You Don't Belong To Anyone Else But Me...!
Chapter 1
The cold morning air slipped through the open taxi window, brushing against Asemahle Ngcono's face as she stared out at the streets of Durban.
The city was already waking up.
Street vendors dragged tables into position, the smell of frying vetkoek drifting through the air. Office workers hurried past with takeaway coffees in hand. Taxis blasted their horns like they were having full conversations with each other.
Asemahle tightened her grip on her handbag.
Today mattered.
No... that wasn't even strong enough.
Today felt like the first page of a life she'd been trying to reach for years.
There had been late nights studying until her eyes burned, rejected job applications she pretended didn't hurt, interviews that left her replaying every answer afterward.
And now?
She finally had a job.
A real one.
Marketing Assistant at Khanyisa Holdings.
Just thinking about it made her stomach flip.
To someone else, it might have sounded like a normal office position.
To her, it felt like proof that all those years of struggling had actually meant something.
The taxi jerked to a stop.
"Sisi, you're here."
Asemahle blinked and looked up.
"Oh. Thank you."
She climbed out and stood on the pavement for a second longer than necessary.
The building stretched into the sky above her, its glass walls glowing gold under the morning sun.
Her heart started beating faster.
Don't panic. It's just a building.
A very intimidating building.
She pulled out her phone.
A message from her best friend, Luyanda Zungu, immediately popped up.
Luyanda: Don't forget us when you're rich and famous.
A laugh escaped before she could stop it.
Asemahle: I still owe the taxi driver R10. Relax.
Three dots appeared instantly.
Luyanda: You've got this. Seriously. I'm proud of you.
For a moment, Asemahle just stared at the screen.
The knot in her chest loosened a little.
Asemahle: Thank you.
She slipped her phone back into her bag, straightened her shoulders, and headed inside.
---
The reception area looked like something from a TV show.
The floors gleamed so much she could practically see her reflection in them. Huge green plants sat in elegant pots. Employees walked past looking confident and busy, like they belonged there.
Asemahle suddenly became very aware of her outfit.
She'd spent almost an hour choosing it that morning.
Now she wasn't sure it was good enough.
A woman behind the reception desk smiled warmly.
"Good morning."
"Morning."
"You must be our new marketing assistant."
Asemahle nodded.
"That's me."
"Welcome to Khanyisa Holdings."
The words sent a little spark of excitement through her.
The receptionist handed her a visitor's card.
"Eighth floor."
"Thank you."
The lift doors closed.
Finally alone, Asemahle looked at her reflection in the mirrored wall.
Her dark curls were neatly styled.
Her makeup was simple and professional.
Nothing flashy.
She looked prepared.
At least on the outside.
Inside was another story entirely.
The lift dinged.
The doors slid open.
Chaos.
Organized chaos, but chaos nonetheless.
Phones rang nonstop.
Printers hummed.
People moved quickly between desks carrying files and laptops.
The whole floor buzzed with energy.
A young woman approached her with a bright smile.
"You must be Asemahle."
"Yes."
"I'm Ayanda."
Something about her immediately felt easy.
Friendly.
"I'll show you around."
Relief washed through Asemahle.
Thank goodness.
At least she wouldn't have to wander around looking lost.
---
The morning disappeared in a blur.
Names.
Faces.
Departments.
Forms.
More forms.
By lunchtime, Asemahle felt like her brain was running out of storage space.
Ayanda laughed when she saw the overwhelmed expression on her face.
"Too much information?"
"A little."
"A little?" Ayanda grinned. "You looked confused three departments ago."
Asemahle laughed.
"Fair."
"Oh, and there's a networking event tonight."
Her smile immediately vanished.
"Tonight?"
"Tonight."
Ayanda looked entirely too amused.
"All the major clients and investors will be there."
Asemahle groaned.
"I'm not ready for that."
"Nobody's ever ready for networking events."
"Comforting."
"Welcome to corporate life."
---
By evening, Asemahle had changed outfits three times.
Maybe four.
She'd lost count.
She stood in front of the mirror holding up yet another dress.
"No."
She tossed it onto the bed.
Her cousin, Snenhlanhla, burst out laughing.
"You've changed clothes so many times I'm starting to think you're the one getting married."
Asemahle rolled her eyes.
"It's my first company event."
"And?"
"What if I look ridiculous?"
"You don't."
"What if I say something stupid?"
"You probably won't."
"What if-"
Snenhlanhla held up a hand.
"Enough."
Asemahle stopped talking.
Her cousin smiled softly.
"You always underestimate yourself."
The words landed harder than expected.
Because maybe she did.
Eventually she settled on a navy-blue dress.
Simple.
Elegant.
Safe.
Good enough.
Hopefully.
---
The hotel looked like something out of a magazine.
Crystal chandeliers scattered light across the ballroom ceiling.
