{"id":18979,"date":"2026-01-23T13:51:27","date_gmt":"2026-01-23T13:51:27","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/?p=18979"},"modified":"2026-01-23T13:51:27","modified_gmt":"2026-01-23T13:51:27","slug":"void-novel-chapter-5","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/void-novel-chapter-5\/","title":{"rendered":"VOID Novel Chapter 5"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n
VOID<\/div>\n
\u00a92026 Sanelisiwe Ndlovu Hoko<\/div>\n
CHAPTER FIVE<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
SINENHLANHLA<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
My phone rings. I shove it deeper under the pillow. I need more sleep. I slept late last night. It\u2019ll take time for me to get used to the hard floor. My spine aches. Sharing a blanket with Kayise is torture. She kicks in her sleep and splays her legs like she owns the whole space.<\/div>\n
Lihle hasn\u2019t been out of my mind since the past two days I met her. Just thinking about her makes my jaw clench. The memory of walking to school with torn shoes, soles flapping like wings, flares hot behind my eyes. No Christmas clothes, using rags as pads because there was no money for anything else. Each memory is a spark. Together, they\u2019re a fire.<\/div>\n
Siphokazi told me not to tell Kayise about Lihle. But with this rage in me, I\u2019m tempted. Kayise loves fights. If she finds out Lihle\u2019s here, spinning lies about \u2018searching for us for twenty years,\u2019 it will end with someone in hospital and the other in handcuffs.<\/div>\n
The phone rings again. Kayise jabs my ribs. \u201cI can\u2019t be deprived of sleep by your phone. If you don\u2019t want your boyfriend, block him. Simple.\u201d<\/div>\n
She\u2019s stopped crying about her money. But she still mopes around the yard all day. I don\u2019t know if she\u2019s run out of energy\u2026 or clients.<\/div>\n
\u201cWho said it\u2019s a boyfriend?\u201d I mutter, fishing the phone out from under the pillow.<\/div>\n
I freeze.<\/div>\n
\u201cSiphokazi,\u201d I whisper, staring at the screen.<\/div>\n
\u201cSiphokazi, your mother?\u201d Kayise sits up, eyes wide. \u201cDidn\u2019t she call yesterday before we slept?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cMust I answer it?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cPut it on loudspeaker.\u201d<\/div>\n
I tap the screen. \u201cHello, Mom.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cHey, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cWe\u2019re fine.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cListen,\u201d she says, voice unnervingly soft, \u201cI spoke to your grandparents. They\u2019re coming this afternoon. I bought you some clothes and toiletries too. And if my husband gets paid next week, I\u2019ll send more money, clothes, everything.\u201d<\/div>\n
Kayise and I exchange a look. This isn\u2019t Siphokazi. The last time she bought us clothes was when we left Bulawayo for the village. I was fifteen. Kayise, ten. That was it. Now she\u2019s calling morning, noon, and night checking in like we\u2019re made of glass. And suddenly, gifts? Lihle must be a permanent resident in this village. I could get used to this attention.<\/div>\n
\u201cNhlanhla? Are you still there?\u201d<\/div>\n
I nod, as if she can see me. \u201cWe\u2019re here.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cI just want you to know that no matter what life throws at you, you have me. I may not be perfect, but I\u2019m all you\u2019ve got. Don\u2019t let outsiders come between us and destroy what we have.\u201d<\/div>\n
Kayise snatches the phone. \u201cMom, are you okay? People are dying of cancer these days. Your speech sounds like someone on their deathbed, confessing sins so they can get into heaven.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cMind your words you fool. I\u2019m your mother.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cI\u2019m just saying, since when are you nice? We were literally talking about how weird your calls have been and___\u201d<\/div>\n
I nudge her hard and shoot her a warning glare.<\/div>\n
\u201cOkay, Mom. Bye.\u201d She ends the call and turns to me. \u201cWhat\u2019s so wrong about telling the truth?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cYou love drama, don\u2019t you? Weren\u2019t you scolding me for accusing Chimney of burning the house, and today you\u2019re roasting Mom like she committed a crime?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cSiphokazi deserves every bit of meanness in this world. Just because she\u2019s feeling holy these days doesn\u2019t erase that she\u2019s a useless mother. She loves her husband more than she\u2019s ever loved us.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t blame her,\u201d I say quietly. \u201cDad died when she was young. Maybe she thought remarrying was her only way out.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t excuse nonsense,\u201d Kayise snaps. \u201cShe didn\u2019t have to marry a man who hates us. He didn\u2019t need to carry us on his back, but he could\u2019ve let her be in our lives instead of dumping us here like we\u2019re garbage.\u201d<\/div>\n
I scoff. \u201cThat same fire in you? Aim it at your paternal grandparents. Mom did her best. Imagine pregnant, widowed, kicked out with nothing. It was too much.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cTrust me the day I meet anyone from my father\u2019s family; we\u2019ll spend the whole day talking. I will even demand a report explaining everything in detail as to why they abandoned us.\u201d<\/div>\n
