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The road wound between hot dry hills, streaked with scrub and sun-bleached fence lines. Chloe had one hand on the wheel, the other slung lazily out the window, fingers slicing through the dry, rushing air. The city had long since fallen away behind them, replaced by a wide, open sprawl peppered with farms, thorn trees, and distant hills that shimmered in the heat.
“Can’t believe I’m doing the whole meet-the-parents thing,” she said, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “What’s next, matching holiday jumpers and a golden retriever?”
Nadine didn’t answer right away, just let out a quiet huff of amusement. She sat reclined in the passenger seat, head tilted toward the window, eyes half-lidded beneath thick lashes. Her boots were propped up on the dash, scuffed and dusty.
Chloe was just starting to wonder if she’d dozed off when Nadine leaned in, slow and deliberate. She pressed a kiss just beneath Chloe’s ear, lips warm against her sun-damp skin.
“Shut up and drive,” Nadine murmured, voice rough with sleep.
Chloe laughed, though a flicker of nerves passed through her chest like a tremor beneath the road.
She straightened a little as the house came into view, low and broad, its whitewashed walls glowing gold in the afternoon sun. A line of washing flapped lazily behind it, and fruit trees cast long shadows across the yard. Bougainvillaea bloomed along the fence, wild and unruly. The mountains stood watch behind it all, waving in the breeze.
As they rolled up the gravel path, Nadine leaned forward in her seat, eyes alight, a slow smile blooming across her face.
“It’s good to be back,” she said quietly.
Chloe slid her sunglasses up into her hair and glanced over. “Yeah?”
Nadine nodded. Then, almost to herself, she smiled again, soft, wide, and unguarded. “Yeah.”
The car had barely stopped before the front door swung open and a woman stepped briskly onto the stoep, wiping her hands on a dishcloth.
Chloe was still unbuckling when Nadine was already moving, long strides closing the distance before she melted into the woman’s open arms.
“Ah, aka Nadi,” the woman laughed, pulling back to cup Nadine’s face in both hands. “What am I going to do with you, hey? Coming home to your mother with cuts and bruises again. And what is this hair, huh, girl?”
Dodging out of her mother scrutinising gaze Nadine huffed “I’m fine mom”
She planted a firm kiss on Nadine’s forehead before turning her gaze on Chloe who had joined Nadine’s side and beamed.
“And you must be Chloe.”
“Guilty,” Chloe said with a wink. “Lovely to meet you, Mrs. Ross.”
“Lerato, please. We don’t do ‘Mrs’ here.”
Before Chloe could offer a handshake, Lerato pulled her into a hug, warm and grounding, smelling of flour and lemongrass and sun-dried linen.
Behind them, a tall, broad-shouldered man stepped quietly out onto the stoep, arms folded across a chest still solid with muscle. The late sun caught the threads of silver beginning to show, and though his expression barely shifted, Chloe could see the pride in his eyes, the only real giveaway. His gaze swept over the scene without a word. There was no mistaking the resemblance Nadine had, the same set of the jaw, the same calm intensity, the same quietly grounded posture. He let his wife do the fussing first.
When Nadine crossed to him, he opened his arms without a word. She stepped in, and he held her there a moment.
“It’s good to see you, my girl,” he said simply.
Then he let her go with a single nod and turned to Chloe.
“David,” he said.
“Chloe,” she replied, stepping forward to offer her hand. “Thanks for having me.”
He shook it, firm and solid. “You’re welcome,” he said. “Let’s get you both inside.”
As they passed through the doorway, Chloe leaned in just close enough for Nadine to hear:
“Told you I’d charm them.”
“Don’t get cocky,” Nadine murmured back, though the smile she hid said otherwise.
Inside, the cool air smelled faintly of spices and sun-warmed wood. The brightly patterned tile gave way to dark, worn floorboards. Flowing curtains danced in the breeze between coloured furniture. The walls were scattered with framed photos, art and old school paintings.
As Lerato headed toward the kitchen, Chloe paused by the fireplace, where a framed photo caught her eye, four children posed beneath a blooming jacaranda tree, all sun-dappled grins and bare knees. The girl in front grinned wide with three missing teeth, her hair tied in tiny space buns, undeniably a baby Nadine. Chloe smiled. Cute as hell
“Dinner’s nearly done,” Lerato called over her shoulder. “You’ll eat, then rest. No arguing.”
