THE RISE OF TUMELO By Author’s Voice Chapter 23

THE RISE OF TUMELO
CHAPTER 23
KHANYISA
I’ve poured my heart and soul into building a life, a future – not just for myself, but for my kids. Growing up in a tough household, I knew I didn’t want that life for them. So, I worked my butt off since I was 21, grinding every day to create something better. And I did. I built a comfortable life, got into a relationship with Tshepo, and thought I’d found my rock.
Tshepo was this rough-around-the-edges guy when we met – like, he’d sleep on park benches kind of rough. But there was something about him that drew me in. Maybe it was the vulnerability, maybe it was the spark in his eyes. I saw potential, and I wanted to be the one to help him unlock it. I took him in, gave him a place to crash, and next thing I knew, we were building a life together. He was the perfect partner – cooking dinner, cleaning the apartment, making sure everything ran smoothly while I was at work. I was his support system, and he was mine.
I trusted him with everything. I sent him 15k every month to get his life sorted – no questions asked. I had plans to open a fast food restaurant for him, something to give him a real leg up. I thought we were solid, like we were in this together. Eleven years went by, and I never once thought he was cheating. Guess I was blind.
Now he’s denying it like it’s nothing. The worst part? I’m the one who’s gonna look crazy if I bring it up with no proof. So here’s what I’ll do – I’ll cut him off financially, take back the cars, and see how he likes it. If he’s gonna play dumb, I’ll make him face the music. But if he’s gonna keep lying… I don’t know if I can stay in this marriage. Trust’s gone, and I can’t just sweep this under the rug.
I’m driving to my mansion, feeling a mix of anger and uncertainty. I took a day off work, let’s be real – I’m not feeling well, emotionally speaking. I just dropped the kids off at school, and now I’m craving something greasy. That’s why I grabbed a KFC paper bag on the way – no way I’m cooking breakfast for a husband who’s possibly cheating on me. He can sort himself out.
I park my car in the driveway and step out into the warm morning air. The sun’s already intense, mirroring the turmoil in my head. I grab the KFC bag and head inside, trying to process the mess that’s my marriage.
Tshepo’s in the lounge, eyes glued to the TV. When he sees me, he stands up, a sheepish look on his face. “Babe,” he says, like that’ll fix everything.
I ignore him, toeing off my scandals and heading upstairs. I need a shower, stat. I only managed to brush my teeth and splash some water on my face before bolting out the door earlier. The bathroom’s my sanctuary, and I’m hoping it’ll calm me down.
Tshepo follows me, sitting down on the toilet seat as I step into the shower stall. The glass door fogs up instantly, and I let the warm water wash over me, trying to rinse away the anxiety.
“Khanyisa, I’m sorry,” he says, voice loud enough to be heard over the water. “I don’t know her. You know I’d never cheat on you. Not after what you did for me. What makes you think I’d ever cheat on you?”
Ugh, he’s good. I hate that I’m starting to believe him. Maybe he’s right – why would he cheat? I turn off the shower, step out, and wrap a plush towel around my body. Water droplets slide down my skin, and I feel a pang of vulnerability.
“And how do I know you’re not lying, Tshepo?” I ask, eyes locked on his. My voice is barely above a whisper, but I mean every word.
God knows how much I love this man. Yeah, I’m 2 years older than him, but that means nothing when it comes to love.
“Because I have no reason to lie to you, you’re the only woman that matters in my life.” He steps closer, his grip on my hands warm and gentle, sending a shiver down my spine. “I love you, Khanyi, and hurting you is the last thing I’d think of.” He presses a soft kiss on the back of my hand, and I feel my resolve weakening, like sand slipping through my fingers.
“Please tell me you believe me,” he says, his eyes searching mine, boring into my soul like he’s trying to uncover my deepest secrets. I look away, feeling guilty for doubting him, for letting that girl’s words seep into my mind like a slow-moving stain.
“I’m sorry, I… I was scared because she came here and spit out your name without hesitation,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper, and he sighs, pulling me into a tight hug that makes me feel like I’m home.
“Khanyi, I wouldn’t ruin our beautiful family for someone like her, only you got my heart,” he whispers, his lips tracing the curve of my neck, sending sparks flying through my body like fireworks on a festive night. Maybe that girl’s got a screw loose, thinking she can come between us. I’m so dumb, why did I let her get into my head? Of course, Tshepo’s handsome, and I’m sure girls are drooling over him left and right, their eyes following him like he’s a magnet and they’re helpless to resist.
“Please trust me,” he whispers, his fingers tracing patterns on my face, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. I feel a flutter in my chest, but I’m not ready to give in yet, not completely.
“I… I… am not fully sure if I trust you at this moment. Please give me some space, I want to wear clothes,” I say, gently removing his hands from my skin, trying to catch my breath. He looks taken aback, but I need a minute to process, to gather my thoughts like scattered puzzle pieces.
“Kanyi, come on, I was watching you while you were showering,” he says, a sly grin spreading across his face, and I snap my brows, feeling a spark of annoyance flare up like a match.
“Is asking for some privacy wrong?” I ask, my voice a little sharper than intended, and he shakes his head, a sheepish grin still plastered on his face, before walking out of the bathroom, leaving me to collect my thoughts.
–––
NTANDO
I’m sitting on the worn-out couch in our small backyard, the warm sun beating down on me as I bite into the juicy mango, its sweetness exploding in my mouth. The sticky juice drips down my chin, and I lazily wipe it away with the back of my hand. I’ve sent off my CVs online, hoping against hope that one of the garages – Shell, Engine, or Total Energies – will see something in me and offer me a job. I’ve been job hunting for weeks now, and the uncertainty is eating away at me.
