PROMISED TO HIM
CHAPTER 10
MAYIBUYE SMITH
It’s been a month. Today I’m doing something Roy would never expect — I’m going to see Gogo. He thinks he knows everything that happens in this house but I have outsmarted him on this one
I dressed light on purpose: pink sweatpants, a matching crop top, shades . At the mall I bought a one-way ticket to Durban. My hands shook as I signed for it, but the rush of air when the plane took off felt like theft — like I’d stolen time for myself.
Durban arrived warm and bright at 11 a.m. I stepped out and for a moment the sun looked like permission. I took a taxi the old-fashioned way, paid cash, and when I reached Gogo’s yard my heart began to hammer like a drum. The gate swung open and there she was — her presence filled the whole stoep. I dropped my bag, ran forward, and hugged her so hard she grunted in surprise.
“Mayi!” she said, and when I cried she only patted my back like I was still the child who used to hide under blankets during thunderstorms.
I kicked off my shoes, folding them by her door, and the smell of stewed potatoes and old wood wrapped around me and made me ache.
“Gogo, everything there is… hard,” I said, wiping my face. My voice cracked and I had to look away.
Gogo made me sit and face her properly. Her eyes were sharp as always.
“Mayi, do not forget the plan.” She tapped my knee with a single finger like a metronome.
“Smith must pay for what he did to your parents.”
My throat tightened. The name tasted like ash.
“I won’t forget.”
Gogo’s face softened then, but only for a second.
“Listen, child. That family did not lose your parents by accident. They set them up. They made sure no one would find them in time. You must gather every dirt on them. Make them eat from the palm of your hand.”
I let the anger rise.
Before I left she pressed a small cloth into my hand. Inside was a tiny carved bead and a scrap of fabric with a faded pattern.
“For remembering and for courage,” she said. I left her with Money
Back in the city I stopped at the mall again — this time I bought dresses, because appearances matter. If I was going to play the part Smith assumed I was — the helpless trophy wife, the pretty thing on his arm — then I would also play it with a purpose.
I bought things expensive enough to be noticed and ordinary enough not to scream suspicion. I told myself it was for the front, so he won’t notice I was out of province
The drive back felt longer than the trip out. I rehearsed conversations in my head, the spoonfuls of lies and truths I’d need to feed Roy
When I stepped in, Roy was already there, waiting. He sat at the kitchen table and his face was a tight line of patience. He didn’t even get up. He didn’t need to. He just sat and stared.
He went upstairs while I ate quickly — food tasted like cotton and coffee.
I told myself to be calm. It’s good when he leaves early and comes back at dawn; but gets upset if it me.mxm
I took a long bath when I went upstairs. Hot water slid down my back and washed off the embarrassment of being a liar for survival. By the time , I’d changed into long pyjamas.
Trust, I decided, is a luxury I can’t afford with this man. Safety, not style, right now.
My phone buzzed. Jayden’s name lit the screen. I almost ignored it, but then he rang again. I picked up and said hello.
“Hey, can I call you back? I’m busy,” I started.
Before I could finish, Roy snatched my phone from my hand and held it like a trophy. He put the call on speaker, his jaw tightening in a way that made my fingers go cold. Jayden’s voice filled the room — soft, earnest.
“I miss you,” Jayden said and the sound of him said more than the words.
Roy’s hand twitched. For a moment the world slowed. Then he threw the phone against the wall. It hit and shattered into a hundred useless black pieces. The sound was volcanic. For a second everything froze
“Is this man insane?” I mouthed silently to myself. The phone had cost him R49 000,
Roy moved to the balcony, lit another cigarette and watched the smoke curl up like a question. He didn’t speak for a long time. He didn’t need to. His silence was accusation and punishment wrapped into one.
I grabbed for my remaining phone
Gogo’s words looped in my head: gather every dirty on them. Make them eat from your palm. I thought of the little bead in my pocket and touched it like an anchor.
Roy came back inside finally, closing the door behind him as if that could be the last sound that mattered. He walked past me without touching.
I watched him, cataloguing his movements — where he put his keys, the way his shoulders sloped when he tried to make himself look smaller. He was also, in his ways, predictable. Predictable could be used.
That night I lay awake while the house breathed around me. I thought of deals and favors I signed with people who had a hand in my parents’ deaths. I need to find something
I am not weak. Gogo had reminded me of that earlier, in her raspy way. I am careful, and I am patient, and I have time when he thinks I have none.
If Smith thinks he can erase my past and buy my silence with luxury and isolation, he is very wrong. Tonight I would sleep with my plans on like armor. Tomorrow I would begin to stitch the first seams.