The Masked Valentine

She never really understood the point of the day; she only saw the holiday as an excuse to force gifts on loved ones, and often none of them was even from a place of love. Perhaps it was created by a feminist woman who couldn't deal with the fact that all of her friends were in a relationship, and she wasn't.

Sighing as she looked into the mirror, she admitted, “Okay, that sounds a little bitter, I know.” Turning her head to the grey cat sitting on the small couch in the corner of her room, she said, “Right? I mean, it’s not her fault I don’t have a date for Valentine’s.” The cat meowed, seemingly mocking her and saying, “Once again.”

She looked back into the mirror, taking in the full picture one last time. The floor‑length silk dress hugged her body, but it was her face that held her attention. Lerato was a South African with warm brown skin that seemed to hold the light rather than reflect it. Her eyes were brown too, but so deep in tone that they looked almost black—until she caught the sun or stood under a bright lamp, when flecks of amber woke up in them. A small mole sat high on her right cheek, like a secret mark only careful observers ever noticed. Her lips were a natural pink, slightly plump, always looking as though they were on the verge of a smile. She had a round face that softened every expression, and her hair was a full Afro, set in neat perm rods so the curls bounced in tight, glossy spirals around her head.

Enjoying the confidence that bloomed in her chest, a small smile appeared on her face. “But it’s not such a bad dress. And besides, when am I going to wear it again?”

"Lerato, are you ready?" Her head shifted from the mirror to the shouting voice. Footsteps echoed outside her bedroom door, and a second later, it swung open. She found herself eyeing the red gown her friend was wearing. The dress clung to her body, emphasising every curve and feature. Her black, flowing hair was pinned up away from her shoulders, drawing attention to her face and leaving her shoulders bare, with nothing but a silver necklace around her neck.

"Hau Lerato," Mathogonolo's pitch increased as she took in Reine's dress, "you look gorgeous."

"Apparently, not gorgeous enough to have a date according to Garfield," she joked, giving her cat a snide eye.

"Ah, never mind Garfield. You look marvellous; that dress will definitely be catching a lot of male attention tonight at the party." Lerato rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small smile that painted her face.

She turned to face Matlhogonolo and captured the girl's hands in hers. "Are you sure I should tag along? I don't want to ruin your night with Zamo."

Waving her hands around, Matlhogonolo turned both of their focus toward the mirror. "I don't mind, and Zamo doesn't mind either. Besides, I was so not going to let you spend another night here alone when there's a whole you-can-eat buffet at this party. Trust me, the food is divine. Now come on, Zamo is going to be here any minute. He should at least find us downstairs; you know how antsy he gets about time."

"Yeah, yeah, I will be down in a sec," Lerato said, laughing lightly as Matlhogonolo left the room, her heels echoing on the wooden floor.

Lerato took a final glance in the mirror, adjusting a strand of hair that had escaped her elegant updo. She took a deep breath, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness about the evening ahead.

After a quick peck for Garfield, she grabbed her purse and headed downstairs. At the bottom, she met Matlhogonolo, who was greeting Zamo, whom she assumed had just arrived. At the sound of her descent, they both looked at her.

"Wow, Lerato, you clean up well," Zamo complimented, earning him a smack to the chest. "Obviously, I only have eyes for my beautiful raven."

The interaction made Lerato laugh as she put on her white coat. "Are we ready to leave?" she asked, and the couple before her nodded. The trio left the house, Lerato looking back as they headed toward their destination.

She didn't really know where they were going. Every time she tried to ask Mathogonolo for details about the party, Matlhogonolo either shifted the conversation or told her that not going was an option. All she knew was that this would be the first time she would be meeting any of her friends' work colleagues.

Matlhogonolo worked in marketing, and Lerato understood that her company often handled a lot of big-name brands, which meant they threw small parties or holiday parties for employees here and there. Matlhogonolo was allowed to bring two plus-ones to the party, and although Lerato wanted more than anything to be sitting at home and watching reruns of Grimm with Garfield, she was more than happy for the night out, even if it meant being a third wheel at Valentine's party.