Taking Chloe’s bag from her, Nadine called back, “Yes, Ma.”
“And don’t roll your eyes at me,” Lerato added without turning.
Chloe, left standing alone for a moment, hesitated then followed Lerato into the kitchen.
“Alright,” she said, rolling up her sleeves. “What can I do before I embarrass myself by sitting around like a useless guest?”
Lerato turned to look at her, brow arched, then smiled a wide, reaching all the way to her crinkled eyes. “You don’t strike me as someone who stays useless for long.”
“Not if I can help it. I make a mean salad. Though I’ve been known to burn toast. Nadine doesn’t let me cook very often.”
Lerato laughed, the sound rich and easy. “Well then,” she said, tossing Chloe a kitchen towel. “Let’s see what you can do.”
The room still smelled faintly of sun-warmed dust and the lavender sachets Lerato used to tuck into drawers. The curtains were thin and hand-stitched, gently faded from years of light. The bed sat beneath the window, its wooden frame nicked and worn from childhood scuffles. A narrow bookshelf leaned against the far wall, still half-stocked with old textbooks, dog-eared novels, and a dusty photo of a group of children laughing on some winter windswept beach.
David stepped in behind her and set her duffel down gently at the foot of the bed. “Xana wa tsaka?” (Are you happy?)
Nadine turned toward him, a smile tugging at her mouth. “Yebo, tatana. Hakunene ndzi tano.” (Yeah, Dad. I am. Really)
David nodded once, then rested a steady hand on her shoulder. “Ndza tsaka. Swi tsakisa ku ku vona, nhwanyana wa mina.” (I’m glad. It’s good to see you, my girl.)
“Ina, na wena tatana.” (You too, Dad.)
From down the hall, Lerato’s laughter rang out followed by Chloe’s voice, bright and unbothered, already folded into the rhythm of the kitchen.
David glanced toward the door, the corners of his mouth tugging upward.
“She’s quick on her feet, that one.”
Nadine’s smile deepened, fond and unguarded.
“Tell me about it.”
Later that night the window is cracked open to let the breeze in. Outside, cicadas hum and a windchime clinks softly in the dark. A small desk fan spins lazily from the corner, rattling now and then against the plaster wall. The ceiling overhead is low, and the shadows are thick with the weight of memory.
Nadine moves across the room in just a pair of loose boxers and a sports bra, her skin still warm from the shower, hair tied up. She tosses her watch and ring into the little ceramic dish by the bed that her brother made her once.
She flops back onto the mattress with a soft grunt, arms spread out, staring at the ceiling fan.
“I forgot how loud that thing is.”
Chloe laughs softly and drops down beside her almost on top of her, really, knees bracketing Nadine’s hips as she leans in and kisses her, slow and unhurried. Just because she can.
Nadine hums against her lips, hands resting lightly on Chloe’s thighs. She doesn't say anything, just lets herself sink into the quiet and the weight of Chloe stretched out against her.
They lay there like that for a moment, listening to the soft creak of old pipes, the brush of wind through the curtains. The fan ticks once as it turns.
Then Chloe props herself up on her elbows, still close enough to feel Nadine’s breath on her skin.
“I like your parents,” she says, voice quieter now. “Your mum’s brilliant. Your dad’s a little scary, but in a... calming, stoic kind of way.”
“Reminds me of someone else I know,” she says, voice dipping into something teasing.
Nadine raises an eyebrow, but the corner of her mouth betrays her, twitching up into a smirk.
Chloe meets it with a grin of her own. “Though I think I like you more. He didn’t kiss me hello.”
Nadine snorts and pulls her hands away just long enough to flip Chloe onto her back with a small laugh.
“You talk too much,” she says, hovering over her now.
Chloe grins up at her, breath warm against Nadine’s jaw.
“And yet, here you are. Madly in love with me.”
Nadine doesn’t argue. She leans down and kisses her again, slower this time, with more intent. When they part, Chloe’s expression has softened too, her eyes darker in the lamplight.
They settle again, tangled now, Chloe curled into Nadine’s side, one arm flung across her stomach. Nadine draws lazy circles along Chloe’s spine, her breathing slow and even.