told him the show the woman and Lars would play would be sore and sour.

"No, stay, Steven."

Only those who knew Lars understood he pleaded at that instant.

"So, what brings you here?" Lars asked with the remains of his confidence.

The woman's eyes darted, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ears, "it's quite embarrassing to say."

Lars crossed his arms. He imagined the woman admitting the theft. It was about time. The man thought he would savor a moment of glory.

"It's not easy to say. I mean, we don't know each other well."

"Spit it out, will you. You don't seem embarrassed to be here, so go ahead," Lars said before glancing at his watch again. Of all the days, the woman had to pick this one to waste his time. Thulile was probably cursing him by now. No, it wasn't her style; Lars imagined the sharpened-slitted stare she would throw at his apology. He would have smiled at the thought if he wasn't in this odd situation, and the woman didn't snip his grin with her announcement.

"I'm pregnant."

Lars coughed instead of letting out the intended laughter, "good for you. What has it got to do with me?"

"Isn't obvious," the woman replied.

"No, it isn't. I don't even know your name. If it's all you have to say, get out."

"The baby is yours," the woman said and got up from the sofa to stand up to him.

"Bullshit."

"I swear. It's yours."

Lars shook his head, "Listen, the last time I saw you, you were cozy with someone else, and you were someone else. I'm a stranger to you. You made me look like a lunatic. You can't expect me to accept your word as the honest truth."

"Men are all the same. You fuck, and don't assume your responsibility."

"Excuse me, mam, but I don't think there's a man who would believe a woman who drugs men up to sleep with them before stealing their belongings."

"I didn't do that. I never drugged you. If something was in your drink, it was either someone else or your consumption."

"You're the one who had the drugs," Lars retorted.

"Don't you remember?"

Images popped into his mind. Lars did have a Xanax prescription for his anxiety and panic disorder. His intake was somewhat chaotic as he never respected the recommendations. He couldn't remember the last time he took his pills or where his medication was. Lars had stopped since his encounter with Thulile and her coffee. He even slept better. His thoughts were no longer clouded with images of his prison cell or promenades behind the grids.

"You took pills then. I have no idea what you drank," the woman explained.

Lars took a step back, "I would never take them with alcohol."

The man spoke, but he knew he was not in his right state of mind that night and the many nights before it. He did things he could barely remember during the whole period, and perhaps that night, he wasn't cautious. Of course, he wasn't. He woke up with memory loss and missing belongings.

"I'm pregnant," the woman repeated.

"I SAID IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH ME," the man yelled and grasped his head.

"It's yours," the woman replied and took a step toward him.

Lars swiped both hands on his face, "I get it. You want money. How much do you want?"

The woman smiled, "that's too easy, Mr. Potsmann."

"Excuse me?" Lars said and rose a brow at the sentence.

"Do you think I'm going to let you pay me off to get rid of it?" Roxanne shook her head and let her eyes sweep the living room. Lars was a small fry alone, but the forest behind him was a flourishing business weighing heavier in millions every passing year.

"What do you want to do, keep it?"

"Guys, I really think I shouldn't be here," Steven said. All the man wished to do was bail out before the murder occurred, and he became the first witness.

"Steven, please."

"Okay, okay," the man said, lifting his hands while squeezing butt his cheeks together for luck that he would voluntarily donate to Lars.

"What do you want from me?" Lars asked.

The woman sighed, "I just came to tell you I'm pregnant. I will have this baby. I want you to declare it yours."

Lars frowned, "why should I do that?"

"Because it's yours. I'll do all the tests necessary, and you'll see I'm telling the truth."

In the turmoil of his thoughts, Lars saw his brother Jonas' shocked face. Lars was present in Jonas's office when he discovered he had a son. Jonas had laughed nervously, but his face became grave as reality hit. Lars imagined he mimicked his brother's etched expression at that instant.

He had barely grasped and accepted what happened with Thulile that another event came to traumatize his psyche.

"Get out."

"Lars," Steven said.

"Get the fuck out of my house."

Steven stepped forward, "please excuse him. It's a lot of information you're feeding here."

"It's okay. It must be a shock. I'll be back tomorrow. Oh, my name is Roxanne, by the way."

Lars remembered why this woman appealed to him. She reminded him of another viper in the grass, but this time Lars knew he had met a boa who would swallow him whole.

What was he to do?

Thulile, rebel-grained, Lars saw his dreams crumble before he even profited from them.

In the meantime, Thulile waited. Lars was already forty-five minutes late. This didn't resemble him; perhaps something happened. She debated on whether she should call or not before remembering he was the one who wished to meet and had things to explain.

Thulile waited and watched the day slide away.

Where was he?

Femi was back from school when she decided to call. Thulile kissed her teeth and hung up once the call diverted to the answering machine.

Gosh, how she hated him.

She hoped Lars had a good reason for standing her up; otherwise, he was a dead man.

Again, the woman couldn't guess the man was buried alive by the bombshell Roxanne dropped without battering one lash.

Of course, Lars refuted the woman's words, but the doubt subsisted.

What if the baby was really his?

Hello friends,

Have a good day! [sips coffee]