Oyama: Her Story

CHAPTER 45

“Hi, I brought you breakfast in bed,” he says.
He still does this thing of waking up early every morning.
“Really? What did you make?”
It’s eggs and Russians with Tea and Toast. I stand up and go to the bathroom. I don’t even know what time it is. When I come back he’s sitting on the bed, his eyes all over the place.
Something is wrong.
I pick a fork and knife up and start eating.
“What time is it? Where’s my phone,” I ask.
Normally, the alarm clock wakes me at 6 am. He doesn’t answer. I look around the bedroom, I don’t see it anywhere.
“I must have left it downstairs last night,” I say.
He looks relieved.
“No, it was here next to me when we went to sleep, I remember I sent Phiwe a message just before I slept,”
He’s quiet.
Oh, well.
I’ll look for it later. He’s a bit anxious.
“Is something wrong?” I ask. 
“Nothing” he says and smiles.
There’s a sound of a phone vibrating. It’s not his. His is on the bed, and it’s not vibrating. He ignores it.
“Is that my phone vibrating?” I ask.
“What phone? I don’t hear anything,”
What is going on with him?
“Qhawe give me my phone, I can see it moving in your pocket” I say.
Why would he hide my phone? He stands up and walks to stand by the door.
“Bro stop being weird and just give me my phone” I say.
He walks away. What the fuck! I follow him. He stops and raises his hands. I pull it out of his pocket. He stands still. So many missed calls and messages?
I look up at him.
“Baby,” he says.
What on earth is going on here?

I open my phone and look at all the messages, most of the calls are from Phiwe, “Your brother hasn’t seen the Articles but its only a matter of time”.
What?
“What’s going on?” I ask him.
He’s quiet.
WHAT THE FUCK DUDE? I scroll at the articles. There’s a picture of me.
“What the…??” He tries to snatch the phone from my hand.
“You don’t have to read that…..” It’s a picture of a tabloid front page at the Gala last night with him.

‘Introducing the newest member of the Kolobe family: Dr. Oyamakuhle Mtyhobile, the fiancée of the Kolobe clan’s heir. She’s a surprising choice, especially considering the heir’s past high-profile relationship with Tinyiko Ntlhabanye—now Mrs. Mthembu. While Dr. Mtyhobile isn’t traditionally considered a head-turner, there’s no denying her presence carries a quiet strength and authenticity. Known for his taste in partners who look straight off the covers of glossy magazines, Qhawe’s choice has certainly raised eyebrows. But perhaps this time, the Kolobe clan has gained more than just a pretty face—they’ve gained someone who truly embodies the spirit of the family name. A real Kolobe…’

I stop reading. I can’t anymore. What did I do to these people?
I lower the phone, my hand trembling as I look at Qhawe. He’s standing by the door, his jaw tight, his hands clenched into fists. His usual confidence is replaced by a tense, almost guilty expression.
"Why didn’t you tell me?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
"I was going to," he says, stepping closer, "But I didn’t want you to wake up to... that."
I stare at him, my anger bubbling beneath the surface, "So you thought hiding my phone and acting weird was the solution?!" 
"It wasn’t like that…”
"Then what was it, Qhawe?" I interrupt, my voice rising, "You thought you could protect me from this? Did you think I wouldn’t find out?!"
He exhales sharply, running a hand over his face, "I wanted to handle it before you saw it…I was tryna fix it before you woke up”

"Fix what exactly?" I say, holding the phone up, "You can’t fix this. These people are ripping me apart, and I haven’t even done anything!"
"You’ve done nothing wrong," he says firmly, closing the distance between us, "This isn’t about you. It’s about them not knowing how to mind their damn business."
"That doesn’t make it hurt any less," I say, my voice breaking, "Why does it feel like I’m being punished for loving you?"
He looks stricken, reaching out to take my hands, but I pull back, tears stinging my eyes.
"You knew this would happen, didn’t you? You knew being with you would come with... this! Is that why you had me put my hand up to show off my engagement ring?"
“No. No. I did that so we could show we are getting married” he says.
“Did you know it could lead to this?!” I ask shouting.
"I knew," he admits quietly, his eyes locking with mine, "But I didn’t care. Because you’re worth more than that shit. You’re my everything. And I thought... I thought I could shield you from the worst of it."
I let out a bitter laugh and mockingly clap, "Well, congratulations, Qhawe. That plan fucking failed miserably."
“Yama, I’ll fix this, I promise…”
“Get out” I say.
“Don’t do this” he says softly.
“I said get out” I start slapping him rapidly, but they seem to un-affect him.
He walks out the room and I fall to the ground and my phone starts whistling again. I pick it up and throw it at the wall shattering it.
The silence that follows the crash of the phone against the wall feels deafening. My chest heaves as I sit on the floor, tears streaming down my face. The pieces of the phone lie scattered across the room, much like how I feel inside—broken, angry, and utterly helpless. I hug my knees to my chest, trying to steady my breath, but it’s no use. Everything feels too loud, too heavy. I close my eyes, and the words from the article echo in my mind. "Not what we expected... an actual Kolobe." My stomach churns. How dare they? How dare they strip me down to nothing more than a spectacle, a comparison?