Dreamscape Novels by Olivia K (2025)

09/07/2025

TITLE: A Heart on Trial

CHAPTER 6: The Nation’s Verdict

Monday morning brought a storm that no courtroom could contain.

By the time Lihle stepped out of her flat, the air already felt thick — not with humidity, but with judgment. She could feel it in the glances of her neighbors, in the way the woman at the corner spaza shop whispered behind her hand. Even the Uber driver who picked her up for work kept glancing at her through the mirror.

Her name was everywhere.

On X.
On Facebook.
On WhatsApp statuses.
On morning radio shows.

was trending at number one.
trailed just behind.

Screenshots of her social media profile, photos from her graduation, even a pixelated image from church — all were circulating like wildfire.

She sat stiffly in the back seat as the driver tuned into Ukhozi FM. The presenter’s voice boomed:

"Langelihle Ndleleni, the Christian woman from Port Elizabeth, is making headlines today. South Africa wants to know — what is a God-fearing, church-going woman doing defending one of the most feared men in KwaZulu-Natal? Is this justice, or betrayal of everything she claims to stand for?"

Lihle’s jaw tightened.

By the time she arrived at Shabangu Attorneys, the stares followed her like shadows.

Thandeka at reception barely looked her in the eye. Her colleague Vuyo offered a weak smile before slipping into his office. She passed two interns huddled around a phone, one muttering, “I’d never. Not in a million years.”

She entered her own office and closed the door gently.

Silence.

Then her phone lit up again.

"This you? Didn’t think you’d stoop this low, sis." – DM from a high school classmate.
"Lol imagine defending Razor and still posting Bible verses. Make it make sense." – Twitter comment.
“When did Christian lawyers become mouthpieces for criminals & murderers?” – DM on Instagram.

She sank into her chair, heart pounding.

Then came the knock.

It was Mr. Shabangu.

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. His face was unreadable.

“I assume you’ve seen the headlines?”

She nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“I need to know, Ndleleni… Can you handle this?”

Lihle looked up, voice steady despite the storm raging inside. “I didn’t come here to be liked. I came to seek justice. If I walk away now, I let the noise decide what’s right.”

He studied her, then gave a slow nod. “Good. Because we’ve received threats. And the media wants an interview. You’re not obligated to speak, but they won’t stop either way.”

“I won’t speak,” she said quietly. “Not yet.”

“Then hold your head high. And whatever happens next — don’t let them break your spirit.”

She nodded. He left.

Only once the door shut again did she allow the tears to pool.

*God, I’m drowning in judgment. I didn’t ask for fame. I didn’t ask to be a headline. I just wanted to serve You with my gift. Why does it feel like I’m being punished for obedience?*

No answer came. But she turned to her Bible on the desk, flipped to Romans 8.

“If God is for us, who can be against us?”

Her hands steadied. Her breathing slowed.

She would not back down.

But she would bleed for it.

09/07/2025

TITLE: A Heart on Trial

CHAPTER 5: Fractures

Saturday morning brought no rest.

Lihle woke early again, the weight of her choices pressing against her chest before she even opened her eyes. She lay still for a moment, her fingers curled around the edge of the blanket, staring at the ceiling.

Today, she was expected at Thabiso’s place. He had planned a quiet dinner for them. Just the two of them, he said. No distractions. No phones. Just love.

But she hadn’t told him about Razor.

She kept telling herself it was because she didn’t want to worry him. But deep down, she feared what it might reveal about *her*. About how she saw justice, faith… and mercy.

After a long shower and a silent prayer, she dressed in a simple summer dress and flats, packed a tub of her famous malva pudding into a brown paper bag, and headed to Scottsville.

Thabiso’s townhouse was warm and clean, as always. Smooth jazz played in the background, the scent of grilled lamb thick in the air.

He met her with a smile and a soft kiss on the forehead. "Finally, my favourite person."

She smiled faintly. "Smells amazing in here."

Dinner was lovely. Easy conversation. Laughter, even. He told her about a senior partner at his firm trying to sabotage a deal and the drama that followed. She listened. She told him about a colleague at work spilling coffee on an affidavit. He laughed.

But when he asked, “So what cases are you working on these days?” — her heart paused.

She sipped her juice, kept her eyes low. “Nothing exciting. Some bail hearings. Property disputes.”

