She Who Stole His Heart

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Chapter 29

Mzamo brought her nice colourful sandals. They went well with the dark fabric of the t-shirt that was now hers. She looked at herself in the mirror. It wasn’t visible just how visible she was when she was in August’s baggy t-shirt. She smiled, she liked it better like that. Maybe she should start shopping for loose-fitting outfits more.

She tied her hair up, feeling like it was getting hotter. Maybe it was because she was nervous. How would he react to the news? Will he hate her? Will he pity her?

He’d rather hate her than pity her, really. She did not want him to pity her.

She walked out, smiling when Rob started applauding.

“Wow, Kholwa, that truly doesn’t look too bad. But, I have something that would make it better.” He got off the sofa that he was on, “Wait a bit.”

“Nothing looks bad on you,” August said, walking towards her.

She just giggled. He was only flattering her.

Rob walked back holding a red bucket hat. He gently put it on her head.

“Now you look just like August.” He chuckled, crossing his hands in front of his chest and he smiled at Kholwa’s cuteness.

She looked at August and he was also wearing a bucket hat and a similar black t-shirt with dark denim.

August didn’t say, but the bucket hat made her even better. If Rob hadn’t been there, he probably would have kissed her crazy by then.

After saying their goodbyes, they left. August, being the gentleman he was, carried her handbag. He would be taking her home after their date. They took a taxi to a street market that August liked. He told her that he always wanted to take someone that he liked through it. He saw it in movies a few times and it looked like great bonding time. Kholwa didn’t mind. Any time spent with August was a great time.

What they looked at first, shockingly, were the sunglasses. August was already wearing a pair, so he helped her get a pair as well. She got a pair similar to his without noticing. She took a few selfies on her phone, being the one to point out how similar the glasses looked later on.

They walked past a few handmade jewellery sellers. She pointed and gushed about most of the pieces. Admiring the effort of the makers.

“I wish I was that talented,” She said during their walk. Before August could comment, she dragged him to another stall, showing him even more things that fascinated her.

They were at the food stalls. Kholwa tried most of the food, her appetite surprising August. She smiled when she realised that he was watching her eat. She took a piece of the food and fed it to him. He also smiled.

“You bitch!” They suddenly heard. They turned to the source of the voice and it was a man, dressed in torn baggy clothes. “How could you? You told me he was your cousin.”

“Baby, calm down.” The woman that the angry man was addressing said. She was walking with another man, leaving him and calming down the angry man. He had one of his hands behind his shirt, which had the first two buttons messily undone.

“If I can’t have you,” he removed his hand from behind him to reveal a gun, “then no one fucking can.”

Everyone screamed, including Kholwa. August’s eyes widened and he held onto her, hoping to get her away before the madman started shooting. But he was too late. He started shooting. He missed his girlfriend but kept on shooting everyone around.

August pulled Kholwa down behind one of the stalls. They stayed behind the small cover, while he wrapped his arms around her, wanting nothing to happen to her. Her head was on his chest, and she was silent for a while.

“August,” She softly called out. The shooting suddenly stopped. “Augie,” She called again, just as softly. “Thank you,” she said, her head still on his chest, “I’m sorry.”

“What are you...?” When he looked down he suddenly noticed that her t-shirt was wet. He pulled her away, but she was unconscious. “Kholwa?” She did not open her eyes. “Kholwa!”

He could see where she had been shot. On her chest, around where her heart was supposed to be. He held onto the wound, stopping the blood from free-flowing.

“They caught him,” he heard one of the men running the stall say, “crazy bastard.”

“Hey,” he cried, “someone, please help us.”

Tears rolled down his cheeks as he tightly pressed on the wound, but the blood was still seeping beneath it.

“Please…”

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