The house smelled like him. Like Khotso's father. Like betrayal.
I locked the bedroom door and slid my back down it until I hit the floor. The red heels lay beside me, scuffed from the graveyard dirt. Outside, I could hear them. The villagers. Whispering. Waiting for me to run.
I wouldn't.
A knock. Soft. Then harder.
"Open up, you witch." Lerato's voice. Khotso's new wife. The woman who wore my old dresses to church while I was still breathing.
I didn't answer.
"My father-in-law was sick when he married you!" she screamed through the wood. "It doesn't count! The house is MINE!"
I stood up. Unlocked the door.
She fell forward with the momentum, landing at my feet in her designer funeral dress. Khotso caught her.
"Get out of my house," he hissed.
I stepped over Lerato. "Your house? Check the will, Khotso. Your father gave you R2000 for beer money. He gave ME the deeds." I held up the paper. "Signed. Witnessed. Legal."
His face twisted. "You think you can live here? In Thulamela? After what we did to you?"
"I think I own it," I said. "And I think you're trespassing."
He laughed, but it sounded wet. Scared. "The condition says one year. You won't last one week. The village hates you. They think you killed your own baby to escape."
The baby. My chest caved in for one second. Then I remembered why I wore red.
"Get out," I said again. "Or I call the police and tell them you're harassing the widow of the man who built this village."
Khotso grabbed Lerato's arm and dragged her out. At the door, he turned. "You should have stayed dead, Nthabeleng."
Nthabeleng. My real name. The one they buried.
I closed the door. Locked it. All three locks.
Then I finally let myself look around.
The room was exactly how he left it. Mr. Molefe senior's study. Books, leather, and the photo of us in Cape Town. My secret husband. Three months of marriage he hid from everyone, including me, until his last week.
"Why me?" I whispered to the photo. "Why leave me this war?"
My phone buzzed. Unknown number.
Message: "Red suits you. But it won't save you. Leave Thulamela or you'll end up in that coffin for real."
I didn't reply. I just walked to the window and opened the curtains wide. Let them see me. Let the whole village see that Nthabeleng Molefe was home.
And she