BECOMING
CHAPTER 26
ZINZI
The call disconnects and I just sit there on the edge of my bed, phone still warm in my palm, staring at the dark screen like it might light up again with more good news. Chulumanco’s voice is still echoing in my ears—soft, a little shaky, but so full of quiet joy it makes my own chest feel too small to hold everything I’m feeling. “We’re together, Zinzi. Officially. Me and Mesuli. It’s real now.” I can picture her face while she said it: eyes shining, that small, almost-shy smile she gets when something good finally feels safe enough to hold onto.
I lower the phone slowly. My cheeks ache. I’m smiling so wide it feels like my face might split. I laugh out loud—quiet, disbelieving, pure joy and flop backwards onto the mattress, arms spread wide like I’m trying to hug the whole ceiling. My braids fan out around my head on the duvet. I stare up at the familiar water stain in the corner that’s been there since I was twelve and think: Finally.
She deserves this.
Chulumanco Msutu—my best friend, the girl who carried a whole child and a broken mother and a village full of whispers on her back for five years—deserves this happiness so badly it feels like justice. I’ve watched her survive on scraps of hope and stubbornness. I’ve watched her smile through exhaustion, pack Hazel orders at two in the morning while Kungawo slept on her lap, cry silently in the bathroom when she thought no one could hear. I’ve watched her build something beautiful out of nothing, and now—now—she gets to be loved properly. By my brother. By the man who spent months being terrified of his own feelings until she finally told him she was tired of waiting.
I roll onto my side, hug a pillow to my chest, and let out another quiet laugh.
They’re together.
Officially.
A family of three, no more pretending, no more tiptoeing around what everyone could already see.
The bedroom door creaks open. Mama sticks her head in, one eyebrow already raised.
“Zinzi, why are you grinning like a cat that swallowed the cream?”
I sit up fast, still smiling so hard my cheeks burn. “Mama! You won’t believe it.”
She steps inside, closes the door softly behind her. She’s still in her house dress, the floral one with the pockets she always keeps peppermints in, her hair is wrapped in a scarf. She sits on the edge of my bed, hands folded in her lap, waiting.
I take a breath, trying to slow my words so they come out properly.
“Bhuti Mesuli and Chulumanco… they’re together. Officially. Dating. A couple. Whatever you want to call it. Chulu said it happened over the weekend. She just called me. She sounded so happy, Mama. Like she could finally breathe.”
Mama’s eyes widen. Then her whole face lights up—slow at first, then all at once, like someone turned on every lamp in the house. She claps both hands together once, sharp and delighted.
“Hayi! Finally!”
She laughs—a full, rich sound that fills the room—and reaches over to squeeze my knee. “I knew it. I told your father months ago, ‘That boy is in love and he’s too stubborn to admit it.’ And now look! Chulumanco and Mesuli. They are dating.”
I nod, grinning so wide my jaw aches.
Mama’s eyes soften. She reaches up and brushes a braid off my forehead.
“That child deserves every bit of this joy. She’s carried too much for too long. And Mesuli… my firstborn has always been too serious, too careful. But Chulumanco—she’s good for him. She makes him soft in the right places.”
I laugh. “She does. And he makes her feel safe. Really safe. Not just for Kungawo, but for her.”
Mama nods, eyes shining. “I can’t wait to start planning a wedding.”
I choke on a laugh. “Mama! Slow down! They’ve just started dating. Like… officially together for two days.”
She waves her hand like she’s swatting away a fly. “Two days, two months, two years—it doesn’t matter. When you know, you know. And I’ve known since the day she walked into this yard with that little boy on her hip and Mesuli couldn’t stop staring. The ancestors have been whispering this match for months. Now it’s time to listen.”
I shake my head, still smiling. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re smiling ear to ear,” she counters. “You’re just as excited as I am.”
I don’t deny it. I am. I’m so excited for them I could burst. Chulumanco has been my sister in every way that matters since the day we met in high school—quiet, fierce, always putting everyone else first. Watching her finally let herself be loved feels like justice.
Mama stands, smooths her dress. “I’m going to call your father. He needs to hear this. And then we need to start thinking about lobola. Not tomorrow—maybe next month—but we need to be ready.”
I laugh again. “Mama, please. Let them have one week before you start talking about iinkomo.”
She gives me that look—the one that says she’s already planning the menu for the engagement party—and leaves the room humming an old hymn under her breath.
I fall back onto the bed again. Stare at the ceiling. The water stain is still there, same shape it’s always been. But everything else feels new.
