Page 9

Eight

South Africa

“ W ere you and Alexa fighting?”

Tristan set his trolley against the wall and turned to Jude. “Did that look like a fight to you?”

It was seriously the best moment of his life. Just when he had thought it was all over, she had come to the airport to tell him that she loved him. She could’ve simply told him over the phone, but no. She had driven to him. That was his girl.

And man, he loved her so much.

But despite the ecstasy, an uneasy feeling he couldn’t name tugged at his heartstrings. He sat on one of the plush chairs, resisting the urge to rub a hand over his chest.

“You know what I mean.” Jude gave him a meaningful look and sat down on the chair next to him. “With the scene you two put up out there, I’m sure it was obvious not only to me but to every onlooker that you two were making up after a fight.”

Tristan looked at him blankly. Did Jude seriously expect him to discuss his love life with him?

“Trouble in paradise?” Jude prompted. He looked almost smug.

Tristan rolled his eyes. “None of your business.”

Jude shrugged. “Alexa and I never fought.”

Tristan’s gaze zeroed in on him. “What are you trying to get at?”

Jude simply shrugged once more and faced forward.

But Tristan wasn’t ready to let it drop. “Hmm…” he hummed thoughtfully. “It’s no wonder why the two of you never worked.”

He seemed to touch a nerve because Jude turned to him with a glare in his eyes. “That’s none of your business.”

“Yeah, I’m the one who tried to get into other people’s business in the first place,” he countered and looked away.

They didn’t say another word for the rest of their time waiting for the flight. Tristan pulled out an early copy of Cassie’s upcoming book from his bag and began to read. He had volunteered to be her proofreader, and she had been more than happy to accept—but not as happy as he was to help out a favorite author with her newest release.

In his peripheral view, Tristan saw Jude casting occasional glances at the book, especially when Tristan jotted down something on his phone—a typo, to send over to Cassie later. He was about to stop ignoring him and lend him a book to read when their flight was announced.

Tristan’s heart raced.

Was he excited? Yes, this was his first flight.

Was he nervous? Yes to that too—though just slightly.

Once they got into the plane, Tristan noticed with relief that he and Jude weren’t seatmates. But before he settled down, he pulled out a book from his bag and walked down to Jude.

Jude raised an eyebrow at him. Before he could ask anything, Tristan passed him the book and said, as kindly as possible, “It’s going to be a long flight. Thought you could use a nice read.”

He almost expected him to reject the offer, but surprisingly, Jude accepted the book and scanned the title. “Not a fan of reading,” he murmured, turning the book over to look at the blurb. “Is this a fantasy or something?”

“Fantasy and science fiction,” Tristan confirmed with a nod. “Enjoy.”

* * *

After almost fifteen hours, the vast landscapes of South Africa came into view through the small window. Tristan stared at the vibrant green hills, stretching savannas, and distant mountains painted in the morning light as the plane descended smoothly.

Though he believed he had seen more panoramic views than an average person in their lifetime could, nothing compared to watching the ground fall away beneath him and the world shrink to a patchwork of landscapes from the plane’s window.

Tristan rose to his feet once the plane taxied to a stop and the seatbelt sign dinged, turning off. He grabbed his carry-on bag from the overhead compartment and moved through the aisle with the rest of the passengers.

The warm, humid air of South Africa greeted him as he stepped onto the bridge. Jude waited for him at the other end, and when Tristan joined him, he turned without a word and led the way. But Tristan stood back and took a moment to absorb the new environment.

He was in a different country, across the Pacific, something he had never thought would be possible. It was both overwhelming and surreal, and he couldn’t help but think of Alexa at that moment.

What would it be like to share such an experience with her?

The thrill of takeoff, the wonder of seeing the world from above, the quiet moments of reflection during the flight, the way her eyes would light up at the sight of the clouds from above, and the comfort of having her by his side in an unfamiliar place…

He imagined her excitement at the prospect of traveling together, exploring new places. A smile pulled at his lips. If Merissa hadn’t forbidden him from bringing company, he’d have brought her along.

Nonetheless, when he returned, he was going to take her on a trip like this.

Tristan put on his sunglasses and went after his cousin, who hadn’t bothered to check if he had followed. Several eyes turned to him, and the whispers that followed were the same as everywhere he went.

“Oh, my gosh, look at that guy. He’s smoking hot!”

After retrieving their luggage, he and Jude made their way toward the exit.

“Are we expecting someone to pick us up?” Tristan asked as they stepped into the arrival area.

“Mom’s sent her driver,” Jude muttered, looking over the crowd that was waiting for their families and friends. He perked up a moment after. “There he is, come on.” He began to push his trolley toward a tall man in a blue shirt, holding a sign bearing both their names, who looked more like a bodyguard than a mere chauffeur.

Jude shook hands with him and introduced himself and Tristan briefly. The man’s name, Tristan learned, was Hermis. Hermis put the sign away, took their luggage, and led them toward a black Innova.

Tristan got in the back while Jude took the passenger seat. As Hermis pulled the car away from the airport and into the bustling city of Johannesburg, Tristan switched on his phone. He texted Alexa and his dad saying he had landed and was on his way to Merissa’s house.

