A WEB OF DECEIT

chapter 2

NKOSIKHONA MKHIZE

Pacing my room, I felt trapped-both by the walls and by my own thoughts. The phone call from my parents was the latest blow in a series of upheavals. My father had been stern, more concerned with family honor than the truth. Ayanda's parents wanted a meeting about the pregnancy, assuming the child was mine.

But deep down, I knew there was a chance the baby wasn't mine. Ayanda had been with Sipho, my best friend, and the uncertainty gnawed at me. Yet, my parents were oblivious to this possibility, making their demands even more unbearable.

I needed to clear my head, so I decided to take a walk to the nearby coffee shop. The air was cool, and the smell of coffee was comforting. I ordered tea and then waited outside

Just then, my phone buzzed-a reminder of the pressure I was under. I walked back inside the coffee shop and took my order .Distracted, I bumped into a table, spilling tea onto a young woman nearby. Horror washed over me.

My embarrassment was overwhelming. I reached for my wallet, handing her few notes i had in my wallet.

I didn't wait for her response. I left the coffee shop, feeling like I was fleeing the scene of a crime. My mind was in turmoil, the brief interaction a small distraction from the chaos of my life.

Outside, my phone rang again-it was my father, summoning me home.

"Nkosikhona, get home immediately," he ordered. "We need to speak with Ayanda's parents tonight."

My stomach clenched. I hadn't even told them about the pregnancy myself. My sister, Duduzile, had told our mother, making everything worse.

"Okay, Dad. I'll be there," I said, my voice strained.

At home, the tension was thick. My parents sat with grim expressions, Duduzile looking uneasy but defiant.

"Nkosikhona," my mother began, worry lacing her voice, "we received a call from Ayanda's parents demanding a meeting, then your sister tells me Ayanda is pregnant, why didn't you tell us?"

"I-I was going to," I stammered, struggling to explain. "I needed to sort things out first."

My father's voice was stern. "This affects the family. You need to handle this responsibly."

Duduzile spoke up, her voice quiet. "I told Mom because I thought it was important for her to know."

My frustration boiled over. "You had no right! This was my mess to handle."

"We'll figure this out together," my mother interjected, trying to soothe the situation.

As the doorbell rang, signaling Ayanda's parents' arrival, my heart sank. I knew the conversation ahead would be difficult, but I had no choice but to face it. I took a deep breath, bracing myself for what was to come.

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THELANI DLAMINI

I straightened my uniform as I walked through the shiny hotel corridors, my mind juggling between work and my university deadlines. Every day felt like a marathon, and today was no different.

Just as my shift was ending, I got a call on my earpiece: "Thelani, we need you in the lobby. There’s a situation with a guest."

I sighed, feeling tired but trying to shake it off as I headed to the front desk. When I got there, I recognized her right away—Ms. Ntombi. She was known for being demanding, and by the look on her face, I could tell she wasn’t in a good mood.

"Good evening, Ms. Ntombi," I said with a forced smile, trying to sound calm. "How can I help you?"

She rolled her eyes at me. "Finally," she said sharply. "The room service was late, and my suite is unacceptable. This is below the standard I expect from this hotel."

I felt a wave of stress but kept my voice steady. "I’m really sorry about that, Ms. Ntombi. Could you tell me what exactly was wrong? I’ll personally make sure it gets fixed."

She crossed her arms and glared at me. "The bathroom wasn’t cleaned properly, the bed sheets were wrinkled, and the noise from the construction next door is unbearable. I want a refund and an upgrade."

Her demands hit me hard, but I nodded and tried to stay professional. "I understand. I’ll have housekeeping fix everything right away and see if we can move you to a quieter room. For the refund, I’ll need to speak with my manager first."

"Do it fast," she snapped. "I don’t have time to wait."

I quickly got housekeeping to fix her suite and found a quieter room. Ms. Ntombi didn’t seem happy but gave me a small nod when everything was done. That was about as close to a "thank you" as I could expect from her.

Later, when I finally got home to my tiny apartment, I collapsed on my bed, completely worn out. Balancing this hotel job with my studies was getting harder by the day, but I told myself that I just had to push through. Somehow, I’d make it all work.

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The next morning, I dragged myself across campus, feeling the weight of my sleepless night. My shift had ended late again, and now I was headed to the bursary office, hoping they could help with accommodation. I couldn’t keep doing these long hours and commuting—it was draining me.

At the office, I approached the counter with a tired but hopeful smile. "Hi, I’m here to ask about the accommodation allowance. I’m working part-time at a hotel, but it’s getting too much, and I’m hoping to find a student residence."

The clerk looked up at me with sympathy. "We can help with that," she said. "You’ll need to find a registered student residence first, and once you have confirmation and proof of your enrollment, we can process the allowance."

I nodded, feeling a small sense of relief. "Thank you," I said. "I’ll start looking right away."

As I left the office, I texted my friend Mbali. We grew up together in the orphanage, and she was always the person I turned to when things got tough. We decided to meet at our usual coffee shop nearby.

When I got there, Mbali was already sitting with a warm cup of coffee, her face lighting up when she saw me. "Thelani!" she called out with a big smile, standing to hug me. "You look like you need a break."

I sank into the chair with a sigh. "I do," I admitted. "Work is killing me, and I’m barely keeping up with my classes. I’m trying to find a student residence so I can get some relief, but everything feels so overwhelming right now."

Mbali nodded with a knowing look. "I hear you. My part-time job isn’t paying enough either, and between that and school, I feel like I’m barely holding it together."

We sat there, sharing our struggles, when suddenly, the door to the coffee shop swung open, and a guy hurried in, looking distracted. He wasn’t paying attention and bumped into a nearby table, knocking his tea all over me.

"Oh no!" he gasped, grabbing napkins and rushing over to help clean up. His face was bright red with embarrassment.

I sat there in shock, dripping in tea, not quite sure what to say. Before I could react, the guy pulled out R500 from his pocket and placed it on the table. "I’m so sorry!" he said, flustered. "This should cover the cleaning. I’m really, really sorry!"

Without waiting for a reply, he rushed out of the coffee shop, leaving me and Mbali staring after him, speechless.

Mbali laughed, shaking her head. "Well, that was unexpected."

I couldn’t help but laugh too, though I was still soaked. "At least he paid for the mess."

We finished our coffee, and despite the awkward moment, I felt a little better. Mbali always knew how to lift my spirits, and with her support—and that unexpected R500—I started to feel like maybe things weren’t so impossible after all.

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