A beat of silence.

He studied her. “You sure?”

She forced a smile. “Thabiso, come on. Let’s not talk about work.”

He nodded slowly, though something flickered in his eyes.

They ended the night curled up on his couch, watching an old series, his arm around her shoulder. But even in that comfort, Lihle felt the tension. A wall quietly building.

The Next Morning

It was a Sunday. Lihle had just returned from church, still wearing her peach dress and gold earrings, when her phone buzzed.

Multiple times.

WhatsApps. Missed calls. Twitter tags.

And one message from Thabiso, sent ten minutes ago:

“Are you joking right now?”

Her heart skipped.

She opened X (formerly Twitter) and her stomach dropped.

TRENDING IN SOUTH AFRICA: RAZOR CASE TAKES NEW TURN

Below the tweet was a newspaper scan. There she was - front page again. A blurry photo of her stepping out of Westville Prison, file in hand, next to the bold headline:

“Christian Attorney Defends KwaMashu’s Most Dangerous Gang Leader”

She clicked the article. It named her. Her full name. Her firm.

*“Sources confirm Langelihle Ndleleni has been assigned to represent Sabelo ‘Razor’ Mazibuko, accused of multiple crimes including gang-related violence.”

Panic surged in her chest.

Her phone rang. Thabiso.

She answered quietly. “Hi...”

"You weren’t going to tell me?" His voice was sharp. "You’re defending Razor Mazibuko, Lihle? Razor?"

"I didn’t choose this case, Thabiso. I was assigned."

"And that’s supposed to make it better? Do you know what people are saying? Your name is everywhere. They’re calling you the woman who prays for killers."

She flinched. "I’m doing my job."

"No. You’re risking your future. Our future. My firm is already whispering. Do you know how this looks?"

Lihle gripped the edge of her desk. "So that’s it? You’re embarrassed?"

"I’m worried! And hurt that you kept this from me. Why didn’t you just tell me, Lihle?"

She was silent.

Because I knew you’d look at me like this.

Because I didn’t want to feel like a failure for choosing obedience over comfort.

Because maybe... deep down, I wanted to see this case through.

"I need time to think," he said, quieter now. "Please."

The line went dead.

That night, Lihle cried harder than she had in months. Not for Thabiso. Not for the article. But for the storm she felt brewing deep inside.

'Lord, I said yes to this because I believed You were in it. Don’t let me drown.'

And somewhere in the night, in the stillness of her flat, she heard it in her spirit:

"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you."

09/07/2025

TITLE: A Heart on Trial

CHAPTER 4: Treading the Line

Lihle sat at her desk long after everyone else had gone home, the thick file marked S. Mazibuko open before her. The overhead lights buzzed faintly, casting a sterile glow on the pages that detailed a life soaked in violence — police reports, ballistics evidence, surveillance stills, and witness statements that all painted Razor as a ruthless gang leader.

But her mind kept drifting to their meeting that morning.

“You reminded me of what I lost.”

He had said it with a stillness that unnerved her. Not a man trying to manipulate — but a man trying to remember who he was before the world dirtied him.

And still… it didn’t change what he was accused of.

Lihle leaned back, pressing her fingers to her temples. “God, what am I doing?” she whispered.

The heaviness returned — the familiar ache that clung to her since her father died. She had promised herself she’d rise, that she’d make him proud. And now, here she was, assigned to defend a man with enough blood on his name to fill a chapter in hell.

Her phone buzzed. A WhatsApp message from 'Thabiso ❤️' .

'Dinner tomorrow at my place? Need a break, babe. Work’s killing me.'

She stared at the message.

Thabiso Mkhize. Her fiancé. Steady. Reliable. Loved by her mother. A man who believed in order, ambition, and appearances. He knew nothing about the Razor case. She hadn’t told him.

“Dinner sounds great. I’ll bring dessert,” she replied with a forced smile.

But her chest tightened.

That night, back at her flat, Lihle fell to her knees again.

“I need You, Lord. More than ever,” she prayed, tears sliding down her cheeks. “I don’t want to carry this. I don’t want to defend him. But I also don’t want to disobey. Help me see what You see. Help me not to lose myself in this mess.”

A soft knock interrupted her. Her neighbor’s child, Naledi, peeked in with a smile. “Sis Lihle? My mom said you can come eat if you’re hungry.”

