Oyama: Her Story

CHAPTER 53

After another 3 months of stressing the final week is here. The week of our wedding by a week I mean 10 days to go, Lebohang and Moqhaka are done writing and now they are on Holiday.
Babies have this way of bringing people together, never thought it was true until I saw how, Mzi and Nandi’s relationship improved. Nkosana is his best friend and so is Nandi. It came as a great shock, because the first 3 weeks he didn’t wanna even carry, Nkosana.
Then one day while they were over, he walked past the crib and just looked at Nkosana deeply and just lifted him, and he started smiling and laughing, because he said the boy looked exactly like him and Mazwi as a baby.
I mean given they are twins it can be done, he still hasn’t apologized for the way he was treating Nandi, but we all feel like if you told him too, you’ll be pushing it.
Right now we are a week before the wedding and its crazy to think that every time I have been to their home.
I have never even once rode on a horse and I’m not going to. The construction site that was gonna be used to, make a subdivision and Mall, is now barren and now his family owns it, the whole place.
His father is thinking of building another Grain Silo and turn that area into a cornfield that man is always thinking about the next hustle.
I wonder if he ever sits down and says, ‘Hey maybe this is enough’ I highly doubt it.
He’s probably thinking about the next thing that increases his family’s wealth. I wish my dad was here to see this.
Wow.
My dad isn’t here.
He’s not gonna walk me down the aisle.

The thought of my father not being here hit me like a wave. It had been on the edges of my mind for months, but now, with the wedding just days away, it felt raw, like an ache I couldn’t ignore.
I could almost see him, his broad shoulders, his proud smile, his deep voice telling me I was the most beautiful bride he'd ever seen. He would’ve been so proud of the life I’ve built—the family, the love, the chaos of it all.
And now, as I prepared to take this monumental step, his absence felt like a gaping hole in an otherwise perfect moment.
I blinked back tears, taking a deep breath.
There was no time to spiral, not with everything else going on. Qhawe’s father was still finalizing last-minute logistics with Mogale and Qhawe, and Olwethu was coordinating with the catering team.
Everyone was in motion, and I couldn’t let myself fall apart.
But later that evening, when the house was quiet, I found myself alone in the kitchen, staring at a cup of tea I’d made but hadn’t touched.
Memories of my father came flooding back—the way he used to laugh, the warmth in his eyes when he looked at me, the way he always said, “Oyama, you’re going to conquer the world someday, and I’ll be right there cheering you on.”
I didn’t hear his father come in until he spoke, “You’re quiet tonight,” he said gently, pulling out a chair beside me.

I gave him a small smile, “Just thinking.”
He sat down, reaching for my hand, “About your dad?”
I nodded, swallowing hard, “It’s just...he was supposed to be here for this, you know? To walk me down the aisle, to tell me he’s proud of me. It feels wrong that he’s not.”
His father squeezed my hand, his expression tender, “I know it’s not the same, but your dad is here.” He says, “You know my biggest wish, after having 4 boys was that God would bless me with a daughter, when my wife was pregnant with Lebohang, but he didn’t, but if I could build a daughter, I would use you as the blue print, you are smart, kind, thoughtful, respectful” he says, “I know I am stepping out of line, but you are my daughter as well, not my daughter in-law, you are my daughter” he stands up.

His words stunned me into silence, and for a moment, I couldn’t respond. The way he looked at me, with a mixture of pride and sincerity, made my chest tighten with emotion.
He was always so composed, so focused on his work and family legacy, yet here he was, laying his heart bare in a way I had never seen before.
“I don’t know what to say,” I finally managed, my voice barely above a whisper.
He smiled softly, his usual stern expression softened with warmth, “You don’t have to say anything, Oyama. Just know that we’re family. And when you walk down that aisle, whether your father is here physically or not, you’re surrounded by people who love you deeply. That’s what matters.”
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I stood up and wrapped my arms around him.
He stiffened slightly, clearly not used to such displays of affection, but then he relaxed and hugged me back.
It wasn’t the hug of a father-in-law or even a future father-in-law—it was the embrace of a parent.
“Thank you,” I whispered against his shoulder.