NURSE THEMBENI
CHAPTER 5
CHIEF MENZI
I’m sitting in the main lounge of the royal house, the one with the big leather couches and the walls full of old family photos and clan shields. My father is pacing in front of me like a man who just found out his prize bull ran away. He’s been at it for twenty minutes straight, and I’m regretting every word I said when I came back from the hospital.
“You can’t even put your future wife in place,” he says, pointing at me as if I’m one of the kids who stole mielies from the field.
“What kind of chief are you going to be if you let a woman run around like she has no husband waiting?”
I am already a chief thanks to him, he put me on this throne, assigning me to big responsibilities before I turned 25.
I rub my temple, he’s giving me a headache.
“Baba, I’m not that kind of man. I won’t force Thembeni to do things she doesn’t want.”
He stops pacing and glares.
“That’s the problem, you’re soft maarn! Too soft for a man, Menzi maan. This crown is not a toy and you sit here acting like KaMajola can do whatever she wants.”
I shouldn’t have told him the truth. I should’ve said there was an emergency at the hospital, that her shift ran late, that Sister Dlamini confirmed it. Anything but “she left early and we saw her get into a car.” Now he won’t shut up, he’s repeating the same thing over and over, the humiliation, how she made the whole royal house look like fools, how the elders are already whispering about my so-called weakness.
Nxa! I blame myself, I was upset with her for standing me up for someone else that I didn’t even think twice about telling my father, hoping he would do something about it.
I regret it.
“Baba, please stop complaining. We’ll sort it out.”
He turns on me fast. “Don’t tell me to stop! What are you saying to me, Menzi? That girl is slipping off your fingers. So much is at stake here and you’re sitting there like it’s nothing!”
“I know what’s at stake, you have been telling me since I could understand, since you told me I would have to marry Thembeni. But it doesn’t mean I have to force her, she’s not a goat we tie up.”
He laughs, but there’s no humour in it.
“Stupid boy. You make a terrible leader, you know that? If you can’t even control your own woman, how are you going to control a whole nation? This family cannot lose this throne. If you don’t marry Thembeni Majola, we lose everything. That chair you are sitting on will feel like it was just a dream.”
I open my mouth to answer, but one of the guards appears at the door, head bent, hands clasped in front, the way they always do when they enter the royal chambers.
He’s reciting the Hlongwane clan names as he makes his way in. Sometimes I hear the walls shake when the clan names are called out loud, it’s as if the ancestors are complaining. My father thinks I’m crazy.
“What do you want?” Ngiyabonga Hlongwane; the man who fathered me snaps without even looking at the guard.
I don’t know why his parents gave him such a peaceful name, there is nothing to be thankful for here. My father is the most ruthless man I know, and he’s disappointed that I would not want blood smelling in my hands.
“There is a young lady here to see Inkosi uHlongwane. She says she knows where Thembeni is.” The guard keeps his eyes on the floor as he speaks.
My father growls. “How dare you call the future queen by name? You think this is a tavern? Strip him of everything, uniform, job, house if he has one here, and get him the hell out of this village. Now.”
He’s talking to the guard who’s always watching the entrance. The guard who’s just a messenger flinches but doesn’t move yet. He looks terrified.
“Baba, calm down. No one is banishing anyone from the village because they called her by name. The guards don’t even know her full name, they just say what they hear.”
He clicks his tongue loud. “You are too soft, Menzi, too soft.”
That is his favourite song.
I look at the guard. “Let the person in.”
The guard nods once, still bent, he backs out.
A second later the door opens again and a young woman walks in. She drops straight to her knees in the middle of the room and starts the greetings, rolling out the Hlongwane clan names the proper way. She’s going fast like she’s scared she’ll forget one.
I lift my hand.
“Stop. What news do you have about KaMajola?”
She keeps her head down. “She’s in the Champagne Valley, Cathkin Estates with a man named Mehlokazulu, Nkosi yami.”
My father shoots up from his chair so fast it scrapes the floor. His eyes go wide. When did his body decide to tremble? That was quick.
“What is his surname?” He asks.
“Mthunzi,” she says.
Ngiyabonga turns to me, his face is evident with horror. Pearls of sweat have gathered on his forehead.
“They’re back? How is this possible?” His voice shakes.
I feel cold in my stomach, my hands tighten on the armrests. Hearing the name Mehlokazulu Mthunzi changes everything.