Soft music drifted through the room.
Waiters moved through clusters of guests carrying trays of drinks.
Everyone seemed important.
Everyone seemed confident.
Asemahle suddenly felt very aware of the fact that she was neither.
She grabbed a glass of juice and retreated toward the nearest corner.
A strategic corner.
A safe corner.
"First networking event?"
The voice startled her.
She turned.
An older woman stood beside her, smiling kindly.
Asemahle sighed.
"Is it really that obvious?"
The woman laughed.
"You've been standing next to the same plant for ten minutes."
Asemahle looked at the plant.
Then back at the woman.
Then started laughing too.
"Okay, that's embarrassing."
"A little."
For the first time that evening, her nerves eased.
Maybe tonight wouldn't be so bad.
---
Across the ballroom, Andile Makhoba walked in.
Almost immediately people surrounded him.
Investors.
Executives.
Business owners.
Everyone seemed to want a moment of his attention.
At twenty-nine, Andile had built one of Durban's most successful investment firms.
People saw the expensive suits.
The achievements.
The confidence.
The success.
They rarely saw what came after the meetings ended.
The quiet apartment.
The empty evenings.
The loneliness he never talked about.
His best friend and business partner, Sibusiso Mthembu appeared beside him.
"Try smiling."
"I am smiling."
Sibusiso stared at him.
"No. That's your serious face pretending to smile."
Andile ignored him.
His gaze drifted across the room.
Then stopped.
A young woman stood near the refreshments, laughing softly at something someone had said.
He found himself watching her.
Not because she was trying to stand out.
Actually, it was the opposite.
She wasn't trying to impress anyone.
Wasn't forcing conversations.
Wasn't acting like someone she wasn't.
She looked... genuine.
A rare thing in rooms like this.
Andile frowned slightly.
Interesting.
---
Meanwhile, Asemahle was finally starting to relax.
She'd survived awkward introductions.
Collected a handful of business cards.
Even managed a few decent conversations.
Not bad.
Maybe she'd actually done okay.
She turned-
And walked straight into someone.
The tray in her hands tipped.
Glasses rattled dangerously.
"Oh no-"
Before disaster could strike, strong hands caught the tray.
Everything froze.
Asemahle looked up.
Way up.
The man standing in front of her was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a perfectly fitted black suit.
Dark eyes met hers.
For a second, the noise around them faded.
The music.
The conversations.
The clinking glasses.
Gone.
All she could see was him.
Heat crept into her cheeks.
"I'm so sorry."
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"It's alright."
His voice was calm.
Steady.
The kind of voice that made people listen.
He glanced down at the tray.
"No casualties."
A nervous laugh escaped her.
"Thankfully."
For a moment neither moved.
Neither looked away.
Something strange settled between them.
Not familiarity.
Not exactly.
Just a feeling.
Like the sudden awareness that someone mattered before you'd even learned why.
Then a voice interrupted.
"Andile, the investors are waiting."
Asemahle blinked.
Andile?
The name sounded familiar.
Very familiar.
He gave a small nod.
"I should go."
Then he looked at her one last time.
"Enjoy your evening."
"You too."
And just like that, he disappeared into the crowd.
---
"Do you know who that was?"
Asemahle nearly jumped.
Ayanda had appeared beside her out of nowhere.
"No."
Ayanda stared at her.
Then nearly choked.
"No?"
Asemahle laughed.
"Should I?"
"That was Andile Makhoba."
The name clicked instantly.
Her eyes widened.
That Andile Makhoba.
Everyone knew who he was.
Young.
Successful.
Influential.
The kind of entrepreneur people wrote articles about.
Asemahle looked around the ballroom.
But he was already gone.
A strange feeling settled in her chest.
Disappointment.
Which made absolutely no sense.
---
Hours later, she sat in a taxi heading home.
City lights streaked past the window like blurred ribbons of gold and white.
She should have been thinking about work.
About tomorrow.
About making a good impression.
Instead, her mind kept replaying one moment.
Dark eyes.
A calm voice.
A brief smile.
Andile Makhoba.
Asemahle groaned softly and leaned her head against the window.
"Ridiculous."
Durban was a huge city.
Successful businessmen weren't thinking about women they'd accidentally bumped into at networking events.
It had been a random encounter.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
At least that's what she told herself.
Meanwhile, across the city, Andile stood alone in his penthouse apartment overlooking the ocean.
The waves rolled endlessly in the darkness below.
Normally his mind would have been on work.
Deals.
Meetings.
Numbers.
Tonight, it wasn't.
Instead, he found himself thinking about a determined young woman who had nearly dropped an entire tray of drinks.
A woman whose name he didn't even know.
And for the first time in a very long while, someone had managed to hold his attention.
Neither of them realized it yet.
But everything was about to change.
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