Chapter 2 - A Little More Time

I fucked up.

The thought hit me as I boarded the flight to Joburg, my head pounding from too much whisky and not enough sleep. Palesa had been… intense last night. Clingy. She'd wanted to take photos, post them online, make some kind of statement about us.

I'd managed to talk her down, but barely.

This was getting out of hand. What had started as a fun distraction — a way to blow off steam on tour, to feel young and desired again — had turned into something complicated. Palesa was talking about the future. About what would happen when Amahle found out.

When. Not if.

I'd told her there was nothing to find out. That Amahle and I had an understanding. That our marriage was basically over anyway, we just hadn't made it official.

All lies, of course.

Amahle was… Amahle was everything. My wife, my partner, my best friend. The woman who'd given up a prestigious orchestra position to build my sound. Who'd arranged the strings on my biggest hits. Who believed in me when I was nobody playing bars for beer money.

But she was also safe. Predictable. We'd been together so long that the excitement had faded. She knew all my stories, all my moves. There was no mystery left.

Palesa was different. She was fire and chaos and spontaneity. She made me feel like a star instead of a married guy pushing thirty-five.

I told myself it didn't mean anything. That it was just physical. That I'd end it after the tour and Amahle would never have to know.

I told myself a lot of things.

My phone buzzed. A WhatsApp from Amahle: Landed yet?

Just boarding. See you at soundcheck. Love you.