They’re together.
Chulumanco and Mesuli.
My best friend and my big brother.
A family.
My smile fades slowly. Not because I’m unhappy, God, I’m so happy for them, but because the quiet that follows lets other thoughts creep in.
I roll onto my side. Hug the pillow tighter.
My own heart has been doing the same thing for years. Beating too loud whenever he walks into a room. Skipping when he smiles at me. Aching when he leaves.
Monwabisi.
Mesuli’s best friend since college days. The man who’s been part of our family for so long he feels like blood. The man who still calls me “little sis” even though I’m twenty-eight and he’s thirty-two. The man who looks at me sometimes like he sees everything I’m trying to hide, and then looks away because he thinks he shouldn’t.
I’ve loved him quietly for so long it’s become background noise. A hum I’ve learned to live with. I’ve heard Mesuli and him talk about other women and I’d secretly be jealous. I’ve prayed to God that he remains single until I’m ready for him. That’s not right, I know, but I can’t bear the thought of him being in a serious relationship with another woman. I’m still praying that he remains single.
Mesuli would lose his mind if he knew how I felt about his best friend.
Not literally, but he’d see it as betrayal. His best friend and his little sister? It would end the friendship. It would end everything.
And I’m scared.
Scared of losing Mesuli’s trust. Scared of losing Monwabisi if he doesn’t feel the same. Scared of being the reason a solid friendship fractures.
So I stay quiet.
I keep things safe.
But watching Chulumanco and Mesuli finally come together, watching her be brave enough to speak her feelings, watching him finally stop running, it makes my own silence feel heavier.
Will I ever be brave enough?
Will I ever walk up to Monwabisi and say, “I’ve loved you since the day Mesuli came with you home?”
Will I ever risk it?
Or will I keep smiling, keep calling him “bhuti,” keep pretending the ache in my chest is just heartburn?
Maybe one day I’ll be brave enough to follow it.
Maybe one day I’ll stop hiding.
But not today.
Today I’m just happy for my best friend and my brother.
**
MESULI
It’s in the afternoon and I’m at the office. Even though I’m here, mind is not. I’m still thinking about how this past weekend turned out. It was so unexpected but so welcome. Chulumanco and I ended up spending Saturday night in my bedroom. We didn’t go further than kissing. But the kisses were deep and arousing.
On Sunday, we spent the whole day inside the house. Kungawo was probably wondering what changed between his parents. Why were they suddenly so lovey dovey. We really couldn’t get our hands off each other.
Now it’s Monday. Day two of being officially together. A family of three, not just co-parents sharing a roof. The knowledge sits in my chest like sunlight—warm, steady, real. I can already picture her as my wife, more kids running through the house, Kungawo with siblings, her belly round again, her laughing in the kitchen while I burn dinner. I see all of it. And it’s so close I can taste it.
But there’s still Zola Skhosana.
The thought of him makes my jaw clench so hard I taste metal. Men like Zola don’t stop. They just move on to the next woman who doesn’t know better. The next one who’s new in the city, trusting, open. If I do nothing, he’ll repeat it. Someone else will get hurt. Maybe worse.
Killing him is out of the question. I’m not that man. His children don’t deserve to grow up without a father, even if he’s a shitty one. But he can’t keep doing this. He needs to be stopped—permanently scared off, broken enough that he never tries again.
I stand and walk down the corridor to Monwabisi’s office. His door is half-open. I knock once and push it wider.
He’s leaning back in his chair, feet up on the desk, scrolling through his phone. He sees me, grins, swings his legs down.
“Ndoda. You look like you’re about to commit murder.”
“Close,” I say, closing the door behind me.
He raises an eyebrow. Motions to the chair opposite.
I sit.
“Zola Skhosana,” I start. “He tried it with Chulumanco Saturday night. Fortunately, she was able to stand up for herself. But he’s still out there. Still working at Pulse, a place that a lot of women frequent. He is probably hunting his next victim as we speak.”
Monwabisi nods slowly. “So, what do we do?”
“I want him stopped,” I say. “Not killed. His kids don’t deserve that. But he needs to understand that what he does has consequences. Real and permanent ones. And his gym, his pride and joy, needs to suffer too. We could start a fire or vandalise it. Something that hits him where it hurts most.”
Monwabisi studies me for a long moment.
“You sure about this?” he asks quietly. “Once we make the call, it’s done. No take-backs.”
