By the third day, their messages had become a quiet rhythm. Lomile would wake to a greeting from him, and before she slept, his voice echoed somewhere in her mind. She had begun to crave his words the way one craves the comfort of warm sunlight on a cold morning. Every message from Vincent felt deliberate. He never used too many words, yet everything he said seemed to settle deep inside her.
That morning he asked, Do you like to hear voices or do you prefer reading words?
She thought for a moment before replying. Voices, I think. They make things real.
Minutes later her phone vibrated. A voice note. Her heart skipped. She held the phone close but hesitated to press play. When she finally did, his voice filled the room. It was calm, deep, and steady.
"Good morning, Lomile. I told you to think of me before you sleep. Did you obey?"
The sound of his voice wrapped around her like a slow tide. She could almost see his face in her mind, the way he must have looked when he said those words. She replayed the note twice before replying.
Yes Sir. I did. I thought of you.
Another voice note followed, shorter this time.
"Good. I want you to listen carefully. There will be moments when I am silent. That silence is not absence. It is control. When you do not hear from me, you will still follow what I told you. That is how trust begins."
She sat in silence, her chest rising and falling slowly. No man had ever spoken to her that way before, not with authority that felt so calm, so sure.
I understand Sir, she typed.
He sent another note. "Do you really? Understanding means obedience. I will ask you something now. You will not question it. You will do it."
She swallowed. Her fingers trembled slightly as she waited for the next message.
"Stand in front of your mirror," his voice said. "Look at yourself. Tell me what you see. Do not dress up, do not fix your hair. Just look."
She obeyed without thinking. Standing in front of the mirror, she stared at her reflection. Her hair was tied back loosely. Her face was bare. She saw a woman she knew and yet did not know.
I see a woman trying to understand herself, she wrote back.
His reply came almost immediately. "That is not enough. Look again. Do you see a woman who hides or a woman who listens?"
Her eyes softened. A woman who listens, she replied.
"Then you are already learning," he said in the next voice note.
Something about that line made her smile. It was not praise, it was recognition.
Later that afternoon, as she walked through Maseru, her phone buzzed again.
"What are you wearing?" his voice asked.
She smiled to herself, replying with a photo of her jeans and blouse. He responded, "Next time, wear a dress. Something soft. You look better when you do not hide behind fabric."
Her face flushed. She typed, Yes Sir.
Evening came quietly. She sat on her bed listening to the last voice note he had sent.
"I do not need to see you to feel your energy. You respond when I call. That means you are already connected to me. From today, when I speak, I want your full attention. When you answer, I want truth. No pretending. No playing. Only honesty."
The way he said honesty made her body tremble. It was not a demand, it was a promise.
Before sleeping, she sent a short message. Good night Sir. I will listen.
His reply came moments before midnight. "Good night, Lomile. Dream of the sound of my voice. It will remind you who you are becoming."
She placed the phone beside her pillow, her heart beating slower with each breath. She felt safe, seen, and strangely alive.
And that night, when she closed her eyes, she did not dream of the taxi or the road to Maseru. She dreamt of his voice. Deep, commanding, patient. The voice that was beginning to guide the rhythm of her days.