Lives Between Walls

I checked my phone again.

Nothing.

The message I had dropped into the company group chat ten minutes earlier still floated there unanswered.

I looked around the reception.

The lodge was beautiful.

Massive oak beams stretched overhead like the ribs of an ancient animal. Timber columns—once living trees—stood frozen in place, holding up a roof of thick thatch. Warm afternoon light spilled across polished concrete floors and leather couches. Somewhere in the distance, children laughed. Glasses clinked. Families wandered through the reception, studying framed photographs of lions and elephants before disappearing deeper into the reserve.

Everyone belonged to someone.

I was the only one waiting.

Perhaps that was why the building noticed me.

I picked up the same wildlife magazine for the second time and turned pages I wasn’t reading.

“Excuse me, sir?”

A gentle touch on my shoulder pulled me back.

The receptionist smiled.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” I said, forcing one of my own. “Just waiting for my colleagues.”

“Oh, you’re with the corporate booking?”

“I think so.”

“The team-building group?”

“That’s us.”

It was only my first month at the company.

I barely knew anyone.

Team building, they had called it.

“You’ll love it,” Jane from HR had laughed earlier that week. “It’s impossible not to make friends.”

I wasn’t so sure.

Friendship had always arrived late for me.

A few minutes later the entrance doors opened again.

Rachel.

She sat opposite me at work.

We had exchanged the kind of office greetings colleagues exchange without ever really knowing one another.

Her face brightened when she spotted me.

I realised mine probably had too.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

We hugged awkwardly.

She smelled of roses and something darker I couldn’t name.

“Are we the first ones here?”

I checked my watch.

“We’re actually thirty minutes late.”

She frowned.

“Has anyone said anything?”

I shook my head.

“I’m sure they’re just running behind.”

She sat beside me, scrolling through her phone.

Silence pressed its palms against us.

Not uncomfortable.

Just unfamiliar.

Another half hour passed.

Then Rachel lifted her phone to her ear.

“What?… No… Seriously?… You’re joking.”

A pause.

“Oh my word…”

My stomach tightened.

Even the timber above us seemed to creak, leaning in, straining to hear every word.

“I’m with him now.”

Another pause.

“Okay.”

She ended the call.

I looked at her.

“Well?”

She rubbed her forehead.

“You won’t believe this.”

“What happened?”

“The others aren’t coming.”

“What do you mean?”

“Apparently one of the cars broke down,” she said rolling her eyes.

I stared at her.

“So…”

“So it’s just us.”

I stood.

“Well, I guess that’s that.”

“We drive home.”

The receptionist appeared almost immediately.

“Everything alright?”

Rachel explained what had happened.

The receptionist listened patiently before shaking her head.

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”

“What do you mean?”

“The booking has already been paid in full.”

“So?”

“So there aren’t any refunds.”

I blinked.

“You mean…”

Rachel looked at me.

“…we’re supposed to stay?”

The receptionist smiled.

“You don’t have to.”

“But the accommodation has already been paid for.”

Rachel laughed first.

“Bonga…”

She covered her face.

“This is starting to sound like a date.”

I felt every drop of blood rush into my cheeks.

“It really isn’t.”

“I know,” she laughed, “I just imagine trying to explain this to my fiancé.”

A tinge of guilt washed over me, as I felt the weight of the tatch roof settle onto my shoulders.

“I think you should go. I’ll stay. You can drive back.”

She became quiet.

“It’s nearly a three-hour drive.”

Another silence.

“Maybe…”

She looked away.

“…maybe I stay tonight and leave first thing tomorrow.”

Even before she finished speaking, colour rose into her cheeks.

“The lodge has four bedrooms,” I said far too quickly.

“We won’t even see each other.”

She laughed softly.

“I know.”

But something had shifted.

Not between us.

Within us.

Curiosity.

Awareness.

The possibility of something neither of us had invited.

The receptionist returned carrying two key cards.

“So…”

She smiled.

“Shall I check you in?”

Rachel looked at me.

I looked back.

Neither of us wanted to make the decision.

“Yes,” I finally said.

“We’ll stay.”

Standing at the reception counter beside Rachel felt strangely intimate.

Families stood behind us.

Couples stood in front of us.

Without meaning to, everyone placed us into the same invisible category.

Yet we had no name.

Not husband and wife.

Not boyfriend and girlfriend.

Not family.

Just…

two people sharing a booking.

“Here you go.”

We reached for the keys together.

Our fingers brushed.

I pulled my hand away immediately.

Like touching a hot stove.

***

We walked in silence towards our chalet.

Wheelie bags rolled behind us over the stone path.

“This isn’t weird…”

Rachel gave a wavering smile.

“…right?”

“It’s just team building.”

I shrugged.

“With a much smaller team.”

She laughed.

But her eyes lingered.

I unlocked the front door.

It opened with a slow wooden groan, grudgingly revealing its magnificent interior.

Concrete screed floors.

Heavy timber beams.

A broad staircase rising into shadow.

The exposed rafters hung overhead like the teeth of some patient predator waiting for weakness before it could pounce.

Rachel stepped inside.

“Oh…”

She turned towards me slowly.

“It’s beautiful Bonga.”

It was.

And so was she.

Suddenly the four-bedroom house shrunk into only one room.

I only had to survive one night.

One night.

In one room.

I thought about Joseph.

Running from Potiphar’s wife.

About refusing even the appearance of compromise.

I closed the front door behind us.

The sound resounded through the empty house like a gavel pronouncing a sentence.

***

A week later I was back at work.

Morning light has a cruel habit of exposing what darkness only whispers.

That was when I learned the truth.

In this office, team building was not always about teams.

These weekends happened often.

Too often.

Someone always organised them.

Everyone always cancelled.

At the last minute.

Leaving two unsuspecting colleagues alone at an expensive lodge already paid for.

People laughed about it.

They placed bets.

They watched.

Sometimes they blackmailed.

Sometimes marriages ended.

Sometimes careers did.

The weekend had never been the game.

The people were.

I wish I had discovered that before I walked through those doors.

Before temptation had learned my name.

I ran that night.

Like Joseph.

As fast as my feet could carry me.
…

Except, I ran through her.