“I’m sure.”
He exhales through his nose. “Okay. We’ll use Vusi. Same guy from the supplier dispute last year. He’s discreet. He doesn’t ask questions. He just delivers.”
I nod.
Monwabisi picks up his phone, scrolls, finds the number and puts it on speaker.
It rings twice.
“Boss,” Vusi’s voice comes through, it’s deep, gravelly and calm.
“Vusi,” Monwabisi says. “We need something handled. Tonight. When he clocks off.”
“Give me the name, location and instructions.”
“Zola Skhosana. Trainer and owner at Pulse Fitness, Waterfront branch. He finishes around 9 p.m. on weekdays. We want him scared. Badly. Broken enough that he never repeats his behaviour. Don’t kill him. No permanent disability. But he must feel pain. He must fear for his life. And his gym—after hours, when it’s empty. Smash the equipment. Start a small fire in the back office. Enough damage to cost him. No fatalities. And make sure there are no witnesses.”
Vusi is quiet for a second. “Payment?”
“Same as last time. Half upfront, half after the damage is done.”
“Consider it done, boss.”
The call ends.
Monwabisi sets the phone down. Looks at me.
“It’s in motion.”
I nod. My stomach twists, but not with regret. With certainty.
He leans forward, elbows on the desk. “Now talk to me. You were smiling like you won the lottery and lost your dog at the same time. What’s going on?”
I exhale slowly. Lean back in the chair.
“Chulumanco and I have made things official,” I say. “We are not just co-parenting, not just living under the same roof. We are together, together. We spent the whole weekend locked in. Just us and Kungawo. Talking. Laughing. Letting it build slow.”
Monwabisi’s grin spreads wide. “Look at you. Family man and all.”
I laugh at that. “Yeah. I can already see it. Her as my wife. More kids. A house full of noise and love. Kungawo with siblings. Her belly round again. Her laughing in the kitchen while I burn dinner. I see all of it. And it’s so close I can taste it.”
He leans back, arms crossed, eyes twinkling. “Day two and you’re already planning the wedding? Slow down, Romeo. You sure you’re not moving too fast?”
I shake my head. “It doesn’t feel fast. It feels like I’ve been waiting my whole life for this. Four months ago, I didn’t even know she existed. Now two days into dating, I can’t imagine a day without her in it. Without both of them in it.”
Monwabisi whistles low. “Damn. That’s deep. So, what changed? Last week, you were still dodging her like she was radioactive. Now you’re locked in for the weekend?”
I rub the back of my neck. “She got tired of waiting. Called me out. Said she’s not shrinking anymore. She’s going to be happy. She’s going to live. And if I can’t step up, that’s on me. So, I stepped up. Finally. And now… now it’s real.”
He laughs, loud, delighted. “She made the first move?”
“Technically, I was the one who made the first move, I confessed my feelings to her first, I just didn’t wait for her to tell me how she felt.”
Monwabisi slaps the desk once, grinning. “You dog. She had to drag you across the finish line.”
I smile despite myself. “Pretty much.”
He nods, serious now. “Good. Hold on to that. Because once Vusi does what he’s doing tonight, Zola’s out of the picture. But you’ve got to keep showing up for her. Every day. No more fear. No more running.”
“I won’t.”
A knock on the door.
Inga steps in without waiting for an answer. Tight pencil skirt, white blouse unbuttoned one too many, red lipstick sharp as a blade. She carries a stack of documents.
“Morning, gentlemen,” she says, voice honey-sweet. “Monwabisi, these need your signature before the end of day.”
Monwabisi takes the papers. Starts scanning.
Inga’s eyes slide to me.
“Mesuli,” she says. “I’ve been trying to call you.”
I meet her gaze. Steady. “I prefer emails for work related stuff.”
She smiles and says. “It’s not work-related. It’s personal.”
I don’t smile back. “We don’t have anything personal to talk about.”
Her smile falters, just a fraction. Then hardens.
“You should answer when I call tonight,” she says. “We do have something to discuss.”
She turns and leaves. Hips swaying. Door clicks shut behind her.
Monwabisi looks up from the papers.
“You slept with her, didn’t you?”
I exhale. “Once.”
He whistles low. “You better solve that before it becomes a problem in your new relationship.”
“I will,” I say. “Now that I’m finally with Chulumanco, nothing is coming between us.”
He nods.
“Good. Because you’ve got a woman worth keeping. And a son who needs both of you whole.”
I stand.
“I know.”
*********