Forbidden Relations

Chapter 2: Dangerous Beginnings 🔞

"Now as I,lay me down to sleep,I pray the Lord my soul to keep,my soul to keep"-Zonke Dikana ft. Kwesta_Soul To Keep

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Waking up today didn't feel any different than all the other days off my life. I literally dragged myself around like a zombie.

I reached out blindly for my phone besides my small beside drawer. Turning it on as the light instantly blinded my sleepy eyes as I squinted at the screen. No missed calls, no messages, zilch, nada. The story of my life.

Most people would wake up to a good morning or a simple hi, but not for me. That was mainly my fault because I didn't have time to entertain any kind of a relationship, romantic or friendly.

But that doesn't mean that I'm a nun. I've popped my cheery, not really a moment worth remembering as it was all fast, messy and over before I knew it, and I have had several partners here and there. But nothing long term.

Committment wasn't my cup of tea and I just came to the conclusion that I'm not really worth a guy making his "exclusive" girlfriend.

And besides relationship are so overrated nowadays, with people posting up couple goals or marriage goals which they really don't have. Everything is for show for the world. Like an advert on TV we only market and display what is good about our lives leaving out the ugly, shameful bits.

Speaking of commitments though I had to get myself to church. I grew up in a religious household also waking up to a fulfilling breakfast then we dressed in our best before making our way to the community church. We were devoted believers of Christ but at the same time we also embraced our ancestors.

Personally speaking for myself I was the one sibling who loved and embraced my ancestors more in a way. I loved listening to the stories that my father used to tell me of our traditions, the meaning and significance of the  rituals we perform as well as our clan background as the Dlamini's. It made me proud of myself, my ethnicity, it was simply intriguing and beautiful in my view.

I had a shower, after that lotioning my body and got dressed in a black flare dress that was just above my knees, sheer black stockings covered my legs and I slipped my feet into black pump heels.

Making myself a bowl of cornflakes, I left them in the milk to soak. I liked them that way ever since I was a child. Smiling to myself I remember when my sister Sne used to make a disgusted face asking me how I could I possibly eat them when they were soggy like that but I loved them that way.

To pass some time I decided to do research for a business management 301 assignment I had due in a few weeks. The one thing I was greatful for at this res was the WiFi because when I wasn't researching for my assignments I was binge watching series on Netflix.

About 30 minutes later after I saved some offline pages of my research to review later I munched on my now soggy cornflakes enjoying them as I hummed. I then washed my bowl along with last nights dishes and placed them to dry out on the dish rack.

With my coat fitting snugly around me I grabbed my side bag, which still contained the untouched envelope of the only money I had to my name. What a shame. Slinging it across my shoulder as I stepped out of my room, passing by the other students who were out in the corridors soaking up the winter sun with mugs in their hands curing last night's hangovers.

Usually I walked to the church, but I was feeling rather lazy so I waited at the bus stop for about a good 15 minutes before I got into a taxi, sitting alone in the backseat.

I swear to you people have this thing about not wanting to sit in the back seat. One being that is quite uncomfortable especially in those old taxis which we like to call i'square because you knees kiss the seat infront of you and you head bumps onto the roof if you are tall and please don't get me started on the hump on the window side caused my the tyre. If you know you know.

And Lord bless your soul if you are skinny or small built because the big mamas will sit right on top of you, squashing you in like sardines in a tin. I rarely could afford Uber or Bolt, it was more of a luxury in my life to request unlike the campus slay queens who had no problem making 5 trips in a day.

After paying my taxi fare I counted the rest of the money I was left with in the envelope.

And why was it still in that brown thing in the first place?. And my answer is simple, I was too damn lazy and feeling sorry for myself to put it in my wallet.

R1560...R1560 I repeat in my head, mind you it's only the 5th today, and I need to stretch this until the end of the month. I guess it's gonna be 2 minute noodles and tin beans for a while now, making a mental note to pass by Pick n' Pay after church is over.

I needed to put this money to good use. Starting off by getting that textbook for economics that costs around R350. Ridiculous I know, but worth the sacrifice because this was the final year and I was laying it all on the line.

"Bless the Lord oh my soul ohhhhh my soul..." We sing along with the choir. Hands lifted up in praise as we each marveled to ourselves of God's grace upon our lives. After the song we are seated. I'm seating in the second last row, not really one to mingle with the front row of church goers who acted like true devotees but outside these church walls reveal who they truely are.

Take for example Mr Nkosi, a high school teacher who is married to a beautiful women called Zanele (Za-neh-leh). They have 2 adorable kids. In church they play the happy, loving family but it's not really that way because so happened to bump into Zanele kissing another man in a shopping mall parking lot.

But oh well it's none of my business and I'm not a saint either. With that being said Zanele looks my way before casting me a deathly glare if I dare to tell her beloved husband, I simply roll my eyes and focus on the pastor preaching about faithfulness. Zanele should pay attention. Poor woman nearly pissed in her pants when she saw me staring at her that day. Hypocrite.

"Now my before we close of this sermon I'd like to bring up to stage Mr Khoza who has so kindly donated to our church for its building renovations", boomed Pastor Shabalala's voice thorough the speakers.

It wasn't really much often that we'd have any different people at the church, especially donators so everybody spoke in hushed tones awaiting this Mr Khoza to take the stage.

From the corner of the stage I watched in awe just like the rest of the church memebers as a well built yet older man with muscles bulging in all right places walked up to the speaker. His grey suit moulded his body deliciously, his skin flawless and a perfect shade of brown.

Then he spoke. A voice so deep, yet tantalizing low with command and authority.

Ladies and gentlemen I think I just found my daddy.

Forgive me father for I have sinned.

A/N:

Oh boy Mahle🤭 girl slow your roll...

Dah...Dah...Dah... things are going to get interesting 🤫

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Let's us stop the gender based violence against our women and children 🙏

Until next time✌️♥️