THE RISE OF TUMELO By Author’s Voice Chapter 22

THE RISE OF TUMELO
CHAPTER 22
Nthabiseng is jolted awake by the piercing sound of police sirens blazing outside the mansion, the shrill wail piercing through the darkness like a scream. She springs off the bed, her heart racing like a jackrabbit on steroids, and snatches her phone to check the time with trembling hands. 12:00 AM stares back at her, the midnight hour casting an eerie glow on her tense face, illuminating the fear etched on her features. “What are they doing here?” she mutters, a shiver running down her spine, her voice barely audible over the cacophony of sirens and her own ragged breathing.
Her mind instantly flashes back to the scuffling mess with Kanyisa, her estranged… whatever she was. The argument had gotten heated, things got out of hand, and now… now the police are at her door, their presence looming like a dark cloud over her head. A loud, insistent knock jacks her anxiety up a notch, making her jump like a startled cat. She almost loses her footing, stumbling backward as her bare feet hit the cold floor.
“Nthabiseng, open the door. I know you’re in there,” Kanyisa’s voice booms from the other side, her tone dripping with an unsettling calmness that sends a chill down her spine. Good thing she had the foresight to lock the door, her fingers had automatically clicked the latch shut, a habit she’d developed over the years. Panic sets in, and she frantically reaches for her phone, her fingers flying across the screen as she dials Tshepo’s number, her heart pounding in her ears like a drumbeat. Luckily, he picks up on the first ring, his voice a welcome lifeline in the storm.
“Tshepo, it’s the police, they’re here, I-” she starts, but Tshepo cuts her off, his tone dripping with malice, like venom injected into her veins.
“Good, I called them for you, since you beat up my wife.” Nthabiseng’s eyes widen, and she freezes, lost for words, her mind reeling in shock. The words hang in the air like a bad omen, making her stomach twist into knots.
“I’m pregnant, carrying your baby, Tshepo. I can’t go to jail,” she says, her voice cracking as desperation creeps in, her words spilling out in a tearful rush. The police bang on the door again, making her jump, the sound echoing through her like a thunderclap.
“Open the damn door!” they shout, their voices a harsh intrusion on her fragile composure.
Nthabiseng’s mind is racing – she wants to hide, to run far away, to escape the nightmare unfolding around her, but she’s stuck upstairs, trapped like a bird in a gazing, fluttering against the bars. Jumping out the window isn’t an option; she can’t risk breaking a bone or worse, not with a baby on the way, not with her life stretching out before her like a fragile thread.
The police move swiftly, breaking through the door with a loud crash, as Nthabiseng scrambles backward, her eyes wide with fear, her heart racing like a jackrabbit on steroids. Tshepo’s face is a mask of cold fury, his jaw clenched tight as he stares at Nthabiseng, his eyes flashing with anger, his gaze piercing like a dagger.
“Arrest her,” he says, his voice firm, as if daring Nthabiseng to defy him, his words dripping with authority.
Nthabiseng’s world crumbles, her legs buckling beneath her as she collapses to the ground, her body shaking with sobs. “No, no, they can’t. I’m pregnant. I…” Her words are lost in a wail as she rolls on the ground, crying, her hands covering her face, her fingers grasping at her hair, as if trying to hold onto something, anything.
“Tshepo, I’m carrying your child, you can’t do this to me,” she says, her voice piercing, as if trying to reach some hidden part of him, her words echoing off the walls, filling the room with desperation. “She’s the one that attacked me first, I fought back in self defence.” She adds.
Kanyisa’s anger boils over, her face reddening, her eyes blazing with fury. “I started the fight? Girl, you started it even though I told you to leave my premises, but you forced your way in. That’s trespassing, and hitting me on top of that. I’m opening a case against you, so next time you learn to stay away from married men!” she half-shouts, her words laced with venom, her body trembling with rage.
She’s not just angry at Nthabiseng, but at Tshepo too. Why would he cheat on her, when she does everything for him? God knows he has nothing under his name, and still taking chances on losing everything? The injustice of it all fuels her anger, making her words sharper, her tone colder, her eyes flashing with a mix of hurt and betrayal.
Nthabiseng’s sobs intensify, her body shaking with grief, as the police move to take her away, their hands firm but gentle, as if trying to calm a wild animal. “Please, no, don’t take me. Tshepo, don’t do this,” she pleads.
“Take her,” Tshepo demands, his voice cold, cutting off Nthabiseng’s desperate pleas. The police nod, their faces expressionless, as they haul Nthabiseng away, her cries and sobs echoing down the corridor, her body struggling against their grip.
As soon as the door closes behind them, Kanyisa turns to Tshepo, her eyes blazing with a deadly glare, her face twisted in a mixture of anger and hurt. Tshepo’s eyes flicker, but he stands his ground.
“I swear I don’t know her,” he says, his voice smooth, his words dripping with innocence.
Kanyisa’s laughter is low and menacing. “I never said you do, but she came here and said you’re her boyfriend and that you two are expecting.” She shakes her head, her eyes rolling in disgust. Lord, why are men like this? she thinks, her mind reeling with the betrayal.
Tshepo’s denial is instant. “She must got a loose screw, my love. I swear I don’t know her.” He takes a step closer to Kanyisa, his hands reaching out to placate her, but she shrugs him off, her body language screaming “back off”.
Kanyisa’s voice is ice. “Yazin, Tshepo. I will find out the truth, and once I do… we’re getting a divorce.” She turns on her heel, her exit swift and silent, leaving Tshepo looking uneasy, his mask slipping for a fraction of a second.
