Chapter Three

-One Year Later-

It’s been a year since Sbu and I went out on our first date. I remember it like was just yesterday. We spent that entire afternoon talking and laughing, sharing quite a few moments. He drove me home and kissed me before he left. That kiss was all the confirmation I needed. A year later, Sbu and I are stronger than ever. Even though he has now graduated and primarily lives with his family in KZN, he comes to Jo’burg on weekends to see me and we maximise the time we have together. When he’s back home, we talk mostly on the phone and via text and when the signal is strong enough, we video call. I never thought I’d be 19-going-on-20 and in a long-distance relationship – a very stable one, at that. As for Nkosana, he and Katie are done. Turns out the relationship wasn’t really functioning in other areas. They hardly spoke, they had nothing in common – the entire thing was purely physical. He’s single now, I think. At least, he hasn’t brought anyone to the flat since September when he and Katie broke up. I must say, he was pretty upset about it. I think he really liked her, beyond the intimacy. Our parents, on the other hand, were overjoyed by Nkosana and Katie’s break up. His mom almost beat him up when she found out he bought lingerie for her, he was cut off financially for a month which made me the breadwinner in our flat. Those were tough times. Also, to get back at me for spilling his lingerie secret, Nkosana told our parents about my relationship with Sbu. He especially emphasised the part about Sbu spending some nights at our flat. I was never angry at him, he wanted to soften the blow on himself by diverting the attention. And of course, you know parents and their double standards, they completely forgot about Nkosana sleeping with my friend and focused all of their attention on me sleeping with his. The entire year my mom kept telling me that ‘once he got tired of me, he’d go find someone else and marry that girl – a girl with morals who doesn’t sleep around’. She slapped me once when I responded to her rant with a ‘that’s rich coming from someone who slept with a married man’. I deserved that slap. But we’re in a good place now. The family has even met Sbu – because they insisted – and he finally got to understand why Nkosana and I don’t have the same surname. Needless to say, he stopped calling me MaZwane and started calling me MaMnguni. That lunch was a success, the entire family liked him. I just don’t know if they’re going to like him much when they learn about the new developments in our relationship, the reason I asked him to come over this weekend because we needed to talk urgently. I wanted to tell Nkosana first but I thought he’d judge me. And I couldn’t trust Nonhle, either, because she lives at home and the information could spread much easier with her. So, I figured Sbu would be the best person to talk to. I asked Nkosana to make himself scarce because I didn’t need him eavesdropping. He does that, he’s like his mother.

“Baby, kwenzenjani? You seem stressed.” Sbu says, squeezing my hand. He always does that to comfort me. I can’t even look him in the eye right now because I don’t even know how he’s going to react.

“I have something to tell you… or rather, show you. But I need you to keep calm because I don’t want to attract the neighbours’ attention.” I say and he nods in agreement. I kept the two brown envelopes on the coffee table so I wouldn’t have to get up to go get them. I hand both of them to him and just sit there while he slowly opens the first one and reads it. He looks mortified. He puts it down and takes the second one. The look of terror intensifies. He then looks at both papers at the same time, as if to compare the two, I don’t know why. He takes about five minutes, not saying or doing anything. Just staring at the TV. Then he scratches his head, takes a deep breath and says, “I love you.”

I’m taken aback by this response so I just look at him. He takes my hand and kisses it. For some reason, tears start running down my cheeks. I look up at him and he looks terrified all over again. He’s never actually seen me cry. He wipes the tears away and kisses my forehead, holding me to his chest for a while until I stop crying.

“Bheka babe, on top of being the mother of my child, will you do me the honour of being my wife?”

“What?” is all I manage to say. I mean, I didn’t expect him to ask me to marry him. Aren’t we too young to get married? Besides, he doesn’t even have a job. Will he expect me to move to his family home in KZN? I don’t even stay at my family home in KZN.

“It was going to happen anyway. I was always going to wife you, it’s just that it has to happen sooner.” How can he be so casual about this? This is a big deal. Will my parents even allow this?

“Sthandwa sam… don’t you want to be my wife?” he suddenly looks hurt.

“Kodwa Sibusiso, you don’t even have a job. How are we going to take care of this baby?”

“Don’t worry about that. Just trust me when I say I will take very good care of you and our baby. And the many more babies we’ll have after this one.” He says and I can’t help but laugh. I suddenly feel so secure. “There’s that smile. So, can I go ahead and ask my uncles to write a letter?”