Lihle smiled through the tears. “Tell her I’ll be right there.”

Sometimes, the grace of God came in small kindnesses.

-

Meanwhile, at Westville Prison, Razor lay wide awake on his bunk, staring at the ceiling.

Something about that woman unsettled him. Not just the resemblance to Bongi, but her fire. Her silent judgment. Her honesty. She didn’t want to be there — but she’d come anyway.

He respected that. More than he’d admit.

The guard, Bafana, passed by. “Your boys are making headlines again. Another shootout in KwaMashu.”

Razor’s jaw clenched.

He’d tried to call them off. Told his second-in-command, Zakhele 'Zakes', to lie low. But clearly, someone wasn’t listening. The streets were shifting — and fast.

“If I don’t get out soon, I’ll lose control completely.”

He needed Lihle to win this. Even if it meant playing the long game.

And somehow… he trusted her.

09/07/2025

TITLE: A Heart on Trial

CHAPTER 3: The Reason Why

It had been a month ago when Sabelo Mazibuko, better known in the streets and cells as Razor, first saw her.

He was sitting on his prison bunk, staring blankly at the grey wall of his cell, drowning in silence and rage. He hadn’t spoken much to anyone since his arrest. The lawyers they sent were just faces with fake smiles and pity in their eyes. He didn’t need their mercy. He needed to be left the hell alone.

Then a guard who's also on his payroll tossed a folded newspaper into his cell. "Front page," the man said casually. "Thought you might like this one."

Razor ignored it for a while. But boredom and curiosity got the better of him. He opened the paper slowly—and froze.

There she was.

Langelihle Samara Ndleleni.

Headline: “Young Black Advocate Wins Landmark Corruption Case Against Municipal Official.”

She stood outside the courthouse, robes neat, braids swept back, and a faint, tired smile on her lips. But what arrested him wasn’t just her face — it was the familiarity.

She looked like Bongi.

His sister.

The last real light in his life before everything went dark.

Bongi had been a year younger than him. Soft-spoken. Always reading. Always praying. He had promised to protect her.

But she’d been caught in a crossfire. Wrong place. Wrong time. Razor never forgave himself for it.

As he stared at the photo of Lihle, memories of Bongi rushed in like a tide. That same steadiness. That same poise.

“She even stands like Bongi… head high, but tired eyes,” he thought.

That night, Razor didn’t sleep. The next morning, he told the warden: "Get me her. I want her. No one else."

Now, two months into his sentence, and after their strained first meeting, Razor sat across from Lihle in their second consult session. He was calmer today. Less guarded. But his eyes still watched her too closely.

Lihle took out her notebook and pen. Her tone was cool and precise. "Before we continue reviewing the statements, there’s something I want to ask. Why me?"

He didn’t answer at first.

Then he leaned forward slightly. "You want the truth?"

She nodded.

"I saw you in the paper a month ago. That corruption case. You stood outside that court like you’d just survived a war. I recognised that look."

Lihle blinked. She hadn’t expected that.

"And?"

He exhaled slowly. "You reminded me of my sister. Bongi. She was all the good I had. Gentle. Brave. She died in a shootout I should’ve stopped. She died because I didn’t get out in time."

A beat of silence passed.

He looked up at her again. Something raw flickering behind his eyes.

"That’s why I chose you. I needed someone who reminded me of what I lost. Someone strong. Someone clean."

Lihle swallowed.

Something about the way he said it — not with manipulation or charm, but with quiet regret — unsettled her.

She cleared her throat. "Whatever you saw in me, Mr. Mazibuko, I’m not your sister. I’m your advocate. And this won’t be easy."

He nodded slowly. "I don’t expect easy. Just… don’t give up on me. Not yet."

For the first time, she didn’t look away.

"We’ll see."

06/07/2025

TITLE: A Heart on Trial

CHAPTER 2: The Man Behind the Name

Westville Prison was a fortress of cement, fences, and rusted silence. As Lihle stepped out of the taxi and approached the main gate, she tightened her grip on her black pilot case. She had worn navy slacks, a fitted blazer, and a soft cream blouse. Simple but strong. Her hair was in a clean, elegant bun, and her face held a quiet poise that came from prayer—though her stomach churned.

A guard eyed her from behind the glass booth.

"Legal visit?"

