The sun hadn't fully risen when Mthunzi climbed into his car. The hills of KZN glimmered with early light, dew clinging to grass and leaves, but the beauty of the morning did nothing to ease the heaviness in his chest. The homestead faded behind him, Mazwide standing silently at the gate, her hand pressed lightly over her heart as if to shield him from what lay ahead.
He didn't look back. He couldn't. He started the engine, the roar of it filling the silence between them, a reminder that life moves forward even when your heart is stuck.
The first hour was quiet, the roads winding past fields and small villages, the smell of wet earth drifting through the partially open window. His mind, however, was anything but quiet.
How could he ask this of me? Of anyone?
Phenyo… what am I going to do with her? She won't understand… she'll never understand…
He gripped the steering wheel tighter. The anger coiled inside him, frustration twisting into every muscle. Why does it always have to be me? Why do I have to carry everyone else's sacrifices?
By the second hour, the emotional pressure became unbearable. He pulled off to the side of a quiet road, the vast fields stretching endlessly on either side. He screamed.
The sound tore from his chest, primal and raw. Tears escaped freely, running down his face. He forced himself to stop for a moment, to remember. I am a man. Men don't cry.
But he did cry. And in that brief release, he felt both lighter and more crushed than ever.
When he resumed driving, the scenery blurred , rolling hills, small farms, the occasional roadside stall ,but each landmark was just a reminder of the distance he had to travel, both in miles and in heart. Flashbacks clung to him like ghosts. He saw Qhawe's laughter, felt the weight of Mazwide's hands on his shoulders, remembered the stillness of his father's couch in KZN.
And now… this. This impossible choice.
By late afternoon, the skyline of Johannesburg emerged, the familiar towers of Hyde Park glinting in the sun. He had driven seven hours through anger, frustration, grief, and guilt, and the exhaustion pressed down like a physical weight.
He opened the apartment door to the familiar smell of dinner and warmth. "Hey, husband!" Phenyo's voice broke through the haze, bright and joyful. But Mthunzi had nothing to give her , just a faint, tired smile. She stepped closer, instinctively wrapping her arms around him. He leaned into her embrace, eyes closing.
He wanted to tell her everything. The tradition. The summons. The impossible demand. He wanted to collapse in her arms and let her take some of the weight. But he couldn't. Not tonight. Not like this.
"Are you okay?" she asked, brushing a strand of sweat from his face, feeling the tension coiled in his body.
"I'm fine," he said, forcing calm into his voice. "I just need a shower "
She looked at him, concern etched across her face, but didn't press. She knew the signs , the tight jaw, the rigid shoulders, the distance in his eyes. He moved to the shower, letting the hot water wash over him, trying to strip away KZN, tradition, obligation, and dread. But the water could not reach the weight pressing down from his father's words, the centuries of expectation, the shadow of a brother he could never replace.
The drive, the screaming, the grief ,it all remained lodged in his chest. His hands gripped the sink for balance. He tried to breathe, to convince himself he could endure this, that he could find a way around it, that he could protect the life he had built with Phenyo while still obeying his father's demands.
There has to be a way, he thought, eyes closed, chest tight. There has to be… a way to survive this without losing everything I love.
After the shower, he stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist. Phenyo had set the table; the apartment smelled of lamb shank, herbs, and comfort. She smiled when she saw him, expecting warmth, joy, the familiar ease of her husband. He offered her only a ghost of a smile, hollow but trying. She placed a hand on his arm.
"I made dinner," she said softly. "But you seem… far away."
"I just… I need some rest," he replied, lowering his gaze. "A long drive, that's all."
She nodded, though the unease lingered.
As they ate in silence, the city lights twinkling outside the window, Mthunzi felt the divide growing within him , between the life he had chosen and the life that had been chosen for him. Between duty and love. Between tradition and freedom. And he knew, deep down, that the coming days would demand more from him than he had ever imagined.