I stare at her and shake my head. \u201cYou won\u2019t even have the sanity to ask all of that. You will be angry and disgusted. Knowing that someone lived a life that was supposed to be yours hurts so much.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cI blame Siphokazi in all this. Why didn\u2019t she fight for what was rightfully hers? She could\u2019ve reported them. But no, she chose to secure a future for herself. A new husband, new kids. Like we never existed.\u201d<\/div>\n
We could argue all day. I let her be, hating Siphokazi instead of the people responsible for our suffering.<\/div>\n
A sound of branches being chopped cuts the air outside. I stand up and stretch myself before heading outside. I can\u2019t believe what I\u2019m seeing. Chimney is at the edge of our garden, hammering new poles into the ground, weaving thorny branches into a taller fence.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
We haven\u2019t spoken since the day I accused him of burning my house. I\u2019ve been avoiding him, ducking behind corners, pretending not to see him. And now he\u2019s here, in our garden without asking.<\/div>\n
\u201cHello,\u201d I say, voice tight.<\/div>\n
\u201cMorning, Nhlanhla.\u201d He doesn\u2019t look up. \u201cI noticed your fence was low no wonder goats kept getting in. I lost four already. I\u2019ll fix it before I lose more.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cOh.\u201d<\/div>\n
That day, anger made me say cruel things, things I didn\u2019t mean and things he was never supposed to know about. I don\u2019t know if we\u2019ll ever get back to what we were before.<\/div>\n
\u201cThank you for the clothes. We washed them and __\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re going to the school meeting today?\u201d he asks.<\/div>\n
\u201cThere\u2019s a meeting?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cHow can you not know something happening at your work place? Social workers will be talking to parents about mental health and child protection systems.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cOh that. I\u2019m not attending. I\u2019m still taking days off,\u201d I lie.<\/div>\n
My stomach drops. I can\u2019t tell him I was suspended or fired; I haven\u2019t had the energy to find out. I would love to attend such a meeting but knowing that Lihle will be there makes me lose interest. It\u2019s useless, I won\u2019t even listen to them, I will be thinking of ways of strangling her. At least Kayise isn\u2019t a student or a parent, that\u2019s the only grace I get today.<\/div>\n
I miss work, I also miss people who would come and ask about the fire sending consolation messages. Now life is back to normal. It\u2019s as if they stopped caring. As if the fire was just a passing storm. It\u2019s just us and these four blackened walls, whispering what was and might never be, again.<\/div>\n
In the afternoon Sibongile arrives. I\u2019m expecting her to be concerned about the burnt house and even asking the stupid questions of how we survived and what we saved in the house, but she doesn\u2019t, the first thing she says is, \u201cThanks to you and the Ndlovu people, who want to kidnap you, now I had to cut my trip short.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cI tried calling the day the house burned,\u201d I say, ignoring her drama about being kidnapped. I know that\u2019s what Siphokazi said to her.<\/div>\n
\u201cYou wanted us to come put out the fire?\u201d Methembe asks, angrily. I\u2019m used to him, he\u2019s always angry or shouting he doesn\u2019t scare me anymore.<\/div>\n
\u201cNo, Khulu\u2026 I just wanted\u2014\u201d I stop. I realise they don\u2019t care. I wonder if it was their house burnt they would have acted this way.<\/div>\n
I feel so alone, so empty. All I needed was for them to at least carry the pain with me. Even strangers did a better job, I know I used to hate it, but those pity stares, I now realise they\u2019re better than nonchalance.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
NARRATED<\/div>\n
Velaphi secures the last log in the kraal and walks home. From the yard, he hears singing.<\/div>\n
He stands at the door, smiling. Then, not wanting to seem like a ghost, he steps in.<\/div>\n
\u201cI thought I was lost,\u201d he says. \u201cI had to check twice if this was home.\u201d<\/div>\n
She turns. \u201cWhy? What happened?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cI\u2019d forgotten you sing like this.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cOhooo!\u201d She laughs. \u201cHow can you forget when you married me for my angelic voice! I only sing when my spirit\u2019s light.\u201d<\/div>\n
He pulls a chair, sits, and hands her a large plastic bag. \u201cMushrooms. From the forest.\u201d<\/div>\n
Linda opens it and her eyes brighten. \u201cI\u2019ll cook them by daylight, making sure none are poisonous.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cHow many years have I brought you mushrooms?\u201d Velaphi asks with a chuckle.<\/div>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not taking chances with my life. I don\u2019t want to die before I meet my grandchildren.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cAs if they\u2019re coming tomorrow.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cThey are coming.\u201d Her voice firms. \u201cYou think they\u2019ll appear just to vanish again?\u201d<\/div>\n
