Oyama: Her Story

CHAPTER 48

I’m laying in the covers in our bedroom. The only reason, I found our room was because, I put an air-tag in my luggage. This house is really confusing even, Nandi said the same thing, and she grew up in a rich family, but even she says her family’s homestead isn’t this big. I thought I’d gotten used to this sprawling house, with its endless hallways and doors that seemed to lead nowhere—or everywhere. But tonight, the grandeur feels suffocating, the silence almost accusing.
The door opens and Qhawe walks in looking tired.
He places his hands on his hips, “You’re still up?” he asks.
“You said, we were gonna talk” I say.
“I did” he nods and puts his hands behind his back, “Alright, let’s hear it. What’s got you upset?” he takes off his shoes and groans in satisfaction and falls onto the bed and props onto his elbows.
“Well Mzi, hasn’t been really nice to Nandi, he keeps threatening to take her baby” I say. “Oyama, what do you want me to do?” he asks.
“I want you to talk to him, get him to stop, its not healthy for her or the baby” I say.
Qhawe sighs heavily, rubbing his face with both hands before sitting up. His expression is a mixture of weariness and irritation, but I know him well enough to recognize the flicker of concern beneath it all. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"Oyama, you know how Mzi is. He doesn’t listen to anyone, especially not me."
I frown, crossing my arms as I sit up straighter, "He’ll listen to you. He respects you, even if he doesn’t show it. And this isn’t just about him being stubborn—he’s hurting Nandi. She’s scared, Qhawe. Every time he so much as walks into the room, she tenses up like she’s bracing for a fight. That’s not okay."
Qhawe tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling as if searching for answers there, "I get it," he says finally, his voice quieter, "I’ll talk to him. But you know how these things go. If he’s already set on being an ass, there’s only so much I can do."
I reach over, placing my hand on his arm, "You’re his brother. He might not say it, but your opinion matters to him. And if you make it clear that this behavior won’t fly, he’ll back off. He has to."

“OK” he drops his head, “I’ll talk to him”
“Thank you”
“Now can we get to the elephant in the room” he says.
I nod, “Why the prenup?”
“Its for you” he says.
“How?” I ask exasperated.
“Well for example, if we have kids, you are the mother of my children, but my family is a family that believes a child belongs to the father, which I believe too” he says.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“If we get divorced, trust me when I say, you will never see our children” he says.
My breath catches in my throat, the weight of Qhawe's words settling over me like a suffocating blanket.
"What...what do you mean I’ll never see our children?"
My voice shakes, anger and fear blending into a knot in my chest. Qhawe looks at me, his gaze steady but heavy with a grim sort of resolve.
"Oyama, my family doesn’t play fair when it comes to matters like this. If things ever went south between us, they’d make sure the children stayed with me. They’d bring every lawyer they have, pull every string, and you’d be left fighting a battle you can’t win."
I stare at him, my heart pounding in my chest.
"So the prenup is... what? Your way of protecting me? Or is it a warning?"
"It’s both," he admits, his tone softening, "The prenup ensures that, in the event something goes wrong, you’re financially secure. But more than that, it’s a way to lay down clear terms—so there’s no misunderstanding about what happens if we part ways."
I shake my head, the frustration bubbling to the surface, "Qhawe, do you even hear yourself? You’re sitting here telling me that your family would take my kids away from me like I’m some stranger. How do you expect me to just accept that? To trust you after hearing something like this?"
He leans forward, his hands clasped tightly together, "Because I’m being honest with you. I’m not sugarcoating it or pretending my family doesn’t have their ways. I’m telling you now, so we can prepare for the worst—even though I don’t want that future any more than you do." "Prepare for the worst?" I repeat bitterly, "Qhawe, I didn’t agree to marry into your family to spend my life preparing for battles I didn’t start. I love you, but this...this is terrifying."
He exhales sharply, running a hand through his head.
"Oyama, I love you. And I’m telling you this because I want to protect you from the chaos my family can bring. The prenup is my way of shielding you from them. But it also comes with hard truths, and this is one of them. If you’re going to be with me, you need to know what you’re walking into."