“Uhm… yeah. I think it’s the best decision.” I say. He then takes out his phone and places an order for dinner for Nkosana and me before telling me that he’s going to get a head start on his drive back home. We agreed that we want this done quickly, before I start showing if possible. My task now is to tell my family. Once he’s gone, I find myself staring at the two pieces of paper on the coffee table. I had to go to two different doctors just make sure. And I had to use cash because I couldn’t risk these tests reflecting on the medical aid records. I wanted to be able to tell my family myself, not for them to see it on a statement. How could I have been so reckless, though? A random guy shows some interest in me and I give him everything. The essence of my being. I get that he’s not rejecting me or this pregnancy and he wants to marry me, but I don’t think any of that will make a difference to my family. I just have to be strong… I think I’ll tell them tomorrow. No, on Monday. Monday is a good day. Or maybe, I’ll tell them next weekend. Yes, that’s better. Then I can go home and talk to them properly. That’s the right thing to do, I think…

*****

8am Sunday morning and I am awakened by loud banging on the door. It seems like I fell asleep on the couch and Nkosana put a blanket over me. Wait, if I fell asleep on the couch it means I left everything as it was after Sbu left. No! I quickly look at the coffee table – the banging is continuous and now my mother is screaming my name. The papers aren’t there. Nkosana found my pregnancy test results. He probably called my mother. Oh, dammit! I’m sitting on the couch, panicking. The knocking has faded into the background now because my head is spinning. A very drowsy Nkosana walks out of his bedroom and asks me why I’m ignoring the person at the door.

“Nkosana… did you call my mom?” I ask him, my voice shaking. And suddenly he’s wide awake, alluding to the fact that he did find the pregnancy tests results.

“No, no I didn’t. I promise. I didn’t tell anyone.” He says. “Let’s just open the door, maybe she’s here for another reason.” He walks over to the door and I quickly run to my room and pretend to be asleep.

“Mamncane, Bab’omkhulu. What brings you here so early in the morning?” I hear Nkosana say after he opens the door. Great, so both my mom and my dad are here.

“Nkosana, ukuphi uNtandokazi?” my mom asks and I can already hear footsteps in the living room. I just know that in a few minutes she’ll be barging into my room, so I harden my eyes… almost in an effort to convince myself that I’m asleep.

“Ntando!” my dad snaps and I jump up, what a waste of great acting. He’s standing next to the bed, kind of weighing down on me.

“Baba?” I rub my eyes, trying to keep the just-woke-up façade going

“Usheshe ulunge, we’re going home.” He says.

“Kodwa Baba, I still have class tomorrow.” I say. I know it makes no difference, I can Uber to campus from both homes.

“Nawe Nkosana. We’re leaving in 30 minutes. Get a move on!” he speaks with such authority. I just wonder what it is… I mean, if Nkosana didn’t tell them about the pregnancy then there’s no way they could possibly know. So, what is it that could be so urgent? What is it that could make my father wake up on a Sunday morning and come fetch me – fetch us?

We’re sitting in the lounge at the family home in Sandhurst. I have been made to sit alone on the single-seater, a convenient arrangement because now everyone is looking directly at me from where they’re sitting. To my left, there’s my mother and my father and to my right, Nkosana and his parents. Nonhle is at church, I think. She’s the only religious one, Mamkhulu says she takes after her great-grandmother. Nobody has said a word to me yet, but I already know what’s coming. My mother takes out a brown envelope and out of it comes a white sheet of paper. My heart skips a beat, is it possible that that’s one of my test results? Would Nkosana do me in like that? I quickly look at him and he shrugs. I choose to remain quiet before I sell myself out.

“Yini le?” my mother asks.

“I don’t know, what is it?” I ask. I genuinely would like to know.

“Arg, Nokulunga, she’s just going to act dumb. Ntandokazi, are you willing to throw your future away just like that?” Mamkhulu asks me. “For a boy? Does he even have a job? Does he have a plan? A stable one? Why couldn’t you just stop seeing him, for goodness sake?”

I am now certain that they know about the pregnancy. Mamkhulu doesn’t usually get involved when my parents are disciplining me, I think as a form of respect to my mother. So, if she’s butting in I know it’s bad. Still, I choose to remain silent. What am I even going to say? It’s true, Sbu doesn’t have a job. I’ve dug a hole so deep that I cannot even see the light anymore.

