I should have known the road to Mokhotlong would change the balance between us.
The whole trip started as a joke — me and Naleli teasing each other, daring each other, acting like the wild girls we always pretend to be.
"No plans," I said, throwing myself into the car. "Whatever happens, happens."
Naleli repeated it.
She always repeats the bold lines, even when her voice shakes just a little.
But Thapelo…
He only gave us that quiet, dangerous smile.
I felt it immediately — a shift in the air.
Like he already knew how this story would end, and he was just waiting for us to catch up.
The gravel road wound between mountains that looked too old to care about our little games. Dust rose behind the tyres, the sun turning everything gold. I stretched across the backseat, one boot off, music loud, pretending not to pay attention.
But every time Thapelo adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, the muscle in his forearm flexing, I found myself watching.
Noticing.
Feeling.
I didn't like that.
So I leaned forward, chin near his shoulder, lips almost brushing his ear.
"Driver," I teased, "are you sure you know where you're going?"
He didn't even look at me.
"I know exactly where I'm going," he said calmly.
Only one sentence… but it hit somewhere deep.
Somewhere I wasn't ready to admit existed.
Naleli caught my expression.
She smirked like she could see straight through my bravado, which annoyed me more than Thapelo's confidence.
The road twisted again, giving us a view of the valleys dropping below us. The sky was almost too blue, the air too clean, like nature itself wanted a front-row seat.
We stopped at a lookout point.
Thapelo stepped out first.
I watched him stand at the cliff's edge, hands in his pockets, the wind pushing against him like it was testing him — and he didn't move an inch.
I hated how much that did to me.
How grounded he looked.
How unshaken.
Naleli joined him, hugging herself.
"Beautiful," she whispered.
Thapelo looked at her… then at me.
"We agreed no plans," she reminded him, voice soft.
"We did," he said. "But agreements don't stop instincts."
The way he said it… controlled, unbothered… it made my stomach tighten.
Whose instincts was he talking about?
Mine?
Naleli's?
His?
Back at the fire later, things shifted again. Naleli sat a little closer to him than she meant to. I teased her loudly, but the truth was I felt myself doing the same — leaning in, drawn by something neither of us could name.
Then came the tent.
I told myself I was only following him inside because of the cold.
I told myself I just needed warmth.
I told myself nothing was happening.
But Naleli and I locked eyes for half a second — and we both knew neither of us was letting the other go in alone.
So we stepped into the tent together.
Inside, the air was thick with something unspoken.
The glow of the lantern.
Thapelo sitting back, steady, unreadable.
Naleli's shallow breaths.
My heartbeat loud in my ears.
He didn't tell us to kneel.
He didn't touch us.
He didn't even reach out.
He didn't need to.
Somewhere between the twists of the mountain road and the fire dying outside, the dynamic shifted.
The roles rearranged themselves.
And for the first time on that trip…
I felt myself leaning toward Thapelo out of instinct, not choice.
Not because he asked.
Not because he demanded.
But because something in him told the truth I tried so hard to ignore:
He wasn't following the trip's rules.
He was the rule.
And whatever happened next…
Happened.
Fade to black.