Zamageda his heart

Chapter 33

I stand at the kitchen island, dinner sizzling on the stove as I try to shake off the frustration of another fruitless day searching for our perfect home. At least Smanga's influence has secured the girls' spot at a good school; they seem to be settling in well. "Mommy, here," Namisa chimes, pushing her iPad across the counter, Zipho's face filling the screen. My stomach knots. We've been at odds all week, every conversation devolving into a fight. I roll my eyes, hesitant to engage.

"Zama," he greets, his tone neutral, but I sense the underlying tension. "Hi," I reply flatly, my guard up. "iFile iphone yakho?" he asks, feigning nonchalance, but I detect a hint of irritation. "No, I'm just ignoring it," I say nonchalantly, stirring the pot with a bit too much force. "Any luck finding a house?" he asks, changing the subject. "No, but I have a few places to check in Fresnaye with Landiwe," I reply, bracing for his reaction. His expression darkens, his eyes narrowing. "Awuyi lapho! We're not moving to Fresnaye."

I feel a surge of defiance. "Why not? It's closer to work and the school. Landiwe and Minnie are nearby; it'll make adjusting easier." his face twists in anger. "You're going to make this difficult, aren't you? Mawhluleka ukuthola indlu; I'll ask Lucinda to go with you." His condescending tone ignites my fury. "I see nothing wrong with Fresnaye! You can't dictate who I befriend, Zipho."He sneers. " You had no friends in Kimberley, and you did just fine. uzojwayela namanje"Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I refuse to back down. "That was different! Having friends close will help me adapt."

His voice turns menacing. "Keep going against my word, ngeke sizwane. I am your husband; kukhala esami iscathulo." My laughter is laced with incredulity. "My husband? You're my fiancé, Zipho – fiancé!" his eyes flash. "Sizokhuluma mase ubuyelwe ingqondo, Zama." The screen goes black as he hangs up. I slam the iPad onto the counter, tears streaming down my face. This is our reality now – constant battles, no resolution. The root of his issue with Landiwe remains a mystery, but I know one thing: this can't continue.

After dinner, I help the girls settle in bed before catching up with Nyezi, updating her on my luck – or lack thereof – and the arguments that have ensued. "Zonke iynsuku ungifunza lo Landiwe wakho; don't you get tired?" she asks, her monotone invalidating every emotion I have."Tired of what?" I retort, frustration simmering.She waves her hand dismissively. "Are you ever going to tell me what happened?" I press, tears clouding my eyes."She's your friend; buza yena," she cuts me off, changing the subject to the kids. We talk until exhaustion claims me, and she lets me sleep.The next morning, I drive the kids to school and head to Landiwe's apartment.

 Minenhle gave me directions, but I'm still surprised by the posh neighbourhood. Lavish homes surround me, and I wonder how Landiwe afforded this on her internship salary. Maybe she got a loan?I ring the intercom, and she takes her time answering. She greets me in gym wear, her shock poorly concealed. "Zama!". "Hiii!" I exclaim, leaning in for a hug, but her response is cold and unwelcoming."Can I come in?" I ask after an awkward five-minute stare."Oh, yes, sorry; I'm just surprised to see you here," she says, ushering me in.

Her apartment leaves me awestruck, but I notice similarities to Nyezi's place – the furniture, view, and art placement. "I wasn't expecting to see you here," she says, leading me to the balcony."I thought we could do brunch," I suggest, trying to deflect the awkwardness."Okay, I'll order in," she replies, walking away.The familiar scent of her place puzzles me; it's not the empty diffusers scattered around. She returns with champagne and glasses. "It's non-alcoholic," she assures, pouring me a glass."Your home is beautiful," I compliment. She tenses, her smile strained. "Thank you."As we sit on the balcony, sipping champagne, I sense underlying tension.