Chapter 6 - The List

CHAPTER 6: THE LIST

THE LIST

She didn't scream. She didn't cry. She did something worse — she studied him.

Dinner at home. The house settled, lived-in, theirs. It smelled like garlic from the meal she'd cooked. Langa poured wine, talked about a new development. Normal. Easy. The shape of a life she'd designed.

Lindiwe let the conversation breathe. Then, casually:

"What's your type, really? If you had to describe your ideal partner."

He smiled. Took the question confidently. He talked about what he valued. Stability. Family background. Ambition. Someone his parents would respect. Someone building something, not just existing.

Every word was a criterion. Not an emotion. He was describing a job specification, and he didn't hear himself doing it.

She recognised every word. She'd said them all — in different order, at Piatto, on a Friday night, two glasses of wine deep. This man was her mirror.

"If Refilwe had agreed," she said, quiet and level, "would you be here right now?"

His face changed. Not a lot. Just enough. The wine glass paused halfway to his mouth. He set it down slowly.

"Where did you hear that name?"

"Middelburg is small, Langa. Would you be here?"

He hesitated. A second. Maybe less.

But they both felt it.

"You are my choice, Lindiwe."

"That's not what I asked."

The house was very quiet. The fridge humming. The neighbour's dog somewhere distant. Garlic still in the air.

He didn't deny it. He asked, softly: "Does it matter?"

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And here was the thing she hadn't expected — the answer wasn't simple.