SHATTERED DREAMS

CHAPTER TWO

Watching Hlelolwenkosi move into my home felt like watching a carefully staged play. She stepped inside, her expressions a mix of uncertainty and quiet strength. I had to remind myself that this was all part of the arrangement—a business deal wrapped in tradition, but deep down, I felt the weight of the situation pressing down on me.

The lobola negotiations had gone smoothly, as expected. My parents were pleased, and the customary exchange solidified my family's standing in the community. But as I stood there, watching her unpack her things, I couldn’t shake the unease that accompanied her arrival. The truth was, I didn’t want a wife, especially not one who seemed to harbor resentment.

“Welcome to your new home,” I said, attempting to break the silence.

“Thanks,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. There was a chill in her tone, one that told me she didn’t view this place as a home but rather a cage.

After giving her a brief tour of the estate, I sensed her apprehension. The grandeur of the place was overwhelming, and I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of satisfaction at how well it contrasted with her modest upbringing. But that satisfaction quickly turned sour as I caught her eye, filled with a mix of resentment and determination.

I introduced her to MaDlamini, the housekeeper, a woman who had been with my family for years. “MaDlamini will help you settle in. She knows everything about the house and can assist you with whatever you need.”

MaDlamini nodded, her presence warm and welcoming, a stark contrast to Hlelolwenkosi’s frosty demeanor. I felt a pang of frustration. Why couldn’t she just embrace this new life?

As the evening progressed, I tried to connect with her, to break through the barriers she had erected. “You’ll need to get used to the staff. They’ll be around a lot. Just treat them like family,” I advised, hoping to soften her icy facade.

But her response was curt. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

I felt the tension between us thickening, a chasm I couldn’t seem to bridge. The truth was, I had my own issues to deal with. I was still tangled in a relationship with Thandiwe, the woman who brought me a sense of freedom I craved.

Just as I was lost in my thoughts, my phone buzzed on the table. The familiar name lit up the screen—Thandiwe. I felt a rush of guilt mixed with excitement as I swiped to answer.

“Hey,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual.

“Hey, you! How’s the new wife?” she teased, but there was a hint of seriousness in her tone.

I glanced at Hlelolwenkosi, who was quietly observing us, her expression unreadable. “It’s… different. She’s settling in, I guess.”

“Different? Or complicated?” Thandiwe pressed, her voice filled with the kind of understanding only she possessed.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “You know me too well.”

“Just remember what we talked about. Don’t lose yourself in this. You have to be honest with her and yourself.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “I know. It’s just… she’s not what I expected. There’s so much tension.”

“Give it time. You might find a way to make it work, or you might find it’s just not meant to be.”

I glanced at Hlelolwenkosi again, her back turned as she examined one of the paintings on the wall. She looked so small in this vast space, and I wondered if she was even aware of the weight of the decision she had made.

“Yeah, I’ll figure it out,” I said, though my heart was heavy with doubt.

After we hung up, I turned back to Hlelolwenkosi, who now looked lost in thought. It struck me then—this was not just about me and my past with Thandiwe; it was about her future, her happiness, and her struggle to adapt to a life she never chose.

But I also couldn’t shake the feeling that beneath her quiet exterior lay a fierce spirit, one that might one day challenge me. As I stood there, uncertainty swirled in my mind. Would I end up resenting her for this arrangement, or would we find a way to coexist, however imperfectly? Only time would tell.