Chapter 47 - Chapter 47: The Woman On The Steps

My toes tap with nerves against the white marble floor while I wait for my Uber. My suitcase is on the smaller side, just enough to get me through a week and a bit down in Cape Town. I'm not sure how long it'll take me to find a flat, especially one I can actually afford. But I figured I could use the extra days to walk around my new city, and being away from Joburg, where nobody knows my face, will be good.

There's no crowd waiting for me outside my building today, which is a bit surprising, seeing as Zondi and the team won at FNB last night and reached their first African final in eight years. But now that they've got their pictures and there's nothing left to hide, it seems the reporters couldn't care less who I am.

Soccer Laduma has nothing on its front but the final, and even though I didn't look, I'd assume anything about me or about us was a footnote next to it.

"Doesn't look like you're going to Casablanca, Miss Duma," the concierge notes, referring to the squad flying out of OR Tambo tomorrow, his eyes on the suitcase at my side.

"Not this time." I offer him a small smile before turning my attention back to the glass doors, waiting for my ride.

He stands next to me, his hands folded behind his back. "You know, Miss Duma. I see a lot. I hear a lot. And I keep a lot of secrets. But you'd have to be blind not to see how badly you're going to hurt that boy if you don't tell him you're moving."

My eyes dart to him. "How did you know?"

"Forty-seven years doing this job. You pick things up."