"Yes. Langelihle Ndleleni. I’m here to see Sabelo Mazibuko."

He looked her up and down, a flicker of something between pity and curiosity in his expression. "You're brave, sister. That one's not like the others."

She said nothing. There was no point.

Minutes later, she was led into a cold visiting room. Two chairs. One table. Harsh lighting that did nothing to soften the mood. She sat with her back straight and her nerves tightly leashed.

And then he entered.

Sabelo Simphiwe Mazibuko.

Razor.

Tall. Broad. Shackled at the ankles, hands cuffed in front. The orange prison jumpsuit did little to diminish the danger that clung to him like smoke. His face was hard, sharp—until his eyes landed on her.

He stopped.

A flicker of disbelief. He couldn't believe she really came.

She didn’t flinch. She met his eyes evenly. "Good morning, Mr. Mazibuko."

He sat slowly, still studying her. "You’re really here?"

"Yes, you did ask for me. I'm Langelihle Ndleleni. I’ve been assigned to your case."

He chuckled under his breath. "You don’t look like a lawyer. You look like..."

She raised an eyebrow. "I’d think carefully before finishing that sentence."

He grinned but said nothing.

She opened her pilot case and began unpacking: a pen, a legal pad, the docket. As she pulled her notebook from the side pocket, the flap shifted—revealing a black, worn Bible.

Razor's eyes narrowed.

"You a church girl?"

She paused, then nodded. "Yes."

"Tsk." He leaned back, chains rattling. "They sent me a Christian. Of course."

"Is that a problem?"

He looked her dead in the eye. "You're going to judge me. All of you do."

She held his gaze, her voice cooler than before. "Judging you isn't in my job description. But pretending I admire your choices? That's not in there either."

His jaw clenched. "You don’t even want to be here."

She didn’t deny it. That silence said everything.

"You were forced," he said. "They dumped me on your desk, and now you’re here trying to impress your boss by keeping it together."

Her lips pressed into a line. "You're not wrong. But that doesn’t change what I came here to do."

"And what’s that? Preach to me while you tick boxes?"

She leaned forward. "No. I’m here to do my job. But make no mistake—I know exactly what kind of man I’m sitting across from. And don’t expect me to look the other way."

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Razor’s expression shifted. He looked almost... curious.

"You remind me of my sister," he said at last. "Before life broke her."

That caught her off guard. Her fingers stilled on the page.

He looked down. "She was the only good thing I ever had."

Lihle softened slightly but recovered quickly. "I’m sorry for your loss."

He waved it off. "You don’t need to mean it."

She packed up slowly, tension clinging to the space between them.

"We’ll meet again soon. We need to go over everything in detail."

He nodded. "Do I call you Advocate Bible?"

"Call me Ms. Ndleleni. That’s who’s representing you."

He smirked, but the humour didn’t reach his eyes.

As she stood and walked to the door, he watched her go, something unreadable flickering in his expression.

He muttered, "Langelihle... Why would someone like you walk into my hell?"

06/07/2025

TITLE: A Heart on Trial

CHAPTER 1: Called to Stand

The morning air in Pietermaritzburg was crisp and quiet, as if the city itself hadn’t quite woken up yet. Langelihle Samara Ndleleni sat at the edge of her bed, her Bible open on her lap, and the faint sound of Hillsong Worship playing softly in the background. She had woken just before 5 a.m., as she did every day, drawn out of sleep by the same mixture of purpose and pain that had lived in her chest for four years.

Her eyes lingered on the verse she’d just read—Isaiah 41:10: "Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God." She closed her eyes and whispered the words again. It wasn’t just scripture. It was survival.

The photo on her nightstand caught her eye. It was slightly worn at the edges now. Her father, Vuyolwethu Ndleleni, beamed with pride beside her in her graduation gown. That day had felt like prophecy fulfilled. Until the call came. Until joy was swallowed by loss.

He had died of a sudden heart attack just minutes before she was to give her speech as class representative. That day, her world had split in two—before and after. She remembered running to the hospital in her heels, her cap in hand, makeup streaking with tears.

Lihle touched the frame gently. "I’m still trying, Tata," she whispered. "Still standing. Just wish you could see it."

She got dressed quickly, in her usual sleek but modest workwear—tailored pants, a white blouse, and a blazer that made her feel stronger than she sometimes was. As she tied her braids into a low bun, her phone buzzed. Mama.

