Chapter 17: The Trap is Set

 

The next Sunday, the church buzzed with its usual energy children running between pews, the worship team rehearsing softly in the background, and the scent of fresh flowers filling the foyer. Nombuso arrived early, dressed impeccably in a royal blue skirt suit and matching headwrap. Her heels clicked against the tiled floor as she moved from one congregant to the next, her smile warm, her laugh genuine or so it seemed.

Elder Mkhize: (smiling) "Sister Nombuso! You look radiant today."

Nombuso: (forced smile, touching his arm) "God's grace, Baba. How is your wife's knee?"

Church Secretary: (approaching) "We missed you at Bible study this week."

No one could have guessed the war raging inside her. No one suspected the storm that brewed just beneath the surface of her carefully painted face. Only Mandla noticed it, that strange stillness in her eyes, that eerie calm. Her warmth felt… rehearsed. Her smiles were too perfectly timed, too practiced. Something had changed.

Mandla: (whispering to Nombuso) "You're quiet today. Everything alright?"

Nombuso: (sweetly venomous) "Why wouldn't it be, my love? The Lord's work continues, doesn't it?"

Later that day, once the church had emptied and the last of the deacons had said their goodbyes, Nombuso slipped out of the house unnoticed. She met Kabelo at a discreet cafe tucked behind a luxury boutique in Sandton. The place was quiet, elegant perfect for conversations no one else should hear. Kabelo was already seated, scrolling through his phone when she arrived. He looked up and raised an eyebrow.

Kabelo: “Didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.” 

Nombuso: (smoothing her dress as she sits) "God moves in mysterious ways, doesn't He?

Nombuso sat down slowly, placing her designer handbag on the table with care. 

Nombuso: “I need you to go back to Durban.” 

He leaned forward slightly. 

Kabelo: “For what?” 

She pulled out a printed photo of Mbali one taken during the outreach event, Mandla laughing beside her. She slid it across the table.

Nombuso: "Find Sipho Ndlovu. I want to know what else that whore is hiding."

Kabelo stared at her for a long moment, then leaned back, exhaling.

Kabelo: “You sure? This kind of thing… it doesn’t end neatly. Once we open that door, it won’t close again.” 

Nombuso didn’t flinch. She lifted her teacup, took a calm sip, and met his eyes over the rim.

Nombuso: “Good,” she said flatly. “I want it wide open.” 

Kabelo nodded slowly, understanding the weight of her words. This wasn’t just about digging into someone’s past anymore. This was about setting fire to everything and watching what survived the flames. Meanwhile, across town, Mandla couldn’t shake the sense that something was shifting beneath his feet. Nombuso was too quiet now. She didn’t ask questions. She smiled when he came home late, as if she already knew the answers. Her silence wasn’t peace it was precision. And Mbali… she had started receiving calls from unknown numbers. At first, it was a single ring, then nothing. Then came voicemails silent, eerie. Once, a low breath crackled on the line before it disconnected. Another time, she heard a familiar male voice laugh quietly before hanging up. She told herself it was just paranoia. But deep down, she knew better. Her past wasn’t knocking politely anymore. It was about to break down the door.