Episode 5: The Other Women

Ndivhuwo spent the first morning in Zanzibar trying to convince herself that the trip was exactly what Thandi said it was: a break. She sat beneath an umbrella overlooking the water, her sunglasses resting on the table beside her and her phone turned face down. The ocean stretched out in front of her, calm enough to make Johannesburg feel like another lifetime.

She ordered breakfast, read a few pages and even managed to forget about Daniel Mercer for almost an hour.

Then her phone lit up. It was Thandi.

Enjoying yourself?

Ndivhuwo stared at the message before replying, Trying to.

The response came almost immediately.

Good. Don't think about work.

That was the problem. Ndivhuwo wasn't thinking about work anymore. She was thinking about Thandi. The strange excitement when she announced the Nairobi trip. The way she seemed to know Ndivhuwo would enjoy it before Ndivhuwo even knew where she was going. The message telling her not to return to Johannesburg after Daniel died. Then Zanzibar, arranged before Ndivhuwo had even asked what was happening with the conference. It no longer felt like her manager was simply looking after her. It felt like Thandi was moving pieces around a board.

Also read: The Shape of His Secrets

A Face She Recognised

That afternoon, Ndivhuwo left the resort and wandered through the streets for a while. She wanted to see something beyond the polished version of Zanzibar the hotel offered. She walked through a market, stopped at a small shop and bought a bottle of water before finding herself on a quieter street away from the crowds.

That was when she noticed the woman. She stood outside a café across the road, dressed simply, with a handbag hanging from one shoulder. There was nothing remarkable about her, except for the fact that Ndivhuwo recognised her face. She had seen her the previous evening at the hotel restaurant.

The woman looked directly at her.

Neither of them moved.

Ndivhuwo crossed the road, but by the time she reached the café entrance, the woman was already gone. She looked through the glass, scanning the tables and the small outdoor seating area, but there was no sign of her. For a moment, Ndivhuwo wondered if she had imagined it.

Then her phone vibrated.

Not the second phone.

Her main phone.

There was a message from Thandi.

Go back to the hotel.

Ndivhuwo's stomach tightened. She looked up and down the street. There was no reason Thandi should know where she was.

Someone Is Waiting

When Ndivhuwo returned to the resort, she found the woman sitting in the lobby. This time, there was no mistaking her. The woman looked up from her phone and smiled as Ndivhuwo approached.

"You're Ndivhuwo."

Ndivhuwo stopped in front of her. "Who are you?"

"My name is Lerato."

There was something about the way she said it that made Ndivhuwo suspicious. No surname. No introduction beyond a first name. Just enough information to sound normal while saying almost nothing.

Lerato gestured towards the empty chair opposite her, but Ndivhuwo remained standing.

"Thandi sent you?"

Lerato's smile disappeared. "She didn't need to."

That answer told Ndivhuwo more than she wanted to know. She sat down, keeping her eyes on Lerato as the woman studied her for a moment.

"How long have you been doing this?"

Ndivhuwo kept her expression neutral. “I graduated in 2020 so I’d say about 6 years now.”

Lerato chuckled then reached into her handbag and placed a photograph on the table. Ndivhuwo looked down. Four women stood together somewhere that looked like a beach. One was laughing, another was holding a drink and they looked like friends who were on holiday.

But Ndivhuwo recognised one of the faces. She had seen her before, not in person but in a photograph on her second phone.

She looked at Lerato. "Where did you get this?"

"From the same place you get your names."

Ndivhuwo said nothing. Lerato leaned back in her chair and watched her reaction.

"You really thought you were the only one?"

The question landed harder than Ndivhuwo expected. For years, she never questioned the silence between assignments. A name arrived, she did what needed to be done, and life returned to normal. She had never stopped to wonder who sent the names, who chose the targets or whether someone else received them too.

Until now.

Also Read: A Novel in Real Time

The Second Phone

Ndivhuwo left the lobby and went straight to her room. She locked the door behind her and sat on the edge of the bed, then took her second phone from her handbag and opened the messages. Names, photographs and instructions filled the screen. She scrolled through months of assignments, seeing them differently now. Details that once seemed insignificant suddenly felt deliberate: the locations, the timing and the gaps between jobs.

She remembered the women she had noticed in airports, hotel lobbies and conference rooms over the years. Faces she forgot almost as quickly as she saw them. Had they been watching her too?

Her phone rang.

Thandi.

Ndivhuwo stared at the screen before answering.

"Hello."

"Did you meet Lerato?"

Ndivhuwo looked towards the window. "How do you know about her?"

There was a brief silence on the other end.

Then Thandi said, "Because I sent her."

Ndivhuwo's grip tightened around the phone.

"Why?"

"Because you have questions."

"I have a lot of questions."

"I know."

Ndivhuwo stood up. "You knew about Daniel."

"Yes."

"You knew I would be sent to Nairobi."

"Yes."

"You knew the conference would end the way it did."

Thandi paused.

"I knew the assignment."

That wasn't the answer Ndivhuwo wanted.

"What exactly are you?"

Thandi laughed softly. "You've worked for me for years, Ndivhuwo. You know exactly what I am."

"No. I know who you are from 8 to 5."

The silence that followed felt different. For the first time, Ndivhuwo heard something almost like pride in Thandi's voice.

"Then maybe it's time you met me after hours."

The call ended.

After Hours

Ndivhuwo stood beside the bed, still holding the phone. She thought about every time Thandi had called her into the office, every name and every photograph, every time Thandi seemed to know when Ndivhuwo needed a break.

It had never been management.

Not really.

What happens after hours?
Continue Ndivhuwo's story in the next episode.