It was a win-win situation for her, and she couldn't really say no when Matlhogonolo had already bought the dress before she even asked Reine in the first place.

The car ride was long, the road seeming to lead them away from the echoing, noisy, busy streets of the city and into the vineyards and forest. In the rear‑view mirror, Matlhogonolo’s lighter brown skin glowed under the dashboard lights, her neat braids pulled back from a face full of sharp confidence and easy smiles, even as she rolled her eyes at Lerato's jokes.

Time seemed to drag, and the road curved around the big, dense trees, making Lerato a little anxious.

"This isn't an elaborate plan to kill me off and get my insurance because you're the beneficiary, right?" She laughed slightly at the joke as she eyed Magret through the rearview mirror.

"Lerato, don't be ridiculous," Matlhogonolo rolled her eyes. "You know I need you to live a few more years for the money to accumulate before I start thinking of ways to kill you." Zamo chuckled slightly as Matlhogonolo met Lerato's glare in the mirror.

"I forgot how much of a comedian you are," Lerato muttered, making Matlhogonolo laugh slightly. Matlhogonolo continued, "Don't worry, we are almost there. The party is being held at my boss's mansion. His wife likes throwing lavish parties, and usually, they have them at the office, but because it's the night of love, I guess they wanted to open their home." Lerato didn't miss the look Matlhogonolo gave Zamo when she said the word love.

A sense of belonging echoed through Lerato as she longed for someone like that, a partner to share a night like this with. Matlhogonolo and Zamo had met in college about 5 years ago, and they had been through a lot that might have made some couples call it quits, but they never did. Lerato often looked to them as an exemplary example of a good, stable relationship that she aspired to have but could never seem to find.

She sighed and looked out the window, watching the trees blur by as the moon seemed to chase them. Before she could start counting the stars, the car slowed to a stop.

Lerato looked ahead to a big black gate blocking their way. Inside the property, a gatehouse appeared, and its door opened. An average-sized man walked out of the small gate and approached the car.

Matlhogonolo rolled down her window, handed the man her employee tag, and gave him two invitation passes. The man flashed his flashlight at the tag and the passes, then shone it inside the car. He returned the tag, then tore the passes. He then turned and faced the small house, nodding to someone inside. The gate unlatched and opened, and Alec drove through.

As Zamo drove through the open gate, Lerato couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation. The path ahead led them deeper into the property, surrounded by the mansion's grandeur and the quiet beauty of the night.

They followed a winding driveway lined with tall trees, their branches casting shadows that danced in the moonlight. The mansion, lit by soft lights, came into full view. Its architecture spoke of elegance and opulence, standing as a testament to the host's affluence.

A valet signalled Zamo to park in a designated area, and soon the trio stepped out of the car onto a cobblestone driveway. Laughter and music floated through the air, creating a celebratory atmosphere.

Lerato, Matlhogonolo, and Zamo approached the entrance, where a doorman welcomed them with a courteous nod. The grand doors opened, revealing the vibrant scene inside. The spacious foyer was adorned with decorations, and chatter and music swirled around them.

As they made their way into the heart of the party, Lerato's eyes were drawn to the dazzling array of guests, each dressed in their finest attire. The scent of delicious food lingered in the air, tempting them to explore the culinary delights offered.

A man with a tray of drinks passed by, and Matlhogonolo stopped him, urging them to grab glasses of champagne from the tray. The entire time, Lerato couldn't get over the scene before her. Two questions rang through her head as she watched the crowd: What kind of marketing did Matlhogonolo do, and who exactly were her company's clients?

"Okay, we're going to mingle; I suggest you do the same," Matlhogonolo said, her eyes scanning the floor of guests before turning to Lerato, her eyebrows squinted and her eyes glinting with mischief. "And who knows, you might actually catch a last-minute Valentine."

