Ndalwenhle
"Everything seemed perfect," I begin, my voice low. "There were no warning signs. No shadows creeping in. Nine months down the line, my mother was ready to give birth. The baby clothes were bought. The checkups were done. She thought she had a partner by her side a man who would be there forever."
Nomonde's pen hovers, waiting.
"She went into labor," I continue. "Rushed to the hospital, clutching the small bag she had packed with baby clothes. They texted each other while she waited in pain, and she believed he would come. But when the moment arrived… sorrow slipped in, stealing joy.
"The day I came into this world was the same day Nhlalo stood at the altar with another woman. His real woman. His long-time girlfriend."
Nomonde gasps softly, shaking her head.
"My mother didn't know. She left the theatre at three in the afternoon, holding me for the first time. She named me Ndalwenhle Star. Her star. Her beginning. Her hope."
I pause, my chest tight. "She wanted to send him pictures—proof of their love made flesh. But when she tried… she was blocked. At first, she told herself it was network problems. Denial. The lover in her refused to see the truth. She called him, but every call went to voicemail."
Nomonde whispers, "She didn't know."
"No," I answer. "Not until my Aunt Sandiswa visited her in the hospital. My mother asked about Nhlalo… and Sandiswa didn't want to answer. But she couldn't lie either. She showed her a photo instead. A wedding photo. Nhlalo dressed as a groom. His bride by his side, both of them glowing with happiness."
I see Nomonde's face tighten, just as my mother's heart had that day.
"The pictures were everywhere. On Instagram. The comments filled with congratulations. A perfect couple. And then came the comment that shattered everything—a message from Ntando Zungu, the daughter of the man my grandfather was accused of killing: Welcome to the family, skwiza. Mrs. Ntombi Zungu.
"My mother gave Sandiswa back her phone. Tears poured down her face. She had believed the lies the gifts, the promises, the love. Even his surname had been a lie. She broke. She suffered a panic attack so violent the doctors had to sedate her. And when Sandiswa left after visiting hours, she carried the weight of knowing her sister had been destroyed."
I look down, my voice dropping lower.
"But the worst wasn't over. The next day, after feeding me in the nursery, my mother returned to her bed. Her phone rang. It was him."
Nomonde leans forward, her recorder blinking red.
"She almost ignored it. But she needed closure. She answered. And his voice was cold. Hi. I know you wanted answers, so I'll give them.
"My mother said nothing at first, just listened. Then he continued: I'm Nhlalo Zungu. The last-born of Mr. Zungu the man your father killed. I wanted revenge. But your father died too soon. So I chose one of his daughters. You. Every moment I spent with you was torture, but worth it. Because today, your life is in ruins."
Nomonde presses her lips together, eyes wide.
"My mother cried. Why me? she asked him. Why punish me? I did nothing to you.
"He laughed. Because I could. You were gullible. Easy. And now you'll carry a piece of me forever. That's my revenge. You'll raise my child. And no matter how much you hate me, you'll never erase me.
"She asked him, Did you ever love me?
"And he answered, Never. Not for a second. Then he hung up. Blocked her again. Gone."
Silence hangs in the room, heavy as stone.
"She held me that night," I whisper. "Her tears soaking into my blanket. She promised herself she would provide for me, no matter what. But promises made under pressure… they don't always last. Because I was born not out of love, not out of hope but out of vengeance. My very existence was the score he wanted to settle."