Silence stretches between us, the weight of his words pressing down on me like a lead blanket. I feel tears prickling at the corners of my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.
“Look you and Phiwe go over it and then see what you don’t like, and then communicate with the number given and you guys renegotiate” he says.
“Let me ask you something” I say.
“Sure” he answers.
“You would really take our children from me?” I ask.
He clears his throat, “I won’t have another man raise my children, I won’t let them teach them what it means to be a man, that’s my job, and I won’t have another man raising my children in his home, with his custom, ngeke” he shakes his head.
The room feels unbearably still, the weight of Qhawe’s words settling between us like an immovable wall. My throat tightens, my heart pounding so loud I’m sure he can hear it. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but his answer is everything I feared and worse. I nod slowly, more to myself than to him.
"So that’s it then," I say, my voice barely above a whisper, "You’ve already decided how it would play out. You’ve thought about a future where we aren’t together, and in that future, I’m nothing but a visitor in my own children’s lives—or worse, not even that."
His brow furrows, his expression torn between guilt and frustration.
"Oyama, don’t do this," he says, his voice soft but firm, "You’re twisting my words. I don’t want that future. I don’t even want to think about it. But I have to be realistic about who I am, who my family is, and what they expect of me. I’m not saying it’s fair, but it’s the truth."
"The truth," I repeat bitterly, my voice cracking, "The truth is that you’re asking me to sign away not just my rights, but my trust. You want me to believe you’d protect me, protect us, but how can I when you’ve made it clear where your loyalties lie?"
His jaw tightens, and he runs a hand over his face, clearly frustrated, "Oyama, I’m trying to protect you from them. You think I don’t know how messed up this is? You think I don’t hate that this is even a conversation we have to have? But this isn’t just about me and you—it’s about the reality of what it means to be a part of my family."
I let out a humorless laugh, shaking my head.
"You keep saying ‘your family,’ as if I’m not supposed to be a part of it too. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? I’ll always be an outsider to them. No matter how much I love you, no matter how much I give, they’ll always see me as someone they have to control, someone who doesn’t belong."
"You belong with me," he says fiercely, leaning forward, his eyes locking onto mine, "And that’s all that matters."
"But it’s not," I snap, the tears I’d been holding back finally spilling over, "Because if it were, you’d be telling your family to back off instead of telling me to prepare for the worst. You’d be fighting for me, for us, instead of handing me a prenup and expecting me to just smile and sign it."
Qhawe looks away, his hands clasped tightly together. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, and the silence between us feels deafening. Finally, he speaks, his voice quieter, almost pleading.
"Oyama, I can’t change who I am or where I come from. I can’t change what my family believes. But I can promise you this—I will never let anyone hurt you or take you for granted. Not my family, not anyone. You’re the woman I love, the woman I want to spend my life with. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work."
I wipe at my tears, my chest aching with the weight of everything unsaid, "And what about me, Qhawe? What am I supposed to do? Just sit here and hope that your promises are enough to protect me from your family? Hope that you’ll choose me when it matters most?"
"You don’t have to hope," he says, reaching for my hand again.
This time, I let him take it, though my fingers feel limp in his grasp.
"You just have to trust me. And I know I’ve made that harder tonight, but I swear to you, Oyama, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that you can” he says, “Can we please go to bed now” I nod. He crawls towards me and kisses my cheek, and heads into the bathroom to take a shower.

-----

The bed lumps up on the side he was laying on, I open my eyes and Qhawe is up, I look outside and it’s still dark. I grab my phone and its half past 3 in the morning.
“Where you going?” I ask.
He looks back, “I didn’t mean to wake you” he says.
“Its OK, where you going?” I ask.
“It’s a Ranch babe, we need to go to work” he says.
“OH” I nod, “You still driving me home right?”
“Yes” he says and walks to the shower and the shower starts pouring water. I lay back down and close my eyes.
Something presses my cheek, “I love you” he whispers.
“I love you too” I say and the door opens and closes.
The door opens again, and light shines in my eyes, I look at the time its half past 4. I look and Qhawe is walking into the room, I roll over to look at him, “Why are you back?” I ask.
“I remembered, I’m not gonna see you for a week, I wanna smell like you, before you leave” he says and takes of his boots and gets back into bed.
He’s so weird sometimes, but I think that’s why I love him so much. he pulls me closer to him.
My alarm rings so it must be 6am and the sun is up. I roll out of bed and then head to the shower and step in.
He steps in behind me, “Didn’t you just take a shower?” I ask.
“Yeah, but now I’m taking a shower with you” he says.
I smile, last year around October, this is how we made our relationship official.
In a shower, with warm water and me pressed against the glass, like I am right now.

The steam fogs up the glass, wrapping us in a cocoon of warmth. Qhawe's arms encircle my waist as he pulls me close, his skin hot against mine. The sound of the water cascading around us fades into the background as his lips find my shoulder, planting slow, deliberate kisses along the curve of my neck.
I tilt my head back, letting out a soft sigh as his hands explore, gentle but possessive. His touch is familiar, yet every time feels like the first. He traces a path down my back, his fingers leaving a trail of heat that makes me shiver despite the warmth of the water.
"Remember this?" he murmurs against my skin, his voice low and filled with a playful intimacy that sends a thrill through me.
"How could I forget?" I whisper, my hands sliding up his chest to rest against his shoulders, "It was the start of everything."
He smiles, his forehead pressing against mine as he looks into my eyes.
"Best decision I ever made," he says softly, the sincerity in his voice making my heart ache in the best way.
I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer as the water cascades over us, "You’re so corny," I tease, though my voice betrays how much his words mean to me.
"Maybe," he admits with a grin before his lips capture mine in a kiss that’s anything but playful. The kiss deepens, growing more urgent as the world outside the shower fades away. His hands grip my hips, pulling me against him as he presses me gently but firmly against the glass.
The cool surface contrasts with the heat of his body, sending a shiver through me that he immediately notices.

We are walking downstairs his arm around my shoulder we walk into the kitchen the Kitchen smells weird, what is that smell.
The smell is unfamiliar and its not nice, “What is that?” I ask.
He looks unbothered, “Its porridge for when everyone gets back from the morning chores” he says.
“Porridge that smells like that?” I ask.
“Yeah, ke Ting” he says.
“What?”
“Ting, it’s a Sour Porridge” he says as we walk into the kitchen and find his mom at the kitchen island on her phone making a call and her iPad is placed on the island. Looks like she’s working. She smiles at us and waves, “Yeah, ok. We’ll talk about it later” she says and hangs up, “Hello” “Hi” we both say.
My face is betraying me, my face is unable to hide my disgust for this smell.
“Your gonna love Ting” his mom says.
I shake my head, “You will, and we need to teach you how to cook porridge, I don’t want my grandbabies skinny and thin” we both start laughing, “Your laughing, but I’m serious”
“Qhawe knows how to cook, he can cook for our babies” I say.
She looks at me and bats her eyelashes slowly, “I mean he is a chef, he has more experience, than me” I say and she still bats her eyes slowly, “I’ll learn” I fold.
“Great, oh my God, I’ll teach you on our way to you home” she says.
“I thought Qhawe was taking me?” I ask.
“Yeah, ma” he says.
“Mkwenyana and Makoti don’t drive when their weddings are so close” she says.
Well there goes our quality time we were planning to spend together.