“What do we do?” I ask.
My father waves the lady off. “Leave.”
She scrambles up, bows again, and hurries out. He looks at me, I have never seen him this scared before. He is the bravest man I know.
“We are moving the wedding to this weekend, no more waiting. You are going to marry her before that Mthunzi boy gets any funny ideas. You hear me?”
I nod, but my head is hitting against invisible walls.
*Mehlokazulu Mthunzi.* I thought that name was buried, I thought that family was gone for good. Now they’re back, and they’ve got my fiancée in their house. This weekend suddenly feels too far away.
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THEMBENI
Golide’s parents decided to leave the second I walked into the kitchen. His father did not look happy, anyone with eyes could see that. But honestly? I don’t read too much into it.
Why would I?
I’m not what Golide told them I am. I’m not his wife, I’m not his fiancée, I’m not even his girlfriend. I’m just a girl standing in another man’s kitchen, wearing his clothes, pretending I know how to cook in a house where even the stove looks smarter than me.
The pot of water is sitting on the stove, doing absolutely nothing. I stare at it for a moment, then laugh softly to myself. Imagine me, Thembeni, stressing over impressing parents for a role I never auditioned for.
I turn the stove off. Let the water cool down. I was never planning to cook anyway. I just needed to look busy, respectable, makoti-coded. Performance done, curtains closed.
I walk back to the bedroom, he’s in the shower.
Everything in here is him, big bed, clean linens, dark colours, and that rich smell that says this man has never waited for payday in his life.
I’m standing here in Mehlo’s massive bedroom zipping up this little duffel bag I dug out from the deepest corner of his closet. It’s too big for the clothes I had on when I arrived here. I’m not changing back into them, no way.
It’s almost midnight, and showing up at home looking like I robbed a man would have my mother praying extra hard and my brothers asking questions I don’t have energy to answer.
These clothes are big, comfortable, and they smell like him. Which is annoying because right now I don’t want to be reminded of him every time I breathe.
Why am I even keeping them on? Because I’m weak, that’s why. Because it has just dawned on me that part of me likes wearing his stuff even when I’m mad. But also, my clothes are still dirty. I didn’t have time to wash them.
The bathroom door opens. Steam comes out first, then him. He has a towel hanging low on his hips, water droplets sliding down his chest. What a show off.
Normally this view would have me forgetting my own name for a solid ten seconds. Tonight? Tonight I’m too pissed to drool.
He walks up behind me, slides his arms around my waist, and pulls me back against him like we’re one of those cute couples on TikTok who do morning hugs and forehead kisses. Since when does Golide do hugs? Since never. His lips land on my neck, it’s a soft peck, then firmer, pressing little kisses as if he’s trying to erase whatever argument is coming.
“Stop acting, your parents are gone.”
He continues, tightening his arms around me. My whole body betrays me for half a second. Goosebumps, heat, the usual nonsense, then praise God, reality slaps me.
I shrug him off like his touch suddenly burns.
“Leave me alone, Mehlokazulu.”
He lets go immediately, no argument. He just steps back, that’s who he is, he does not beg. I don’t turn around yet, I pretend the robe on the bed needs refolding even though it’s already neat. Anything to avoid looking at his face right now. I should take it as well, I put it in the bag. He’s not getting the bag as well.
He sits on the edge of the mattress and looks at me.
“Don’t leave.” He says.
“I’m leaving.”
“I’ll drive you in the morning, it’s too late.”
Too late? Says the man who just introduced me as his wife without a single warning. Too late for what exactly?
I glance at him. “What’s the point of me staying here if you won’t even explain why you lied to your parents? You called me umalukazana like it’s normal. Like I agreed to play house. You didn’t even give me a heads-up.”
He rubs both hands over his face, why is he exhausted? He started this.
“It’s a long story.”
“Then tell it, I’m not sleepy.” I say.
He pats the bed next to him.
I cross my arms. “I’ll stand… Talk.”
He drops his hand then looks at the floor for a second.
“I know about Menzi Hlongwane. I know you’ve been chosen to marry him.”
I let out a short laugh that has zero humour in it.
“Wow, breaking news. You already know everything about me anyway. Even the stuff I never told you. What, you got spies? Private investigators? You Google me at night?”
I’m not on Google, but still.
“A little research.” He says.
It suits him, prying and digging into things that have nothing to do with him.
