Chapter 6 - The Counter

CHAPTER 6: THE COUNTER

He rehearsed the compliment in his bathroom mirror. She smiled when he said it. He still doesn't know if she meant it.

THE WRONG ONE: HIS SIDE — Part 4 of 5: THE COUNTER

He'd planned this. The route through the house, which rooms first, what to say about the kitchen. Langa sat in his Tiguan outside the development, engine running, rehearsing. Not the words — he had those. The delivery. He wanted it to sound natural. Effortless. Like showing someone your house was something you did every day instead of something that made your palms slick against the steering wheel.

He'd even rehearsed the compliment. Stood in front of his bathroom mirror that morning, trying versions. "You look beautiful" — too generic. "That colour suits you" — too specific, what if it didn't? He settled on something in between. Precise. Something that sounded like he'd noticed without trying.

The house was nearly done. Walls painted. Roof solid. Windows catching the late-afternoon sun, throwing golden rectangles across empty floors. It smelled like fresh plaster and paint and the veld — dry grass, red earth, the sweetness of highveld air as the day cooled.

He heard her car. Walked to the door. She stepped out and the compliment came exactly as planned. She smiled. He couldn't tell if she liked it or was being polite.

He walked her through the house. Empty rooms echoing their footsteps.

The lounge. "Big enough for family." She nodded. Ran her hand along the wall.

The spare room. He didn't name it. They both knew the word for a room that small, that close to the master bedroom, with that quality of waiting. She looked in from the doorway. Didn't enter.