Sihle’s inside, probably busy in the kitchen, preparing lunch like she always does. I hear the clanging of pots and pans, the sizzle of something on the stove, and my stomach growls involuntarily. But I’m not hungry, not really. I’m just going through the motions, trying to distract myself from the thoughts swirling in my head.
The thing is, I’m slowly losing feelings for Sihle, and it’s not because of the pregnancy, or because she refused to terminate it. It’s just… I don’t know, I just don’t feel it like I used to. I can’t keep pretending, but I don’t want to hurt her either. We’re stuck in this limbo, and I don’t know how to get out.
“Lunch is ready,” she says, peeking through the door, a hopeful look on her face. I feel a pang of guilt, and I try to muster up some enthusiasm, but it’s just not there.
“I’m full,” I say, holding up the mango as an excuse, and her face falls. I hate seeing that look, it’s like I’ve kicked a puppy or something. “I will eat it later,” I add, trying to soften the blow, but it’s weak, even I know that.
I stand up, wipe my hands on my shorts, and head to the kitchen to wash up. Sihle’s standing by the stove, her eyes searching mine, like she’s trying to figure out what’s going on. I avoid her gaze, focusing on rinsing my hands, trying to delay the inevitable.
“I’m going out for some air,” I say, trying to sound casual, but it comes out flat. I grab the gate key and slip out into the scorching heat, feeling a mix of relief and guilt wash over me as I walk away from the house.
“Where are you going?” she calls out, her voice laced with hurt, and I know I’ve got to tread carefully. “Nearby, I just need some air,” I say, trying to reassure her, but it’s a lie. I’m running away, plain and simple.
I’m sitting in the tuckshop, the dim lighting a welcome respite from the scorching sun outside. I’m alone, nursing a cold drink, watching the group of men by the verandah puff away on their cigarettes. I take out my phone, scrolling mindlessly through social media, trying to kill time. Suddenly, I catch a glimpse of a familiar figure walking down the road. Wait a minute… I do a double take, my eyes narrowing as I try to place her.
I spring out of my chair, almost knocking it over in the process, and take off after her. My long strides eat up the distance, and I call out, “Hey!” trying to catch her attention. She turns around, a look of surprise on her face, and it’s Boipelo, looking just as stunning as I remembered. I slow down to a walk, trying to play it cool, and fall into step beside her.
“Hey,” she replies, flashing a warm smile that makes me feel like I’ve known her for years.
I try to match my stride to hers as we walk, taking in the way the sunlight catches her hair, making it shine like gold.
“How are you? Boipelo, right?” I ask, trying to confirm. She nods, and I feel a surge of happiness, hopefully she she remembers me too.
“Yeah, and you’re Ntando?” she asks, her eyes crling at the corners as she smiles, and I nod, feeling a little more at ease.
We walk in silence for a bit, the only sound the soft crunch of gravel beneath our feet. I ask, “Where are you going?” She looks way too put-together to be wandering around this neighborhood, and I can’t help but notice the way her eyes sparkle in the sunlight.
She pauses, her gaze drifting off into the distance, and says, “Nowhere, I just need air, my friend is missing.” Her voice is tinged with hurt, and I feel a pang of sympathy. I try to think of something to say, something that’ll make her feel better.
“Ohh, I’m sorry about that. Have you tried tracking her phone?” I ask, and she shakes her head, a small frown creasing her forehead.
Without another word, we both stop by a bush shelter and sit down, the silence between us feeling comfortable, like we’ve known each other for years. She leans back, closing her eyes, and I take the opportunity to study her profile, wondering what her story is.
–––
NARRATOR
SATURDAY MORNING…
Tumelo’s trying to keep his cool, but Itu’s being her usual dramatic self. She’s prancing around the room, butt naked, watching herself in the mirror, and he’s just chuckling, knowing she’s doing it on purpose. The morning sunlight streams through the window, casting a golden glow on her skin, and Tumelo’s trying not to stare.
“Come join me,” she says, wiggling her hips, and Tumelo’s just shaking his head, laughing.
He’s sprawled on the bed, propped up on his elbow, trying to look nonchalant, but his eyes keep drifting back to her. Itu’s dancing, her small frame moving with a confidence that’s almost hypnotic. Tumelo’s enjoying the show, until she stops dead in her tracks and starts examining herself in the mirror. “Yhoo, my kitten got a pimple,” she says, her eyes glued to the tiny imperfection.
Tumelo’s trying not to laugh, but it’s hard. He feels like disappearing, wondering why it had to be her out of all people. He looks at her, really looks at her, and can’t help but think about how crazy it is that he’s got feelings for this tiny, infuriating woman. He’s big and buff, and she’s… well, a mosquito, but he loves her anyway. He can’t explain it, but there’s just something about her that gets under his skin.
Itu’s still obsessing over the pimple, and Tumelo’s trying to distract himself. He focuses on her legs, the way they’re spread out in front of her, and the small mirror she’s holding between them. She’s examining the pimple with a intensity that’s almost comical, and Tumelo’s biting his lip to keep from laughing.
But then she says, “Ohhh! Totolozi is twitching,” and he’s mortified.
“It’s not twitching,” he defends himself, feeling his face heat up. Itu just laughs, a wicked glance in her eye, and approaches him. Tumelo’s eyes widen, and he’s ready to jump off the bed, but she’s too fast. She pounces, striding towards him with a mischievous grin, and Tumelo’s laughing, trying to fend her off.
Tap link & like my comment, target 500.