“Why? Why do you need to keep tabs on me like I’m a criminal on parole?”
“Because I want to know what my woman is up to.”
I laugh again, this time louder. My stomach actually cramps from it.
“Your woman? Ha! Since when?”
“I’ve been inside you, Thembeni. You carry a piece of me. You really think I’m going to let another man take what’s mine after that?”
This man is actually serious, he thinks that one sentence makes me his property. Here I am, cracking up like it’s the funniest thing I have ever heard.
When I can finally speak without wheezing I wipe my eyes.
“You can’t be for real. You’ve treated me like your personal convenience this whole time. Pick-up, s’ex, money, drop-off. Repeat. And guess what? I was okay with it, I liked it simple and I still do. No feelings, no drama, just fun and money. Now suddenly you’re out here claiming ownership like I signed a contract? What is this, Mehlokazulu? What’s really going on?”
He exhales long and slow.
“You’re not a thing, I’ve never seen you that way, and I have never treated you like that.”
I roll my eyes so hard it has him breathing heavily.
“Don’t insult my intelligence. I know exactly how you’ve been treating me. Tell me the truth or take me home. Choose fast.”
He’s quiet for too long.
“It’s deeper than you think and too soon to reveal. If I tell you everything… I might lose you.” He says.
This guy is dropping bombs tonight and acting like I’m supposed to catch feelings instead of running. I zip the bag closed, throw it over my shoulder, and look him dead in the eye.
“Take me home, Golide.”
His whole face changes, a frown and tight jaw.
“You calling me by another man’s name now? Who is Golide? Where does he stay?”
He looks ready to fight someone. Like actually ready to load a bakkie and go looking for him.
“Golide is you, you idiot. It’s the nickname I gave you, because I’m a gold digger and you’re the gold mine.”
Now let’s see how he feels about me after this.
He doesn’t laugh, he doesn’t even smile. Did it work?
“You’re not a gold digger.” He says.
Yoh! I’m losing my touch.
“I literally am a gold digger, try to keep up.”
He stands up now, the man looks stressed. He takes both my hands in his big ones.
“What if I want more than that? What if I want to take care of you properly? What if I want you to be my wife for real?”
I yank my hands back.
“You’re too late. Another man already put a claim on me. I’m getting marri…”
His lips smash on mine, roughly. His hands cup my face. This is our first real kiss, ever. All the other times we’ve just gone straight to the main event. No build-up, no romance. My brain blanks out. I kiss him back before I remember I’m supposed to be angry. My legs turn to jelly and when he pulls away I sway, almost falling. He catches me, arms locked around my waist, holding me against his chest.
“Over my dead body are you marrying someone else,” he growls low. “Tell me what I need to do. I’ll do it right, KaMajola. I’ll even stop sending money if that’s what you need.”
My knees remember how to work real fast. Logic runs back into my brain, I push away from him, putting real space between us.
What the hell?!
“Not money, Golide. You’re not playing nice now.”
He looks confused.. Did he not know that it’s about the money?
“I can’t accept whatever this is anyway. I was chosen from birth to marry the chief. My family knows, the whole village knows. My mother has already started knitting doilies for the royal house. I can’t just cancel that like it’s a hair appointment, and besides…” I swallow hard. “I don’t love you.”
Something flickers in his eyes, I think I touched a nerve, I can’t tell.
I pick up the bag again.
“Take me home. Please.”
He nods once, grabs a black hoodie from the chair and pulls it on. He doesn’t try to argue anymore. I did say this man does not beg.
But the way he keeps glancing at me while he gets his keys tells me that this is not the end of this conversation, not even close.
And honestly? That scares me more than anything he’s said tonight.
My phone pings… it’s my brother Ngwcele, I don’t understand. Is it so hard to live without me in that house?
“Who is it?”
Oh no, I’m not that girl.
“No one you should worry about.” I tell him while I open the message, the phone is snatched before I can read what Ngcwele is saying.
“If you read that text, Golide, I’m walking out of here and you will find another sugar baby to show off to your parents.”
Why is his jaw acting up? It’s actaully his feelings showing on that tight jawline. Ngeke ngidlale umfana mina\ i will not played by a man like a doll. He sighs and hands it over, I read the text.
*The chief is on his way, get out of there.*
No way! Who told him where I am? Only Qondi and Nala know about this place.
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