"Molo, Mama," she answered, balancing her phone between her shoulder and ear while pouring boiling water into her mug.

"Molo, mntwan’am," came the warm voice of her mother from Port Elizabeth. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did. And you?"

"We’re fine, shame. But your brother’s shoes are talking, Lihle. And Naledi wants to apply for nursing next year."

Lihle sighed, but smiled softly. "Tell her to apply. I’ll send money for registration. And I’ll sort Zuko’s shoes next week."

"God bless you, Samara. Your father would be proud, you hear me? Don’t forget what he said—‘God first, always.’"

"I won’t forget, Mama. I love you."

"I love you too, Nana."

She ended the call, sipped her tea, and stood by the window for a moment, watching Pietermaritzburg stretch into life. Taxi horns echoed faintly in the distance, and gospel music rose from a neighbor’s open kitchen window.

Today felt different. Heavy, somehow.

-

Lihle arrived at Shabangu Attorneys just after seven. The building stood proud and modern among older structures in the city centre. It still humbled her sometimes—to walk these halls as an associate attorney, not just a black woman from KwaZakhele in Port Elizabeth, but Langelihle Ndleleni, qualified and called.

She greeted the receptionist with a smile and headed straight for the elevator. On the fourth floor, the energy shifted. Phones rang, shoes clicked on polished floors, and quiet tension hung in the air as deadlines loomed. She passed several offices, her colleagues already typing furiously or sipping strong coffee. Most were older, many were white, and almost none had grown up like she had. Still, she had earned her place here.

Before she could settle into her office, her name rang out:

"Ndleleni!"

She turned. Mr. Mandla Shabangu, managing partner, stood by his glass-walled office, motioning her inside.

"Morning, Sir," she greeted, stepping in.

He nodded. "Take a seat. I won’t take long."

Her heart picked up a little. It wasn’t every day that Shabangu summoned her directly.

He slid a thick file across his desk. "You’ve been assigned a new case. Very high-profile. Very delicate."

Lihle opened the file slowly. The name on the top stopped her breath.

Sabelo Simphiwe Mazibuko.
Alias: Razor.

Charged with racketeering, attempted murder, possession of illegal fi****ms, and suspected links to at least three gang-related executions in KwaMashu.

Her throat dried. "Sir… this—"

"I know who he is," Shabangu interrupted, calm but firm. "He requested a female attorney. Said he wouldn’t speak to anyone else. And specifically someone who… resembles his late sister."

She blinked. "Sir, this is dangerous. What if—"

"Ndleleni, I’m not forcing you. But no one else wanted him. He needs legal representation. And between us? I think there’s more to him than the headlines."

She swallowed hard. "And if I say yes?"

"Your first meeting is tomorrow morning at Westville Prison."

-

Back in her office, Lihle locked the door behind her, leaned against it, and exhaled. The file felt radioactive in her hands.

She placed it gently on her desk, pulled out her Bible from her drawer, and dropped to her knees.

"God…"

The word came out broken. Her lips trembled as tears welled up.

"I didn’t come here for this. I came here to rise, to serve, to honour You. This man… he’s everything I’ve been warned about. I don’t understand why You’re placing this in my hands."

Silence.

She flipped her Bible to Proverbs 3, the scripture her father used to recite:

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.”

She stayed there, kneeling, for a long moment.

And then, with trembling fingers, she reached for the file and opened it again.

"Not my will," she whispered, "but Yours be done."

She stood.

Her heart might’ve been on trial—but her faith was already standing.

08/06/2025

Hi guys,

I haven't forgotten about you. The next story will start when we hit 400 likes.

Please take a second of your time and invite your friends and family to like and follow this page. Every single invite counts, and your support means the world to me! Let’s build this community together — one friend at a time.

Can we get the page to 1K by the end of the week? I believe we can.

Thank you in advance for your love, support, and good vibes. Let’s keep growing, glowing, and winning together 🥰🥰🙏❤️

Be Kind To One Another

04/06/2025

A THANK YOU NOTE!

To My Wonderful Readers 💫

I just want to take a moment to say thank you from the bottom of my heart. Writing Love Beyond the Lights has been such a beautiful journey — and your unwavering support made every chapter worth it.