She giggled before Zamo swept her into the crowd. Lerato stood in the four-way, her mind still overwhelmed by the party, and she didn't really know what to do or which direction to go. She stood there for a while and didn't notice the gentleman beside her.

"I am guessing you don't come to these things that often," he said, his arm brushing against hers.

"I don't go out, period," she muttered back; he chuckled slightly. The laugh seemed to pull her out of the trance; she jumped slightly, placing a hand over her mouth as she took in the man beside her.

He was tall, but not too tall that she would have to strain her neck; his eyes stared right at her through the mask he wore. He was wearing a brown three-piece suit that looked really good on him. His hair was full of curls that fell slightly over the mask.

"I'm sorry to scare you," he said, his voice warm and soft. "I just noticed another person who seemed not to fit in at this party and thought I could hang with you, if you don't mind."

She shook her head. "I don't mind, and I was really hoping I didn't stick out like a sore thumb."

He chuckled again. "Well, I wouldn't say a sore thumb; maybe like a cat in a house of dogs."

"That's a weird analogy." She smiled lightly as he led them through the room.

"You get used to them."

She laughed lightly and followed behind him, the music getting louder as they travelled through the house. At first, she wasn't quite sure where they were going as they climbed a flight of stairs and went down a dimly lit hall.

"I promise I am not leading you to your doom," he said, as if feeling her unease grow and grow, "I just thought you'd want to get out of the crowded space downstairs."

She hummed and followed quietly until they reached a door; it opened, and the room was pretty vacant, away from the noise, with walls lined with books. In the middle was a couch, and in front of the couch was a fireplace. To the side were glass doors that she saw led outside to what she guessed was a terrace.

He walked towards the doors and opened them; a light breeze pushed into the room, and he breathed it all in. She followed him.

“That is so much better,” he said.

“How did you find out about this room?” Lerato asked, taking in the stars in the sky and the trees beyond the small backyard.

“Well, it is my house. I have to know every inch of it,” he retorted like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Why are you not entertaining your guests?” Lerato questioned, eyeing the mystery man who happened to be extremely wealthy standing before her.

“Well, technically they don’t know I am not entertaining them. I mean, that’s the point of the masks, right?” he chuckled, coming closer to her, his steps echoing in the night. “My lips are sealed if yours are.”

Lerato’s laugh died in her throat. The words settled over her like another layer of disguise. His house. The mansion, the staff, the careful security at the gate, the way the guests moved as if they belonged here while she felt like an intruder in someone else’s life.

“Then tell me something true,” she said before she could stop herself. “Why hide from your own party?”

He leaned against the railing, gaze fixed on the dark line of trees beyond the terrace. “Because sometimes it’s easier to see people when they don’t know you’re watching.”

“And what do you see when you look at me?” The question slipped out before she could weigh it.

He turned then, the mask hiding most of his face but not the intensity in his eyes. “Someone who didn’t want to come, but did anyway. Someone who doesn’t believe in Valentine’s Day, but wore a dress that says otherwise.”

Lerato’s fingers tightened around her clutch. She had spent the evening pretending she was humouring Matlhogonolo, that this night didn’t matter. But standing here, with the host of the party looking at her like he could read every lie she’d told herself, the pretence cracked.

“If you know all that,” she said quietly, “then you already know more about me than I do.”

“Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe you just haven’t admitted it yet.”

Somewhere below them, music swelled, laughter rising like a tide. Lerato thought of Matlhogonolo and Zamo downstairs, of the careful way Matlhogonolo had avoided every question about this party, about her boss, about why a marketing company was throwing a Valentine’s event in a mansion that looked like it belonged in a film.

She looked back at the man beside her, at the mask, at the secret he was wearing like a second suit.

“If my lips are sealed,” she said slowly, “what happens when someone else starts talking?”

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Then we find out who this night was really for.”

Lerato felt the truth of that settle in her chest, heavy and bright. Whatever this party was, whoever this man was, her life had already tilted on its axis. She was no longer just Matlhogonolo’s plus‑one. She was part of the secret now.

And there was no going back.