“Do you have nothing to say for yourself?” my dad asks and all I can do is take a deep breath.

“Well, I have something to say. It’s not happening. We will not allow it!” Mamkhulu says as she sits back on the couch and folds her arms. She does this when she’s bored. She sits there and looks like she’s not even in the same room as everyone. But she can’t be serious. She can’t expect me to abort my baby, there could be serious consequences.

“What?” I ask. “You can’t do that.”

“Excuse me? Yes we can, we are your parents. Our word is final.” My dad says. I’m shaking. I’m not one to challenge my dad but this is my body, there could be serious consequences.

“Cha, Baba, I’m an adult. I can make my own decisions.” I say, voice shaking.

“Oh, excuse me Miss Adult. When you and your unemployed boyfriend decide to get married, who the hell is going to finance your life? Are you going to call your mom every time you need food? Where are you even going to live? With his parents in KZN? Really? Use your freaking head, Ntandokazi, you are not getting married to that boy! Focus on your studies, uhlukane nabafana!” he snaps. My father hardly ever raises his voice, so to say that I am shaken right now would be an understatement. He gets up and is about to leave but then he turns around and looks me in the eye and says, “Uzuphinde uphikisane nami, Ntandokazi…” then he leaves. That was intense. Once my head stops spinning, I realise that they only spoke about marriage. Nobody mentioned a baby. So, they don’t know. What the heck is going on then? Too afraid to speak, I get off the couch and reach for the paper on top of the envelope. My eyes bulge as I read it. It’s a letter from Sibusiso’s family asking for my hand in marriage, asking my family to pick a date for the lobola negotiations. How on earth did they manage to send this letter so quickly? I mean, Sbu probably only got home at around 10pm after I spoke to him yesterday, yet my parents got this letter early enough for them to attack me at 8am today? It doesn’t make sense.

“Ma, when did you get this letter?” I ask, speaking rather softly.

“This morning at 7o’clock, some young man came to deliver it. It doesn’t matter, anyway because you’re not getting married. You can tell that boyfriend of yours to go look for a job while you focus on your studies.” She says.

I sit for a moment to think this through. My parents don’t want me to get married but I need to because I’m pregnant. If this is their reaction towards me possibly getting married, imagine how they’ll react when they find out that I’m pregnant. I can’t let that happen.

“Ma… Mamkhulu… ngiyacela bandla, ngicela ningikhulumela noBaba.” I say.

“Yoh, Trevor let’s go. This girl is going to drive me up the wall.” Mamkhulu says, reaching for her bag. Nkosana gets up and follows his parents. I can’t say I blame him, the tension in this room is suffocating.

“For ini, Ntandokazi? You are too young to get married.” My mother says, she’s so drained.

“But Sbu and I are in love, Mama. And uthe he’ll take care of me.”

“And your studies?”

“Ma, being married doesn’t mean I can’t continue with my studies.”

“Oh, but it does. Especially when you’re married to a man who lives in some village in KZN. Ngisho mina engakhulela eNatal angiyazi indawo okuthiwa kuseMabomvini, which tells you just how much of a remote village it is. You, who cannot stand being in KwaMashu which is a township, are you suddenly willing to go shack up in a village? Ungazo dakwa la, Ntandokazi.”

We sit in silence for a while until she gets up and leaves me sitting there alone. This is bad. I sit there and study the letter from Sbu’s family. There’s a stamp on the top left corner: Ubukhosi baseMabomvini. Wow, they don’t even have a post office, they had to get a stamp from the chief. I need a miracle to get out of this one. Sbu’s phone rings three times before he picks up.

“MaMnguni, sawubona.” He says. He sounds so cheerful, so happy. I suppose things are going well on his side.

“Sibusiso, things are not looking up.” I say.

“What’s wrong?”

“My family won’t let us get married.”

“Even though you’re pregnant? Bafuna inhlawulo?”

“Yeah, that’s the thing… I didn’t tell them. I couldn’t. They already overreacted because of the letter, I didn’t know how they’d react if I told them.”

There’s silence for a while and I check the screen to make sure he hasn’t hung up. He hasn’t.

“Ntando, you have to tell them. My family wants to do right by the child, it’s important. And I want to do right by you, my love.”

“Why is your family so happy about this child?” I ask, deliberately lowering my voice at the word child.

“Because, uyigazi lethu. We’re very big on family. And you, as the mother of my child and the love of my life, are family. I want to marry you, not just because you’re pregnant. But now is the right time to do it, my love. Please tell your family.”