Every read, every like and every comment reminded me why I should continue writing. Sino and Callum’s journey was written with love 🥹✨

Whether you laughed, cried, swooned, or screamed at any plot, thank you for riding the wave with me. Your love gave this story its light. ❤️

This is not goodbye — it’s just the beginning. Stay tuned for more stories from my heart to yours.

Much love always,
Olivia 🥰

04/06/2025

EPILOGUE: A New Light

Two years later...

The Cape Town breeze swept gently through the open windows of the McClain seaside home. It was late afternoon, the sky painted in hues of peach and gold, the ocean whispering in the distance. Inside, laughter echoed through the sunlit living room.

Sino sat on the rug, her love weave tied up in a messy bun, wearing a loose cotton dress. Her legs were tucked beneath her as she helped a giggling toddler stack brightly colored blocks.

“Come on, little man,” she encouraged, her smile glowing. “Let’s see how high we can go.”

Avery Amahle McClain — affectionately called Avery — babbled excitedly, knocking the tower down with a chubby hand, then clapping at the mess he made.

From the hallway, Callum appeared, barefoot and grinning, holding a sippy cup.

“Trying to raise a baby genius, I see,” he teased.

“Someone has to balance out your chaos,” Sino replied, standing to kiss him.

Callum scooped Avery into his arms and lifted him like a plane, the toddler shrieking with joy.

“I missed this,” Callum said, voice softer now. “You. Him. Us.”

“You’ve only been away for one day baby,” Sino laughed.

“That’s too long,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I still can’t believe this is our life.”

Just then, the doorbell rang.

Sinazo burst in without waiting, dressed in a form-fitting jumpsuit and heels, hair bouncing as she twirled dramatically.

“I come bearing wedding invites!” she declared, waving a handful of white envelopes.

Sino gasped. “He finally proposed?!”

“On Table Mountain. Sunset. With a string quartet. So over the top.” Sinazo rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop smiling. “And I said yes. Obviously.”

Callum raised an eyebrow. “So... we’re doing this again?”

“Yup,” Sinazo beamed. “And you’re walking me down the aisle, Sino. No arguments.”

From behind her, Scott walked in with a confident smirk and a protective arm around her waist. “Told you I’d win her over.”

“You did,” Sinazo said, tilting her head. “Now don’t mess it up.”

Everyone laughed.

As the sun dipped lower and the family gathered around, Avery babbled something that sounded suspiciously like “dada” and reached for Callum.

Callum’s heart swelled.

Sino slipped her hand into his. He looked at her — really looked at her — and saw the same woman who once didn't know who he was. And now, here she was: his wife, the mother of his child, and the love of his life.

He kissed her knuckles softly. “Mrs. McClain... I’d choose you in every lifetime.”

Sino smiled. “Good. Because we’ve got a whole future to build.”

And as laughter filled the room, the ocean hummed beyond the windows, and a new chapter quietly began.

THE END.

04/06/2025

BONUS CHAPTER 3: Forever Starts Now

The morning of the wedding bloomed with golden sunlight, warm breezes, and the scent of sea salt and white roses. Durban was showing off — and so was Michael McClain’s booked resort. The beachfront had been transformed into a dreamscape: white drapes fluttered in the wind, flower petals lined the aisle, and a grand floral arch stood proudly where the couple would say their vows.

Sino stood before a mirror in her suite, tears already threatening her lashes. Her gown shimmered with delicate beadwork, its fitted bodice melting into soft tulle that cascaded like ocean foam. Sinazo and her cousins fussed around her, making last-minute adjustments.

“You look like a queen,” Sinazo said, eyes a little glassy.

“Thanks to all of you,” Sino whispered, clutching her bouquet of orchids and lilies. “I’m ready.”

Music began to drift in from the beachfront. Guests turned to watch as the bridal procession began. One by one, bridesmaids and groomsmen walked down the aisle — including Sinazo and Scott, who couldn’t stop exchanging amused, lingering glances.

Then came Sino, arm in arm with her father. The moment her eyes met Callum’s, the world blurred. He stood tall in an ivory suit, his eyes glossy, his smile trembling.

She reached him, heart full, breath shallow. The ceremony unfolded like poetry — laughter, tears, promises exchanged under the blessing of the sea and sky.