Now that he thought about it, he didn’t know where Merissa lived. In a luxurious apartment? A mansion? Given that she had a personal driver, she was probably rich enough to own a fancy home.

Alexa replied to his message immediately, saying that she’d been staying awake to hear from him. He smiled and texted back, telling her to go to sleep and that he’d call her in the morning—her time. His dad’s reply was quick as well, saying he was on duty and that he had been restless until he saw Tristan’s message.

Tristan smiled again, thankful for the amazing people in his life.

It took an hour and a half of maneuvering through the traffic before Hermis pulled them out of the city and turned into a quieter road. Tristan immediately realized it was a villa, lined by beautifully crafted, luxurious houses on either side.

Never had such a sight popped into his mind when he thought of South Africa. Apart from the city of Johannesburg, his imagination of the country had been so poor he was wonderstruck at the sight that greeted him. It almost looked like an American neighborhood, perhaps except for the blend of different cultures in the buildings.

Before he realized it, he was typing into his phone, telling Alexa what he was feeling. He was minutes or even seconds away from meeting the woman who had ruined his life, and he hated that he was feeling a hint of dread. Alexa wasn’t online; it was probably only three or four am there, but telling her about his emotions felt good.

Still, when Hermis pulled the car into the driveway of a stylish residence, Tristan felt his stomach drop. And it had everything to do with the dark-skinned woman standing on the portico with her hands clasped in front of her.

Tristan immediately moved from her view. She looked entirely different from how he’d imagined her from an old photo he found in the basement years ago. The only other time he had seen her when she came to their house to curse him, was a blur. So this very much felt like he was seeing her for the first time.

The woman who destroyed his life.

Somehow, Merissa had managed to look younger for someone her age. Probably her magic, Tristan thought. She was tall, with long, black curly hair, and she wore the kind of black dress he had seen rich-looking, businesswomen wear.

The car came to a halt, and Tristan shot another text to Alexa.

Tristan:

We’re here. Merissa is standing on the portico. Hopefully, I’m not going to ruin this. But I swear if she tries to act nice, I’ll lose it. Though, don’t worry. For our sake, I’ll rein myself in.

He slipped the phone back into his pocket before opening the door and getting out. Jude was already halfway through the courtyard to meet his smiling mother, who was stepping down to greet him.

Tristan slung his carry-on bag over one shoulder and stood there, for a moment uncertain what to do, before he noticed Hermis opening the back of the car. He shut the door and went to help the man get their luggage out, earning himself a thankful nod.

“That is so polite of you, Tristan dear. But Hermis will take your bags to your new room.”

Tristan stiffened but tried to relax. She had an oily voice, and it grated on his ears—sickeningly sugary for someone with the mind of a snake. He stepped back and let Hermis carry their luggage inside.

Footsteps neared him from the car’s side. Tristan clenched his fists, took a deep breath, and reminded himself of the ways this trip could go wrong if he acted on instinct, and prepared himself to face his aunt.

Merissa entered his line of sight, and she froze in her tracks. Her eyes widened for a fraction, something flashing across them before she composed herself.

“I’m sorry,” she said with a subtle shake of her head, smiling softly. “The resemblance you share with your dad caught me off guard. You look exactly like him when he was your age.” Then, in a softer tone, she added, “When we used to be best friends, and I was in love with him.”

Tristan clenched his jaw and didn’t say anything.

Merissa smiled an eye-crinkling smile, seeming to be unbothered by his nonchalance. “It’s so nice to see you again, Tristan. I—”

“Can we skip the pleasantries?” Tristan asked as politely as he could, forcing a cool expression on his face. “I assure you, there’s no need for them.”

Merissa’s smile turned into a frown, and her eyes dipped to his wrist—to the bracelet. “I see, you still refuse to trust me.” She met his eyes again.

“I was under the impression that it’s obvious this is not only a matter of trust.”

There were a lot of things he wanted to say, things he had been carrying inside him all his life just to spit onto her face—the hatred and anger… But he thought of Alexa and held himself back.

Merissa regarded him silently for a moment, her eyes unnervingly gentle, before she sighed. “We have a lot to talk about. But not in front of my girls; they have no idea what is going on.”

Her girls? Tristan refrained from asking and settled for a nod. She didn’t mean daughters, did she?

Merissa gestured toward the house with a smile. “Welcome to South Africa, dear nephew. Come on, let’s go inside.”

She turned and walked away, and Tristan followed behind. Jude stepped out of the house at that time, and upon seeing his mother, he hooked a thumb over his shoulder and asked, “Who are those girls?”

He looked perplexed.

“Oh, they are my maids,” Merissa answered in a pleasant tone. “Hot, are they not?”

Jude met Tristan’s eyes, and Tristan arched an eyebrow at him, just as confused.

At that moment, six girls stepped onto the portico. They were dark-skinned and white-skinned, blonde and brunette. The way they held themselves reminded Tristan of runway models and the Barbie dolls his cousins used to play with—tall, straight, bony, and cement-faced. Wearing the smallest black dress he had ever seen on anyone.

As Merissa climbed up the portico and stood next to them, for the first time in his life, Tristan appreciated that he wasn’t wearing black.

Thanks to his angel.