THE RISE OF TUMELO By Author’s Voice Chapter 20

THE RISE OF TUMELO
CHAPTER 20
Tumelo sits on the highchair, his eyes fixed on Itu as she sets a steaming plate of breakfast in front of him. The aroma of scrambled eggs and toast fills the air, but he’s not hungry. He’s been off since morning, trying to keep his emotions in check, but it’s like a storm brewing inside him.
“Here you go,” Itu says, her voice bright, as she sits next to him.
“Thank you,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. He can’t shake off the feeling of unease that’s settled in his chest.
Itu notices his distant gaze and her expression changes, concern etched on her face. She leans in, her eyes searching his. “Tumelo, you’ve been off since morning, what’s wrong? Did I do something?” she asks, her voice laced with worry.
Tumelo tries to brush it off, not wanting to burden her with his problems. “No, don’t worry about it. Let’s eat,” he says, trying to force a smile.
But Itu is not having it. She puts down her fork, her eyes flashing with a mix of worry and hurt. “Oh, so we’re keeping secrets from each other? You don’t trust me?” she asks, her voice tinged with offense.
Tumelo realizes he’s hurt her and tries to backpedal. “No, it’s nothing like that. Of course I trust you, but this is a family issue,” he says, trying to reassure her.
Itu’s expression changes, her lower jaw dropping in shock. For a moment, she’s taken aback, and Tumelo can see the hurt in her eyes. She thought they were past this, that they were a team, a family. But Tumelo’s words make her wonder if he’s considering her as part of the family at all.
The air is thick with tension, and Tumelo knows he’s messed up. He tries to reach out, to take her hand, but Itu pulls away, her eyes welling up with tears. Her voice is barely above a whisper when she speaks. “So I’m not family to you?” she asks, the words hanging in the air like a challenge.
Tumelo’s eyes widen, realising the mistake he’s made. “No, Itu that not what I mean. Of course you’re my family– I meant…” He sighs not finding the perfect words to say.
Itu’s eyes narrowed, her eyebrows snapped together in a mixture of concern and determination, as if she was trying to read Tumelo’s mind. The warm sunlight streaming through the window highlighted the tension in her face. “Then tell me, what’s wrong?” she asked, her voice firm but gentle, like a soft breeze on a summer day.
Tumelo let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his worries. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to massage away the tension headache brewing behind his eyes. “It’s my mother, Itu, that woman is stressing me,” he said, his voice laced with frustration, like a crack in the surface of a calm lake.
Itu’s expression softened, and she leaned in, her eyes focused on him like a laser beam. The scent of freshly cooked breakfast wafted through the air, but Tumelo’s appetite had vanished. “How so?” she asked, her voice full of empathy, like a warm hug on a cold day.
Tumelo’s face twisted in distaste, like he’d bitten into something sour. “She met a man which I don’t like,” he said, but his tone dripped with disapproval, like a bad omen.
Itu’s eyebrows rose, and she tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “So you don’t want your mother to fall in love?” she asked, her voice neutral, like a calm lake on a windless day.
Tumelo snapped his eyebrows at her, his defensiveness rising like a tidal wave. “I mean she’s not that old, she needs someone… but… he’s just after my mother’s money, which is mine,” he said, his voice laced with possessiveness, like a dragon guarding its treasure.
Itu’s expression changed, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes, like a mischievous spark. “Good one, where are you getting your money because you’re not working? I’ve never seen you go to work,” she asks, her voice light, but with a hint of curiosity, like a cat pouncing on a toy.
Tumelo’s face froze, and he cleared his throat, trying to deflect the question. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “This smells good, let’s eat,” he said, abruptly changing the topic, like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat.
Itu’s eyes narrowed, sensing there was more to the story, like a detective piecing together clues. “So, you’re dodging the question, huh? Must be something interesting going on with your finances,” she says, her eyes scanning the room as if searching for clues.
Tumelo’s face remains expressionless, but his eyes flicker with a hint of warning. “I own restaurants, hotels, and shisanyamas and lodges in Pretoria,” he says, his voice flat and matter-of-fact.
Itu’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “What? Tumelo, that’s… that’s huge!” she says, her voice filled with excitement.
Tumelo shrugs, his expression unchanged. “Mmhmm,” he says, taking a bite of his food.
Itu’s eyes narrow, sensing there’s more to the story. “How did you… I mean, how did you manage to get all of that?” she asks, her voice probing.
Tumelo’s gaze turns icy, and he looks away, his jaw clenched. “It’s mine,” he says, his voice firm and final.
Itu’s eyes widen, sensing she’s hit a nerve. “Okay, okay. I won’t ask more,” she says, her voice softening.
Tumelo’s expression remains hard, and he continues eating, his silence a clear indication that the conversation is over.