She stalks off to check on their children, hoping they didn’t see the ugly scene, her mind racing with the implications, her heart heavy with betrayal.
–––
NTANDO
Finally, I managed to convince Sihle to terminate the pregnancy, and we just arrived at the public hospital. The sterile smell of disinfectant and stale air wafts through the air as we sit in the cramped office, the uncomfortable chairs creaking beneath us. The walls are adorned with faded posters of pregnant women and babies, a stark reminder of what we’re about to do. The doctor, a kind-faced woman with a warm smile, sits behind her desk, her eyes flifting between Sihle and me, a file clipped to her clipboard.
“No one is forcing you to terminate, right?” she asks, her voice gentle, as if sensing the tension between us. Sihle’s eyes flicker to me, then back to the doctor, before nodding slowly, her shoulders slumping in resignation. Her hands are clenched in her lap, her knuckles white with tension.
The doctor nods, her expression understanding. “Alright, you’re already 4 months and 2 weeks pregnant, but…” Sihle cuts her off, her voice a little too loud, a hint of panic creeping in.
“Which means I can’t terminate since I’m above 3 months, right?” Her eyes are wide with a mix of fear and hope, as if she’s searching for an escape route. Her voice trembles slightly, betraying her attempt to sound calm.
I feel a surge of annoyance, my jaw clitching. Why can’t she just let the doctor finish talking? We had agreed on this, hadn’t we? I thought we were on the same page. “Why can’t you let her finish talking first?” I ask, my voice a bit sharper than intended, my eyes narrowing at Sihle.
The doctor’s smile never wavers, but her eyes flicker with a hint of understanding. “Sis, we can help you terminate even when you’re above 3 months, but there’s a contract you have to go through before we do this.” She hands Sihle a piece of paper, the sound of the paper rustling in the air. “Go through it, I’ll give you some space.” She stands up, her chair scraping against the floor, and exits the room, leaving us alone.
I shift closer to Sihle, our thighs touching, as we huddle over the contract, our heads bent together. The words on the page blur together as I try to focus on the tiny print, my anxiety spiking. Sihle’s hair brushes against my cheek, and I can feel her tension radiating off her body.
“What does it say?” she whispers, her voice barely audible. I clear my throat and begin to read, my voice low and hesitant, as I scan the document, trying to make sense of the medical jargon.
The contract flutters to the floor, forgotten, as Sihle’s words hang in the air like a challenge. “I can’t do this,” she whispers, her voice barely audible, her eyes welling up with tears. I feel a jolt of panic, my heart racing as I reach out to her.
“Sih…” I start, but she’s already moving, standing up and pushing her chair back, the screech of metal on floor making me wince. She cuts me off, her words spilling out in a rush. “What if something goes wrong? I don’t want to lose my womb, we both rather suffer with our child.” Her voice cracks, and I feel a pang of guilt, realising I’m not the only one who’s going to be affected by this decision.
I’m on my feet, chasing after her as she stalks out of the office, the sterile hospital corridor stretching out before us like a gauntlet. “Don’t do this Sihle, you know we can’t keep the child. We won’t afford it, we barely afford our needs,” I say, my words tumbling out, trying to reason with her, but she’s having none of it.
We’re outside now, the bright sunlight a cruel contrast to the turmoil brewing inside us. Sihle spins around, her face twisted in anguish. “So I must lose my womb because I’m afraid of poverty? Things will be fine one day, I’m not doing this.” Her words trail off into sobs, and I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut.
I’m an idiot, I think, feeling selfish and shortsighted. Losing a womb isn’t something you can replace. Once it’s gone, it’s gone. The thought sends a shiver down my spine.
“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, as I pull her into a hug, holding her tight as she cries. I guess I’ll have to look for a piece of job harder now, scrap for every cent, make sacrifices. There’s no way out of this.
–––
ITUMELENG
I’m sitting in the balcony with Tumelo, enjoying a leisurely breakfast – it’s 9am, and the sun is casting a warm, golden glow through the apartment, bathing everything in a cozy light.
Tumelo’s voice breaks the peaceful silence, “My mother invited me for dinner tomorrow.” He says, but his tone is laced with apprehension, and his eyes cloud over, like a shadow has passed over the sun.
I look up from my plate, intrigued, and respond with a casual, “Ohh, that’s good.” My eyes never leave his face as I take a bite of my toast.
Tumelo’s gaze lingers on me, and then he asks, “Can you go with me?” His voice is hesitant, like he’s not sure how I’ll react. I stop eating, my fork hovering in mid-air, and look at him, really look at him. A mix of emotions swirl inside me – excitement, nervousness, and a hint of trepidation.
“Tumelo, your mother doesn’t know me yet, you’ve never introduced me to her or any of your family members,” I say, my voice laced with a hint of concern, as I set my fork down, my appetite suddenly waning.
“I know, but tomorrow I will, please.” His eyes lock onto mine, pleading, and I hate how I can’t say no to him, not when he looks at me like that.
“Alright,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, and he smiles, showing me his beautiful set of teeth. My heart skips a beat, and I’m hit with a wave of affection for this man.
I can’t resist teasing him, “You should smile more often, you’re handsome and more attractive when you do. You actually make me want to touch your…” I say, my voice husky, as I reach out and gently touch his… totolozi. Tumelo’s eyes widen, and he jumps, almost dropping his plate, his reaction making me burst out laughing.
He scratches the back of his head, a sheepish grin spreading across his face, “Itu stop that.” he chuckles, his eyes crling at the corners.
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