Remedy

10. Choices

Seyiso

Seeing her with her family awakened something deep within me—a yearning for the joy they shared. It wasn’t the type of joy that’s staged for Instagram likes, posed for the perfect shot, or curated for social media feeds. No, it was real. Authentic. Pure.

The kind of joy that seems to flow like an unbroken river through the family, saturating everything in its path. I saw it in the way her parents looked at each other, the way they spoke, the subtle, unspoken gestures that conveyed love without words.

They loved each other, and that love flowed through them and into her. Raiah was someone who knew love, who could give love, because she had experienced it in its truest form.

For someone like me, broken and twisted by misconceptions about love, I wondered if we were even compatible. When she realized that I was just a fractured man trying to patch the voids that were carved out when I was a child, would she still want to pursue anything with me? Would she even consider returning my interest?

There was no denying that her father’s apprehension was justified. I could sense it the moment we met. His eyes were sharp, guarded, as if he were searching for cracks in my facade, waiting for any slip-up that could confirm his doubts.

There was a watchfulness in his gaze—almost haunting—that made it clear he was ready to protect his daughter and his family at any cost. He was a father, after all, and a man with a home to guard. I respected that. Honestly, if I were in his position, I wouldn’t trust me either.

But I couldn’t let him know that I felt this way. So, I tried to make him relax, to engage in small talk that could bridge the gap between us. I was polite, even a bit charming, but he was no fool.

He was playing along for his daughter’s sake, masking his reservations with a thin layer of civility. Raiah noticed it too, the way his skepticism subtly flavored his interactions with me, but she didn’t dwell on it. Instead, she seemed amused, confident that her father’s protectiveness wouldn’t last.

It made sense why he was skeptical. I was a man she barely knew, showing interest in his daughter—a daughter who was clearly cherished. He couldn’t dislike me outright without any tangible reason, and yet, I knew it was up to me to ensure he never found one.

At the same time, I wrestled with an even greater challenge: convincing myself that I was worthy of her attention, that I could offer her something meaningful. But truthfully, I was struggling to come up with enough reasons why someone like her should even consider someone like me.

Loyiso’s calls had been persistent, coming in three times over the span of an hour. But I deliberately ignored them. I knew exactly why he was calling, and I had made a promise to myself: no matter what, I wasn’t going back to Cape Town.

Loyiso had a way of pulling me into situations I wanted to escape, and answering his call would likely undo the resolve I had worked so hard to build.

Instead, I decided to bury myself in my work. Coding always offered a sense of control, a realm where logic ruled and every problem had a solution if you were patient enough to find it. With coffee in hand and a thick blanket wrapped around my shoulders, I dove in.

Time blurred as I focused on lines of code, algorithms, and syntax. Four hours passed in what felt like minutes. I was completely immersed in the flow when a call jolted me back to reality. But this time, I wasn’t irritated.

It was her.

For a moment, I just stared at my phone, surprised that she had actually decided to reach out after everything that had happened earlier. I took a breath, allowing myself a small smile before I answered.