“I’ve loved you the first time I laid my eyes on you,” Callum said, voice cracking as he placed the ring on her finger. “And I’ll love you beyond time itself.”

When the officiant declared them husband and wife, applause erupted as Callum pulled her in for a kiss that silenced the waves themselves.

-

The reception sparkled with festivity. Laughter rang through the air, wine flowed freely, and the dance floor pulsed beneath fairy lights. Speeches were made — Michael’s, full of dad jokes; Sino’s father’s, tender and proud.

Scott and Sinazo danced again, but this time there was less teasing, more tenderness. His hand lingered respectfully at her waist, and when she rested her head on his shoulder, he closed his eyes, quietly content.

Later, under the starlit sky, the music slowed. Callum extended a hand to his bride. “Dance with me, Mrs. McClain?”

She smiled, placing her hand in his. “Always.”

They moved together, swaying in rhythm with the night. The world melted around them — the guests, the music, the clinking of glasses — until it was just them. A man and a woman, now husband and wife.

Sino leaned in close and took his hand, guiding it gently to rest on her belly.

His brows furrowed, confused — until her eyes met his, soft and shimmering.

“Someone’s going to be a daddy in a few months,” she whispered.

Callum froze, then slowly looked down at his hand. His breath caught. “Are you serious?”

She nodded, tears brimming.

Emotion surged in him like a wave. He cupped her face, forehead resting against hers. “Sino… Mrs. McClain… you’ve just made me the happiest man alive.”

And beneath the stars, surrounded by love, they danced — the beginning of forever already blossoming between them.

04/06/2025

BONUS CHAPTER 2: Temptation Under the Palms

The sun had barely risen when the sound of crashing waves and chirping seagulls coaxed Sinazo from sleep. The Durban sky stretched wide in gentle hues of peach and lavender. Slipping out of her suite quietly, she wrapped herself in a loose sarong over her swimsuit and made her way to the beach. The resort was still asleep, except for a few early risers walking along the shoreline.

She wasn’t expecting to find anyone familiar.

But there he was.

Scott McClain, shirtless in board shorts, standing ankle-deep in the water, his surfboard under one arm, his hair damp and glistening from the ocean. He looked up as she approached, grinning in that cocky, lopsided way.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” he asked.

She stopped a few feet away, trying not to stare too obviously. “You surf?”

He smirked. “I do many things. Surfing just happens to be the least dangerous.”

“Is that supposed to impress me?”

“Is it working?”

She rolled her eyes, though her lips twitched with amusement. “Barely.”

Scott nodded toward the ocean. “Come in. Water’s perfect.”

Sinazo hesitated. “I didn’t bring a board.”

He tossed her one of the resort’s learner boards lying in the sand. “Good thing I came prepared.”

A few minutes later, the two were in the water. She was a fast learner, and he was a surprisingly patient teacher. Every time she wiped out, she’d come up sputtering, only to see him laughing — not at her, but with a kind of delighted awe.

Eventually, she managed to ride a small wave, and when she reached the shore, breathless and triumphant, Scott jogged up behind her, clapping.

“You’re a natural,” he said, eyes gleaming.

She turned to face him, soaked and glowing. “That was insane! I can’t believe I actually—”

Before she could finish, he cupped her face and kissed her.

It was sudden, sun-warmed, and electric.

For a few blissful seconds, the only sounds were their heartbeats and the rhythmic call of the ocean. Then she pulled back, breathless.

“Scott…” she began.

He searched her eyes. “I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you.”

She shook her head, half-laughing, half-terrified. “You don’t even know me.”

He stepped closer. “I want to. That kiss? That wasn’t a game to me.”

Her heart thundered. But before she could answer, the crackle of a walkie-talkie interrupted them. One of the resort staff approached shyly, radio in hand.

“Excuse me… uh, Miss Sinazo? Miss Sino’s looking for you. Makeup trial.”

Sinazo stepped back, startled. “Right. Right, I should go.”

Scott picked up her board, handing it to her gently. “Will I see you later?”

She looked at him, lips still tingling. “You already know the answer.”

As she walked away, Scott stood watching her, the surfboard tucked under one arm, his grin fading into something softer—something real.

He hadn’t planned on falling. But under the palms, beside the waves and behind the teasing, something had shifted.

And Sinazo felt it too.

Dreamscape Novels by Olivia K

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