The helper enters, places Velaphi\u2019s plate on the table and slips out. Linda\u2019s phone rings. One glance and she smiles.<\/div>\n
\u201cLihle? What other good news do you have to give me peaceful sleep?\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\u201cYou\u2019re not complaining about the late call?\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\u201cDid you see Sinenhlanhla again?\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\u201cNo. I doubt I\u2019ll ever see her again.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
Linda\u2019s gaze flicks to Velaphi. \u201cWhy do you say that? Something happened?\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\u201cNot really. We had the parent meeting today. And\u2026 did I tell you? Sinenhlanhla is a splitting image of me. Even the gap in her teeth.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\u201cShe takes after her father, not you, Lihle.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\u201cDoesn\u2019t matter. He\u2019s gone. I\u2019m the one who looks like her now.\u201d Linda\u2019s voice softens. \u201cA man approached me after the meeting, neighbour of Nhlanhla and Kayise. He asked if I was her sister. I said aunt. He seemed surprised and happy to see me Kayise s a girl, Mom.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
Linda closes her eyes. A lifetime of longing wraps around her. \u201cDoes she resemble her father too?\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\u201cLight-skinned, they say. Their house burned. They lost everything.\u201d Lihle\u2019s voice cracks. \u201cWhen I heard, I couldn\u2019t hold back. I cried.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\u201cThere\u2019s nothing to cry for,\u201d Linda says gently. \u201cSometimes you must lose everything to gain what truly matters. Did you ask about Siphokazi?\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\u201cMarried to a high-ranking soldier and lives in Bulawayo. Those girls raised themselves because practically the grandparents are always away.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
Linda\u2019s breath hitches. \u201cPharaoh\u2019s relatives! If they didn\u2019t want them, why didn\u2019t they bring them to me?\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\u201cI couldn\u2019t bear it,\u201dLihle whispers. \u201cI left my team to finish without me. I\u2019m driving to Bulawayo now. But\u2026 I forgot to ask for their number. Or the neighbour\u2019s.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t have to be sorry, Lihle. You did nothing wrong.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\u201cWhen I get time, I\u2019ll drive back to Kezi\u2014\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\u201cNo.\u201d Linda\u2019s voice is steel. \u201cYou\u2019re not driving anywhere. They will come here. On their own. With nothing but tears.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\u201cWhat do you mean with nothing?\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\u201cYour line\u2019s breaking, Lihle. Hello? Hello?\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
She ends the call. Silence stretches in the room.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
Velaphi stops eating and watches her. \u201cDo you think they\u2019ll come before it\u2019s too late?\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\u201cThey have to.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
He sighs. \u201cI\u2019m just afraid. Lihle said they\u2019re navigating life alone. Without guidance, they could suffer for years. Maybe we\u2019re being selfish.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\u201cSelfish?\u201d Linda\u2019s voice rises. \u201cSelfish is Siphokazi! If she knew she couldn\u2019t mother Nhlanhla, why didn\u2019t she leave her with us? I don\u2019t care what it takes this time. As long as those girls aren\u2019t under this roof. I won\u2019t stop asking Butho to fight.”<\/div>\n
.<\/div>\n
..<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
..<\/div>\n
My apologies, i have power problems. If you see me awol, it’s not neglect. Please bear with me<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

VOID \u00a92026 Sanelisiwe Ndlovu Hoko CHAPTER FIVE SINENHLANHLA My phone rings. I shove it deeper under the pillow. I need […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"site-sidebar-layout":"default","site-content-layout":"","ast-site-content-layout":"default","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","ast-disable-related-posts":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"default","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"set","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"footnotes":""},"categories":[23],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-18979","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-void-novel"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18979","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=18979"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18979\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":18990,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18979\/revisions\/18990"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=18979"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=18979"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=18979"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}