My life is such a mess and, yet I still have reason to consider myself lucky. So, what if Sbu’s family is not wealthy and they live in some remote village, deep in KZN? That doesn’t matter. They’ll love me and my baby and they’ll take care of us. They’re very big on family. Sbu and I say our goodbyes and once again, I’m left sitting alone in the deafening silence of the empty living room. There’s only one person who I can talk to about this who won’t judge me. The phone rings twice.

“Hello, Ntando.” She says.

“Can I come to your house? There’s something I need to tell you.”

The Uber ride to Aunt Gontse’s house took 35 minutes. 35 long minutes that I spent trying to plan how I was going to break the news. I’ve known for about a week now but having to tell other people is a bit much. I just know she’s not going to judge me, she never does.

“So, angel, what is it that is so urgent and has you looking so pale?” she asks as she hands me a glass of orange juice and joins me on the couch.

“Mamncane, I screwed up big time.”

“Because Sibusiso wants to marry you? I think it’s sweet that he wants to marry you and I am in full support of your relationship but I don’t think you’re ready for marriage. Both of you. Just because he has graduated, doesn’t mean he is stable enough to start a new life.” She says in between sips. She’s so calm about this. Hey, I get it, we’re both unemployed. But Sbu said he’d take care of me and I believe him. I believe he’s got a plan.

“The thing is… I’m pregnant.” I say and she chokes on her juice.

“You’re what?” she’s still not screaming, though, thank God.

“And Sbu is very happy and his family is happy. He wants to take care of me and the baby. We’re going to live happily together, he loves me. I just know it.”

“How far along are you, nana?” she asks.

“Three weeks.”

We sit in silence for a while, sipping orange juice. I think she’s trying to figure out why I came to her and how I expect her to help me.

“Hello, ladies.” I turn around to see Uncle Malcolm, Mamncane’s husband. He likes it when we call him Bab’omncane – I think it makes him forget that he’s the only white person in the family. He kisses Aunt Gontse on the forehead and comes over to give me a hug. Uncle Malcolm gives the best hugs. I think it’s because he’s the most affectionate person in the family, he understands what hugs are for.

“Bab’omncane.” I say, mid-hug.

“How are you, Ntando?” he asks.

“I’ve seen better days.” I say and he raises his eyebrows. He looks at Aunt Gontse and realises that we were in the middle of something important. He takes a sip of Mamncane’s orange juice before excusing himself and heading upstairs.

“What do you need me to do?” she asks when we’re alone again.

“Please speak to my parents for me… tell them everything. I can’t bring myself to do it.”

She takes a deep breath. I know it’s a lot to ask but she’s really the best option I had. I couldn’t ask Nkosana’s mom, she was already part of the crucifixion gang. I couldn’t ask Nkosana to tell them, they’d bite his head off just as much as they’d bite mine. Aunt Gontse is the best person for the job.

“Okay look. How about I take you back to your flat, you focus on your schoolwork and give me the week to work on your parents.” She says eventually. I let out a loud sigh of relief, I knew I could count on her. She’s literally the coolest aunt in the world.

We stopped in Bedfordview to pick Nkosana up and then we had lunch at Eastgate. We kept the conversation light, not letting Nkosana in on our plan. It’s not that we couldn’t trust him, I just think Aunt Gontse wanted to avoid the topic as much as possible for the time being. I, on the other hand, saw this as a welcome distraction. Once we got to the flat, Nkosana went straight to his room. I felt awful for putting him in the middle of my mess. That’s the issue with Nkosana and I, we stress each other out because we care so much about each other. And also because we’re always in each other’s space. I knock on his door and then stick my head in.

“Nkosana, I’m sorry.” I say softly.

“It’s been a long day, Ntando…” he buries his face in his pillow.

“I promise I’ll fix it. We’ll have a happy ending, I promise.” I’m trying to convince myself, really. I’m trying to assure myself that Aunt Gontse will get through to my parents and they’ll allow Sbu to marry me and Sbu will keep his promise to take care of me and our baby. I’m trying to convince myself that I’m not making the biggest mistake of my life… that I didn’t make the biggest mistake of my life when I allowed Sbu into my personal space, to have all of me… was I wrong? Should I have waited for marriage before giving myself to Sbu? Is he really going to take care of me? I only realise that I started crying when I feel Nkosana’s arms around me.

