Sandile walked into the house earlier than usual, a rare luxury for a Friday evening. The familiar sounds of the TV playing in the background and the faint clinking of pots from the kitchen made the space feel warm and inviting. He shrugged off his blazer, hanging it on the coat rack by the door, before stepping into the kitchen.
There was Mmabatho, moving between the stove and the counter with practiced ease, humming softly to herself. Her braids were tied up in a loose bun, and she wore a simple t-shirt and leggings. She looked comfortableâlike she belonged there.
Without saying much, Sandile stepped closer and gave her a quick side hug.
"Hey," he said, his voice low but warm. "How was your day?"
She turned to look at him, a soft smile forming on her lips. "Not bad. Sonele was in a good mood today, so that was a win. How was work?"
He sighed, leaning against the counter for a moment. "Long. Meetings on meetings. I don't even know how I survived."
She laughed. "Well, you're home now. Go change, I've got something for you to snack on before dinner."
He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "I see you've taken the whole 'keep the man fed' thing seriously."
"I didn't make it for you specifically," she teased, rolling her eyes. "It's just leftovers from earlier. Take it or leave it."
He chuckled as he headed upstairs to change. When he came back down, dressed in a simple t-shirt and sweats, there was a plate with a sandwich and a glass of juice waiting for him at the counter.
"I'll take it," he said with a grin, sitting down to eat. Mmabatho had already moved back to the stove, checking on whatever she was cooking for dinner. He watched her as he ate, noticing how at ease she seemed. It was a stark contrast to when she first moved in with him, when she was always so guarded and formal.
---
After his snack, Sandile wandered into the living room, where Sonele was surrounded by a sea of colorful toys on the carpet. His little hands were busy stacking blocks, his face scrunched up in concentration. Sandile couldn't help but smile. He walked over, sitting cross-legged on the floor.
"What are we building here, little man?" he asked, reaching for a block.
Sonele looked up at him with wide eyes and babbled something incomprehensible but enthusiastic. Sandile laughed, grabbing another block to add to the stack.
They played together for a while, Sandile letting his inner child loose as they built towers and knocked them over repeatedly. Every time a tower fell, Sonele burst into a fit of giggles, which only made Sandile laugh harder. By the time they were done, the living room looked like a mini tornado had passed through it, but neither of them cared.
"Dinner's ready!" Mmabatho called from the dining room.
Sandile stood up, scooping Sonele into his arms. "Let's go see what Mommy cooked for us," he said, making silly faces at the baby as they walked to the table.
---
The dining table was set simply but neatly, with a steaming pot of beef stew and a side of freshly made dombolo. Sandile placed Sonele in his high chair, and Mmabatho handed him a small bowl of apple puree. She sat down with her own plate, glancing at Sonele as he tried to scoop up the puree with his tiny spoon.
"He's trying to feed himself," Mmabatho said, amused. "He's going to make a mess, but at least he's trying."
Sandile watched as Sonele clumsily brought the spoon to his mouth, only for most of the puree to fall onto his bib. "A for effort," he said with a chuckle.
Mmabatho laughed as well, taking the spoon to help him out while still managing to eat her own food. Sandile couldn't help but watch her, the way she balanced everything so effortlessly. It wasn't just how she cared for Soneleâit was the little things, like how she smiled every time he made a new sound or how patient she was when he dropped the spoon for the tenth time.
"You're really good at this," he said suddenly.
She looked up, confused. "At what?"
"All of it. Taking care of him. Taking care of me."
Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she looked down at her plate. "Well, someone has to," she said lightly.
---
After dinner, Mmabatho took Sonele upstairs for his bath. Sandile stayed behind to clear the table, giving her some space to handle the bedtime routine. He could hear her upstairs, talking to Sonele as she bathed him.
By the time she came back downstairs, Sonele was fast asleep, and she looked ready to collapse herself. Instead, she disappeared into the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with a bowl of popcorn and two glasses of juice.
"Movie night?" she asked, holding up the popcorn.
"Always," he said, patting the couch next to him.
She sat down, pulling the blanket over her legs as she scrolled through Netflix. "What are we watching?"
"Your pick," he said, leaning back.
She clicked on *Savage Beauty*, and they quickly got into it. By the second episode, they were debating characters and plotlines like they were in a book club.
"There is no way Zinhle didn't see this coming," Sandile argued, gesturing at the screen.
"Are you serious?" Mmabatho countered. "She was focused on revenge. You can't think straight when you're fueled by that kind of emotion."
"Still. You can't just walk into enemy territory without a backup plan. Rookie mistake."
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, so you're an expert now?"
"Clearly," he said smugly, making her laugh.
By the sixth episode, they were both stretched out on the couch, more relaxed than they'd been all week. Mmabatho suddenly sat up, a dreamy look on her face.
"I want pancakes," she declared.
Sandile blinked at her. "At midnight?"
"Yes. With ice cream."
He laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, let's do it."
---
They moved to the kitchen, keeping their voices low so they wouldn't wake Sonele. Mmabatho pulled out the ingredients while Sandile found a playlist on his phone, letting soft R&B fill the space. They worked together to make the pancakes, laughing quietly every time one of them messed up.
At one point, Sandile leaned over her shoulder to sprinkle chocolate chips into the batter, and she froze for a second, aware of how close he was.
"You're doing it wrong," he teased, his voice low.
"Oh, please," she said, nudging him with her elbow. "Let the professional handle it."
"Professional? You burnt the first one."
"That was a warm-up," she shot back, making him laugh.
By the time the pancakes were done, they were both in stitches, icing sugar on their hands and chocolate smudged on Mmabatho's cheek. They sat at the counter, eating their pancakes straight off the plate and licking the ice cream off their fingers.
"This was a good idea," Sandile admitted.
"You see? I'm always right," Mmabatho said with a smirk.
He chuckled, shaking his head. "You're something else, you know that?"
She looked at him, her smile softening. "Good something or bad something?"
"Definitely good," he said, holding her gaze for a moment longer than necessary.
Her cheeks flushed again, but she didn't look away this time. They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the sounds of their spoons clinking against the plates the only thing filling the room.
When they finally went to bed, Sandile lay awake for a while, thinking about her. She wasn't just a part of his life nowâshe * was* his life. And for the first time in a long time, that thought didn't scare him.