SHATTERED DREAMS

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I sat in my car, gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary. Staring at the hospital entrance, a heaviness settled in my chest. I knew what I was about to do wouldn’t be easy, but it had to be done. After everything that had happened, it was time to close the chapter on my relationship with Thandiwe and focus on making things right with Hlelolwenkosi.

For the first time in a long while, I felt clarity wash over me. The loss of our child had shaken me to my core, but it also forced me to confront my choices. The grief lingered, a constant shadow, but I understood what I needed to do. Hlelolwenkosi had stood by me even when I didn’t deserve it, and our marriage—though complicated—was something I needed to fight for.

With a deep breath, I exited the car and walked through the sterile halls of the hospital. The familiar scent made my stomach churn, reminding me of the last time I was here when I left in a haze of confusion and grief. But today, I returned with purpose.

Thandiwe’s room was quiet when I entered. She sat up in bed, her gaze distant as she stared out the window. The loss had taken its toll on her, just as it had on me. But today, we couldn’t avoid the inevitable conversation we needed to have.

When she turned to face me, her expression softened with a hint of sadness. “Sbanisethu,” she said quietly. “I didn’t expect to see you.”

I nodded, stepping closer to the bed while keeping a respectful distance. “I wanted to come and see how you’re doing.”

Thandiwe offered a small, tired smile. “I’m surviving, I guess. It’s been… hard.”

A lump formed in my throat as I looked at her. We had shared so much—our joys, our hopes for the future, and then the crushing grief of losing our baby. But now, it was time to let go.

“I know, Thandiwe. It’s been hard for both of us,” I said gently. “But I need to talk to you about something important.”

Her eyes searched mine, as if she already knew what was coming. “You’re here to say goodbye, aren’t you?”

I exhaled slowly, nodding. “Yes. I am.”

Thandiwe’s gaze fell to her hands resting in her lap. “I figured this would happen eventually,” she whispered. “After everything… after losing the baby… I knew we couldn’t stay like this forever.”

I stepped closer, my voice tender but firm. “I’m sorry, Thandiwe. I never meant to hurt you. I truly cared about you. But my marriage to Hlelolwenkosi… I have to make it work. It’s time for me to do right by her.”

Her breath hitched as she blinked back tears. “I understand. I always knew you were married. Maybe I convinced myself that we had something stronger, but I always knew deep down that you weren’t really mine.”

Hearing her words ached in my chest. We had shared love, but it had always been built on shaky ground. My actions hurt more than just myself; they hurt her too. And for that, I felt a deep sense of guilt.

“I didn’t mean for things to get so complicated,” I said, my voice thick with regret. “I thought I loved you, Thandiwe. Maybe I did in my own way. But the truth is, I was running from my problems instead of facing them. I thought being with you was the solution, but I was wrong.”

Thandiwe wiped her eyes, her sadness palpable. “It wasn’t just the baby, Sbanisethu. I wanted you, all of you. But I always knew I could never have that. Not really.”

I stepped closer and gently took her hand. “You deserve more than I could ever give you. You deserve someone who can be there for you completely, someone who can love you fully and without hesitation. I’m sorry that wasn’t me.”

She sniffed, looking up at me with red-rimmed eyes. “What about us? What about the memories we made? What about our child?”

I closed my eyes briefly, feeling the full weight of her words. “I’ll never forget our child, Thandiwe. That loss is something I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life. But as much as it hurts, we can’t hold on to something that’s not meant to be.”

Thandiwe’s lips trembled, but she nodded slowly. “I know you’re right. I’ve known it for a while. I just didn’t want to face it.”

A long silence hung between us, thick with the unspoken emotions we had carried for too long. I looked down at her, wanting to offer some comfort, even though I knew it would never be enough.

“I hope you find peace, Thandiwe,” I said softly. “I really do.”

She gave me a sad smile, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I hope you do too, Sbanisethu. I hope you and Hlelolwenkosi can find your way.”

I nodded, feeling the finality of the moment. “Thank you,” I whispered.

With one last glance, I turned and walked toward the door, my heart heavy but certain of the path I was choosing. As I stepped out into the hallway, a wave of emotion washed over me, but this time it wasn’t confusion or regret. It was closure. I had said goodbye to Thandiwe, to the dreams we had once shared, and now it was time to focus on rebuilding my life with Hlelolwenkosi.

As I made my way back to my car, I felt the weight of my choices settling on my shoulders. I had hurt people, made mistakes, but now I was determined to make things right. For once, I knew where I was going. And this time, I wasn’t running away.