“You’re gonna be okay, Sis…” is all he says. It’s all he can say, really. “Whatever happens, I’ve got your back. You’re my sister, I will never let you suffer.”

“Thank you…” I say as I wipe the tears away. “I just don’t know if I’m doing the right thing.”

“You’ll never know, Sis. Just do what feels right for you and I’ll support you. I mean, it’s noble… what he’s trying to do. Not many guys own up like this.” He says. We don’t often get this mushy, Nkosana and I, but I appreciate him. I appreciate his support and his presence in general.

“You know, if I had known that Sbu was gonna knock you up, I wouldn’t have brought him over here that day.” He says and I laugh. That is when it started, isn’t it? That day when he asked me to cook for them. The audacity. I guess he always saw me as his wife. I can’t help but laugh at the thought.

“Bheka, freshen up and I’ll call your friends and my friends and have them over for dinner and some movies. How about that?” Nkosana says. I agree reluctantly as I make my way to my room. I’m not really in the mood for company but maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe it’s just what I need. Lord knows how grateful I am for Nkosana. Blood or no blood, he’s my brother and I couldn’t have asked for a better one.

*****

It’s Wednesday already and I haven’t heard anything from Aunt Gontse. I’ve been checking my phone for SMS’s, WhatsApp messages, missed calls, voice messages and even call backs. Nothing. At all. But then again, she did ask me to give her the week to get it done. Maybe she’s still working on them.

“You okay?” Thuto asks me, giving me a fright.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” I say.

“You don’t look fine, you’ve been jumpy the whole week. And you keep checking your phone every two minutes, is it your boyfriend? Trouble in paradise?”

“Geez, Thuto, I said I’m fine. Can you drop it.” I snap.

“Relax, Ntando, we’re just worried about you.” Katie says. Thuto gets up and sits on the opposite side, I can’t say I blame him. I really shouldn’t snap at him, he means well. I just can’t tell anyone anything yet. At least not until I’ve got confirmation from Aunt Gontse. We sit and eat in awkward silence for a while, I think nobody knows how to break the ice right now so we’re all just sitting there.

“Hey… isn’t that your stepdad?” Katie asks. I look up and follow her eyes. No. Way. Why is Nkosana’s father here on campus and why is he walking towards me?

“Ooh, Katie your ex-father-in-law is all sorts of yummy.” Litha says. She’s disgusting. I mean, we know she’s a few years older than us but she’s still too young to be crushing on our dads. She says this every time she sees Nkosana’s dad. First it was last year when I invited them to Nonhle’s sweet 16 and then again when they came over for my birthday dinner and again this year at the end of Jan when they came for Nkosana’s birthday party. It was a little awkward then because Katie and Nkosana had broken up but I think they handled themselves pretty well.

“Sanibonani.” Nkosana’s dad says when he reaches the table.

“Sawubona, Bab’uZwane. Uyaphila kodwa?” Litha says, with an extra large smile. I look at her with a frown and she completely ignores me. Everyone else returns the greeting like normal human beings who aren’t flirting with their friend’s stepdad.

“Ntando, I’m here to pick you up. You are needed at home.” He says very calmly, with a smile even. I know better than to be fooled by his smile, though. I know very well that I’ll be leaving the peace and serenity that is campus and going into a warzone.

“Bab’omncane, I still have class.” I say.

“I wouldn’t have driven all the way from work if it wasn’t important. I’m sure your friends here will send you notes or something.” he says, still very calmly with a smile. My friends are obviously very quick to oblige.

“That settles it, then.” He says, taking hold of my bag. “I’ll see you kids around.”

We walk in awkward silence. Usually Nkosana’s dad and I get along very well, even better than I get along with my own father. But today the tension is rife!

“It’s not the end of the world, you know?” he eventually says when we get into the car. I found Nkosana sitting comfortably in the front seat of his father’s Lamborghini. I don’t know why they keep dragging him into my mess, really, he doesn’t have to miss class because of me.

“Bab’omncane, Nkosana doesn’t really have to come with us. I mean, he’s also got class to attend.” I say.

“Thanks, Sis, but the mighty Kgomotso Mnguni-Zwane has summoned me to headquarters. I don’t have much of a choice.” Nkosana says sombrely. We refer to the house in Bedfordview as headquarters because that’s where Mamkhulu lives primarily and that’s where most family meetings happen… because she’s usually the decision-maker, what she says often goes.

