Zamageda his heart

chapter 24

As morning's warmth awakens me, gentle kisses dance across my back, and a tender touch whispers sweet nothings to my breast. Soft moans escape my lips as loving fingers trace circles down my rounded belly, blossoming with new life. With reverence, he tends to my blooming garden, his touch a gentle breeze that stirs the petals of desire. My heart beats in harmony with his, our bodies entwining like vines as he nurtures the bloom within me. With every tender stroke, our love ripens, ready to burst forth in radiant splendour.

'Sawbona, mkami,' he greets, his deep voice vibrating on my chest, leaving me breathless and blushing. My attempted 'hi' escapes as a soft moan, amusing him as he giggles and showering my shoulder with kisses. 'Yesterday was incredible, ngyabonga, mama,' he says, beaming with love and pride. I turn to face him, and our lips meet in a tender whisper: 'I love you.' He smiles, proud of the ancestors' guidance, saying, 'Ombulazi bangenzela iqiniso ngawe munt'wam.' I feel grateful for this amazing man, whose love drowns my fears. I know that even if I were to drown in the depths of the ocean, he would be my lifeline, his love bringing me back to shore.

As I bask in his embrace, his whispers weave a serenade, but parental duties beckon on this Christmas Eve. I long to linger, yet we must show up for our duo. The second trimester's promise whispers sweet nothings, and I'm grateful for this morning's reprieve from the tempests of sickness. 'lets get breakfast,' I say, as my stomach's emptiness echoes. Room service arrives, and we indulge in a shower's warmth, then slip into a pink dress for me, shorts and a tee for him. 

He offers to pack yesterdays clothes, while I sip warm lemon water, watching waves caress the shore. Our balcony feast unfolds, the energy serene, as he massages my legs with gentle devotion. In this tranquil bubble, I refuse to let the whispers of impending chaos intrude.i never want to escape nor let the idea that this is the calm before the storm ruin the perfection surrounding me.

'Do you have plans for today?' he asks as we check out. 'Just lunch with the kids, then I'll spend the evening with Nyezi and Phili,' I reply. We don't make a big fuss about Christmas – just church, lunch, and drinks, which is off the table for me now. 'Oh,' he says, 'I thought Nyezi told you that Ubaba invited them to join us for lunch tomorrow.' He adds, 'Magasa's already arranged for a pickup later when we head home.' News to me! I was with Nyezi yesterday, and she didn't mention it. Guess I don't get a say on this one. I settle the bill and we head out. Minutes later, I get an earful for 'taking away his right to provide' as he reimburses me. He loads our bags and flowers, opens the door for me, and does something on his phone before driving off to Salt Rock. I giggle at the bank notification on my phone. 'I'm never gonna win this with you!' I tease. 'Nombulazi bangama ngezinyawo sthandwa sami,' he says, as if spoiling him is a sin.

The drive to our place is a melodic journey, with his neo-soul playlist filling the air as the sea breeze cools us from the scorching heat. Xoli greets me with infectious excitement, fishing for details, and I happily oblige. I appreciate how she's created a safe space for me, welcoming me with open arms despite not being a wife yet. 'Let's make lunch!' she says, pulling me into the kitchen. We prepare a feast – beef burgers, chicken wraps, and plenty of water, juice, and snacks. Lwazi and Ntsika arrive with a troupe of toddlers and preschoolers, and my head spins from the chorus of 'Sawbonas.' 'Where's Daddy?' Namisa asks after a tight hug. 'He's sleeping, baby,' I reply; he's been napping since we arrived. Iyana ignores me, lost in thought, a familiar feeling – it hurts, but I hold onto hope that we'll bond when we live together.

As soon as I reveal which room he's sleeping in, they dart off to find him. Ntsika hands me the baby, Zara, who's sleeping peacefully on his shoulder, and introduces us. I'm immediately smitten, inhaling her sweet baby scent and feeling the maternal instinct kick in. Her full, curly hair suggests her mom is from a different race. We head to the beach, Zara still snug against my chest, and I'm reluctant to let her go. Under the umbrellas, Xoli and I chat while keeping a watchful eye on the kids. I spot Hlobi, Thando, and Wandi approaching, with Phili and Manqoba trailing behind. Phili's crimson cheeks suggest Manqoba's charm is getting under her skin, and I don't like it one bit, but I'm her sister, not her mom. The day unfolds with the guys engrossed in conversation and drinks, Xoli and Nolu playing mother hens, and the teens trying to hide their high from us – but we're adults, we know the signs.