A WEB OF DECEIT ✔️

chapter 27

Thelani

Since that day, Lucas vanished from my life like I never existed. No calls. No messages. Just silence. Then, one afternoon, I saw a notification on my phone-a deposit of 200k into my account. Along with it, a single, cold message: "This should be enough. Our business is over."

Business. That's what it had been to him all along. Just a transaction. I wasn't a person to him, just an agreement to be settled with money. I stared at the screen, the numbers glaring back at me, and felt an overwhelming sense of emptiness. This was his way of washing his hands clean of me, of us. He thought money would fix it, would make everything disappear.

But I couldn't just make it disappear. It wasn't that simple.

The truth was, I didn't want to go through with an abortion. But at the same time, the thought of bringing a child into this world under these circumstances terrified me. I would be a single mother. And 200k? It might seem like a lot, but it would only last a few months, maybe a year if I was careful. What would happen after that? Rent, school, bills, diapers... the list of responsibilities stretched out endlessly before me.

I'd never even had a mother myself. How was I supposed to be one now? The fear gnawed at me. What if I wasn't enough? What if I couldn't protect my child from this cruel world?

But despite the fear, despite the uncertainty, something inside me refused to let go. I decided to keep the baby. It wasn't an easy decision. I battled with myself every day. But in the end, I couldn't bring myself to make that call. This was my child, my blood, and no amount of money or abandonment could change that.

Five months passed, and with each passing day, pregnancy tested me in ways I hadn't imagined. It wasn't just the physical changes-though those were hard enough. My belly swelled, my feet ached, and I was always tired, so tired that even keeping my eyes open during lectures felt like a battle. Studying became a distant second to just trying to stay awake. I'd doze off in class, my head bobbing, my body struggling to keep up with the demands of growing a life inside me. Everything felt heavy-my body, my thoughts, my emotions.

But what weighed on me most was the loneliness. I'd never felt so alone in my life. Lucas had, surprisingly, taken care of my tuition for the year and even paid the rent for my apartment, as if that somehow absolved him of his responsibilities. But every time I walked into that apartment, it felt like a hollow shell-a place that echoed with emptiness, reminding me that I had no one.

There were days I'd sit in my room, staring at the walls, feeling like they were closing in on me. I was doing this on my own, and the reality of that hit me harder with each passing day. No one was there to hold me when I was scared. No one was there to help me when I felt overwhelmed. I had no family, no one to guide me. Just me and this baby.

Today was another appointment with the gynecologist. I sat in the waiting room, my hands resting on my swollen belly. Around me, other expectant mothers were accompanied by their partners. They sat together, hands intertwined, whispering and laughing softly as they waited for their turn. I couldn't help but watch them, envy curling in my chest. They had someone-someone who cared, someone who was excited to share this journey with them. And here I was, alone, clutching my stomach like it was the only thing tethering me to this world.

I've never felt so isolated, so disconnected from everything around me. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was doing this all wrong-that maybe I wasn't cut out for this after all.

---

I arrived at the gynecologist's office feeling a mix of dread and anticipation. The air felt thick, and every step I took seemed to echo with the weight of my situation. The checkup went smoothly-everything was fine, healthy even. I should've been relieved, but instead, a new wave of anxiety washed over me when the doctor told me I was carrying a boy. A boy. I felt a tightening in my chest. Raising a child was daunting enough, but a boy? I'd seen firsthand at the orphanage how much of a handful they could be-restless, energetic, constantly seeking guidance and attention. Could I really handle that? Especially on my own?

As I left the office, my mind spun with endless thoughts of the future. There was one person I wanted to talk to-needed to talk to. Mbali. We hadn't spoken in months, but I decided to try anyway. To my surprise, she picked up on the second ring.

"Mrs. Billionaire, how can I help you?" Her voice was playful, but there was a bite to it, a reminder of the distance that had grown between us.

"Bathong, Mbali..."

"Talk, Thelani. I haven't got all day."

Her words stung. There was a time when we shared everything, when she would have dropped anything to listen to me. But things had changed, and I could feel her impatience through the phone. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves.

"Mbali... can I please see you?"

She let out a frustrated sigh. "Yho, Thelani hle, get to the point! I have things to do."

I closed my eyes, the words stuck in my throat. "Mbali, I'm pregnant. Heavily pregnant. I'm seven months pregnant."

There was silence on the other end of the line for what felt like an eternity. When she finally spoke, her voice was sharp and incredulous.

"You're what?!! Thelani, were you that desperate?"

Her words cut me, and I felt my breath hitch. I had known she would be surprised, but this? I wasn't prepared for this level of judgment from my best friend.

"Mbali, I got pregnant that day," I said softly, my voice trembling. "The day I didn't even give him consent. That was the only time we didn't use protection."

"Manje, Thelani," she snapped, "why are you calling me exactly?"

Her question felt like a punch to the gut. I swallowed hard, fighting back tears. "Mbali, I need you. I don't know what to do. I can't do this alone..."

Her voice hardened. "You only ever call me when you need something." And then-click-the line went dead.

I stared at my phone in disbelief, her last words ringing in my ears. The hurt was raw, fresh, as if she had reached through the phone and slapped me across the face. The weight of everything-the pregnancy, the loneliness, the rejection-pressed down on me all at once.

"Yho!" I exhaled, feeling the sting of her words. How did things get to this point? When did the person I once shared everything with become a stranger on the other end of a cold phone call?

Tears blurred my vision, but I wiped them away quickly. I couldn't afford to break down now.

---

Nkosikhona

Prison... well, it's not as hellish as I first thought it would be. Not anymore. The past seven months have been a trip, man. After that fight-it changed everything.

That one scrap with those guys who tried to corner me turned my whole situation around. I don't know if it was the look in my eyes or the way I handled them, but I've earned their respect. Now, instead of being a target, I'm treated like a king in here. They know better than to cross me now.

Funny how prison works-you make a few moves, get some bruises, and suddenly the whole dynamic shifts. The guards don't mess with me as much either. It's like they sense the power shift, and it's become a bit of a silent understanding.

I've got a network now, solid connections that stretch inside and outside these walls. It took time to build, but these guys have their own businesses, their own money flowing. Some are even politicians and CEOs out there, moving under the radar, and they're all looking for someone to trust in here. And now they trust me.

Food comes easier, better too-sometimes I even get fresh fruit from the outside. No one messes with my stuff, and I've got extra time in the yard. My "friends" see to that. I've got guys running errands for me, pulling strings. I've even got a couple of guards in my pocket.

As much as it sounds crazy, these next few years might actually be better than the last. It's funny to think that my life outside was falling apart, but in here... I'm building something. When I finally walk out of this place, I won't be walking out with nothing.