–––
BOITUMELO
The warm sunlight streaming through the Riverside Mall windows casts a golden glow on Boitumelo’s worried face as she sits with Mandla, Tisetso’s father, at a quaint café. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafts through the air, mingling with the sound of gentle chatter and soft music. But Boitumelo’s mind is elsewhere, preoccupied with the tension brewing between her and Tumelo.
Mandla’s question pulls her back to the present, his voice laced with a hint of sadness. “He still doesn’t want to meet up with me?” he asks, his eyes searching hers, the hurt visible in their depths.
Boitumelo sighs, feeling a pang of guilt. “Unfortunately, yes. I don’t know why he’s so overprotective. I’m his mother, but he shouldn’t choose if I should fall in love or not. I can make decisions on my own,” she says, her words tumbling out in a mix of frustration and worry.
Mandla’s expression softens, and he reaches for her hand, his touch warm and comforting. “I know, my love. I understand that he’s looking out for you, but I’m not a bad guy, Boitumelo. I genuinely care about you, and I want to make things right with him,” he says, his voice gentle but determined.
Boitumelo looks away, trying to process her emotions. She’s been single for so long, focusing on raising her children, and now she’s unsure about letting someone in. “I know, Mandla. It’s just… Tumelo’s been through a lot, and I’m worried about him,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
Mandla’s eyes light up with understanding. “You mean the incident with his father?” he asks, his voice soft.
Boitumelo nods, feeling a lump form in her throat. “Yes. He never really got closure, and I don’t want him to get hurt again,” she says, her words trembling.
Mandla’s expression turns reassuring, and he squeezes her hand. “I’ll be careful, Boitumelo. I promise. On Saturday, I’ll come over, and we’ll have dinner together, the three of us. We’ll talk, and I’ll do my best to make things right with Tumelo,” he says, his voice filled with conviction.
Boitumelo’s instincts scream warning, her mind racing with reasons why this isn’t a good idea. Tumelo is stubborn, and she doesn’t want Tisetso to witness his older brother’s animosity towards his father. But Mandla’s eyes, those familiar eyes that had once made her heart skip a beat, plead with her, and she finds herself weakening.
“You can trust me, Boitumelo,” Mandla adds, his voice a gentle caress, as he raises her hand to his lips, kissing the back of it gently.
She forces a small smile, trying to hide her doubts. “I’ll do that,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
Mandla’s face lights up with a warm smile, and he leans in, his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. “I’ll make it worth your while, Boitumelo. I promise,” he says, his breath whispering against her skin.
Boitumelo feels a flutter in her chest, a mix of emotions swirling inside her. As she meets Mandla’s gaze, she knows she’s walking a thin line, trying to balance her love for her children and her growing feelings for Mandla. Their relationship is new, yes Tisetso is 14 years but they weren’t dating back then. She needed a man’s hand, that’s how she got Tisetso.
–––
NARRATOR
The sound of clothes rustling and luggage zipping fills the air as Nthabi packs her belongings with a determined fervor. She’s done waiting, done playing games. She’s going to make Tshepo do right by her, even if it means disrupting his entire life.
As she tosses her clothes into the suitcase, her best friend, Boi, walks into the bedroom, a look of concern etched on her face. “You’re packing?” she asks, her voice laced with a mix of surprise and worry.
Nthabi doesn’t look up, her focus fixed on the task at hand. “Isn’t it clear?” she replies, her tone firm and resolute.
Boi sits down on the bed, her eyes scanning the room as if searching for answers. “Where are you going?” she asks, her voice softer now.
Nthabi zips up her luggage and turns to face her friend, a hint of defiance in her eyes. “I’m moving in with Tshepo,” she says, her voice steady.
Boi’s expression turns disapproving, her brow furrowing in concern. “But Nthabi, that man is married. You’ll ruin his marriage,” she says, her words laced with a warning.
Nthabi chuckles, a cold, calculated sound. “He should have thought of that before getting in between my thighs,” she says, a hint of venom in her voice.
Boi’s eyes widen, and she shakes her head. “Nthabi, think about this. You’re not just ruining his marriage, you’re also affecting his children. Have you thought about them?” she asks, her voice filled with a mix of frustration and concern.
Nthabi’s expression doesn’t falter, her eyes flashing with determination. “I’ve thought about it, Boi. I’ve thought about everything. And you know what? I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get what I want. Tshepo’s going to be with me, and if his wife can’t handle it, that’s her problem,” she says, her voice dripping with confidence.
With a swift movement, she grabs her toiletries and disappears into the shower, leaving Boi to process the bombshell she’s just dropped.
As the water starts running, Boi lets out a deep sigh, her eyes filled with worry. She knows Nthabi’s family, and they’re not going to take this lightly. Her father, a strict traditionalist, will be furious. And Tshepo’s wife… Boi shakes her head, unsure of what the future holds for her friend.