Ndalwenhle
"The boy who returned… he wasn't looking for peace," I say slowly, watching Nomonde's eyes stay fixed on me. "He came back to execute revenge. To him, my grandfather's death had been too easy. Too clean. Killing one man wasn't enough he wanted the family to bleed. And his target became one of my grandfather's daughters."
Nomonde leans forward. "Your mother?"
"Yes," I nod. "But at first, he weighed his options. My aunt Sandiswa was twenty-two at the time and already had a boyfriend, so he ruled her out. That left my mother, Nobahle. She was twenty, still living at home, working as a cashier at the local supermarket. Life hadn't been kind to her. To him, she was the perfect prey."
Nomonde's brow furrows. "He studied her, didn't he?"
"Like an exam he needed to pass," I reply. "For two months, he approached her again and again. He had a silver tongue, the kind girls couldn't resist. Everyone said he was handsome, wanted. But he only wanted her for his own reasons. Eventually, she gave in. She thought it was love. She had no idea she was walking straight into his trap."
I pause, my voice heavy. "He even lied about who he was. Told her his surname was Zulu, not Zungu. Clever, right? He rented a room nearby to make it look believable. He charmed his way past every suspicion. My aunt and grandmother warned her said something about him felt wrong. But my mother was already in too deep. He spoiled her with gifts, compliments, loyalty… things she'd never known from a man after her dad passing. To her, it felt like a dream."
Nomonde shakes her head slowly. "So he won her trust."
"He won her heart," I correct. "Even when people mocked her as 'the murderer's daughter,' he stood by her. That kind of loyalty… it was intoxicating. She believed she had finally found someone who saw her, not her father's sins."
I close my eyes briefly. The words feel heavier with each breath.
"Nine months into their relationship, she gave him her virginity. She wasn't forced. In fact, she'd tried months earlier, but he refuse
pretending to be the good man. On her twentieth birthday, she gave in. They used protection, but hatred has patience. It hides in plain sight, waiting for the right moment."
Nomonde scribbles in her notebook. "And then she got pregnant."
"Yes," I whisper. "A year and three months after they started dating, she began throwing up. My aunt urged her to visit the clinic. She thought it was food poisoning. But the nurse's words shattered her she was two months pregnant."
"She must have panicked," Nomonde says softly.
"She did. They always used protection. She didn't understand. The nurse told her even condoms aren't one hundred percent. She was only twenty. How could she raise a child? She texted him the news, expecting anger, denial… maybe even abandonment. But he surprised her. He showed joy. He told her he would be with her every step of the way. He had a job at Toyota, I mean, he had money. For the first time, she felt safe."
Nomonde sighs. "But it wasn't real."
"No," I reply. "It was all part of the plan. She confessed to her mother and sister, who were furious at first. But Nhlalo the name he used—played the perfect gentleman. He brought her food cravings, showered her with compliments. Eventually, even my grandmother accepted him. When his so-called uncles from Durban came to pay damages for the unborn child and the deflowering price, the neighbours were shocked. Jealous, even. They thought my mother had found her blessing."
I look at Nomonde, my voice tightening. "But they celebrated too early. Because that blessing was a curse in disguise. A dark angel mistaken for a white one."