“Hey, I agree that this isn’t ideal but you don’t get to speak disrespectfully about my wife. Respect your mother even in her absence.” His dad says. I’ve always admired Nkosana’s dad. On top of being a top class lawyer and businessman, he’s also a very devoted family man. He is very quick to come to his wife’s defence – not that she needs it but he’s always there… I hope Sibusiso is like that when I’m his wife. Whether that happens now or later is immaterial, the point is I know that one day I’ll be Mrs Ntandokazi Ngubane, the mother of Sibusiso Ngubane’s child or children. He did say I’d be the mother of his many other children. Oh, isthandwa sam kodwa. I just wonder what my family has planned, I don’t think they know what’s coming their way. The ride from Braamfontein to Bedfordview is very quick, thanks to the midday traffic – or a lack thereof. I walk into the house and find my parents, Nkosana’s mom and Aunt Gontse sitting having a delightful conversation in the lounge.

“Sanibonani.” I say when I walk in but I remain standing in the doorway, not really sure of what to do next. The laughter that was filling the house just a few minutes ago dies down suddenly and the mood turns sour.

“Hi, Ntando.” Aunt Gontse says. “Come sit.”

I make my way to the couch closest to Aunt Gontse and furthest from my mother. She’s not even looking at me – my mother, that is. I probably disgust her now. A few moments later, we are joined by Nkosana and his dad who look like they’ve been having quite a heated argument.

“Sanibonani.” Nkosana says when he gets in. He joins me on the two-seater couch and we sit in full view of the adults. His dad sits on the arm rest next to his wife.

“Everything makes sense now… the sudden marriage proposal, he thinks he’s doing the right thing –“ Mamkhulu starts speaking but my mother interrupts her.

“I will lead this discussion, Kgomotso, she’s my child!” she snaps and Mamkhulu gives her the side eye. Unnecessary much? We all know that Mamkhulu is the matriarch of this family, she leads everything. Nkosana’s dad immediately puts his arm around Mamkhulu. See? That right there, that’s a husband and a half.

“You stupid girl,” my mother starts, looking me in the eye.

“Nokulunga…” my dad interjects, trying to keep the discussion calm but my mother will have none of it. Instead now she’s walking towards me, pointing a finger at me. She’s walking so slowly, it’s creepy.

“You slept with that boy and you were too stupid to protect yourself!” she says.

“Nokulunga, this is not meant to be an attack.” My dad says, but still she continues.

“Then to top it all off, you run and tell Gontse. Gontse! Not even your own mother.” She says, now she’s in my face and I’m doing the best I can to avoid eye contact.

“It’s really not a competition.” Mamkhulu says, sounding bored. I’m glad to see the Nazis turning against each other, it’ll make my participation much easier.

“I have a newsflash for you, Ntandokazi, you are not a Molemo. You are not related to Kgomotso and Gontse. They are not your family. How dare you keep this from me? What did you think? If you got the rich ones on your side, they’d fund your foolishness?” she snaps, really spitting in my face now and I cannot hide the disgust.

“That’s enough!” My father says, pulling his hysterical second wife away from me. I slowly wipe the droplets of spit away and sit up again. I’m so tired of feeling bad about this, really, people get pregnant – it’s life, let’s move on!

“I think we can agree that Nokulunga went about this the wrong way. Not to say that we’re proud of your actions, Ntandokazi, kodwa there are ways of addressing such matters.” Nkosana’s dad, the articulate attorney, says while my dad calms my mom down.

“Look, it’s pointless for us to shout at you for being pregnant. You’re already pregnant, hurling insults at you changes nothing. We just need to know if you’ve sat and consciously thought about this, the implications of pregnancy and what you’re going to do.” Mamkhulu says. I sit there quietly, with my arms folded until she hardens her look.

“Oh, can I speak now?” I ask, pushing her over the edge.

“Hey, drop the sass.” She says, with a stern tone. I shift in my seat and apologise. “What’s your plan?”

“I’ve already accepted Sbu’s marriage proposal. We’ll take it from there.” I say.

“Oh, Nkosi yami.” My mother says, burying her face in her hands. “I give up.” She gets up and exits the living room.

“Okay, S’phiwe you have the final say.” Mamkhulu says to my dad.

“I say we meet with this boy’s family and come to a conclusion together. There’s a baby in the picture now… we just have to make this work.” He says. I feel a tiny smile forming and I know that this is the beginning of the next phase of my life