Not Your Typical Fairytale (Complete)

Prologue

What is a fairy-tale?

That's a question that's always weighed heavily on my mind until I met my husband. 10-year-old me would tell you that a fairy-tale is a story about things that don't exist but have a beautiful ending. 16-year-old me would have told you that a fairy-tale is meeting a man that sweeps you off your feet and does everything your heart desires, and you never have to work a day in your life. And 20-year-old me would tell you that we all have different kinds of fairytales; yes, it may not be your usual Cinderella type of fairytale, but that doesn't mean it's not one!

Who am I?

That is a good question actually. Who is Ayola Majola?

I always answer the question with, "Ask me what you want to know, and I'll answer you honestly." Why? Because I can't define myself in words. It's like trying to capture the ocean in a teacup—impossible. I find it hard to filter out which details about me I'm supposed to disclose and which ones not to.

Ayola Majola, that's me. I'm 20, a rich kid, or as some might say, a spoilt brat. You could call me a slay queen if you want because I dress to kill. I'm your typical Instagram beauty with over a million followers. But don't let the looks fool you; I'm smart. I'm studying Law at UKZN Howard campus in Durban. I'm Xhosa, so naturally, I've got a bit of extra attitude. Originally from East London in the Eastern Cape, but my parents' jobs brought us to Durban. I've got an older brother, Aphiwe. He's 23, working as a technician at our father's company in Joburg. You'll learn more about me as time goes on...

Does that give you an idea of who I am? Or do you need more? Oh right.

My parents, I'd love to tell you what they do for a living, but even I can't pinpoint their jobs. They're always traveling out of the country, never around. All I know is my mother studied medicine, and my father studied business management. Now they have a hospital and companies all over. So you get what I mean when I say I don't know what they do. None of us have a relationship with them. Every time I need a mother, I go to Mamu'Gloria, and if I need a father, I go to Babu'John; they take care of the servants in our mansion in Ballito.

So yeah, that's me, and the rest you'll know with time.

I have three friends: Steve Martins, a fabulous gay guy studying Clothing Management at DUT; Connie Williams, studying Law with me at the same university; and my best friend Simnikiwe "Simmy" Maqoma, who's in Free State doing Analytical Chemistry. So yeah, that's my life, and by the way, I don't have a boyfriend. I'll tell you what happened later on.

"A-Y-O-L-A," my brother shouted, making his way towards my room. He knows how much I hate him shouting.

We were flying down to the Eastern Cape for December holidays to our grandparents' place. Mind you, I've never spent Christmas in the Eastern Cape; normally, it's just a weekend or a week but never the whole of December.

"I'll be out in a second," I said, tying my weave up in a messy bun, sitting in front of my mirror.

"Seriously!" he said, opening the door. I looked at him through the mirror and just smiled.

"I know. I'm almost done," I said, applying lipstick.

"You can do your face in the car. We have to go before we miss our flight again."

I rolled my eyes. Yeah, sure, we missed our flight yesterday, but that was not my fault. If Mom had sent the money for my weave earlier, we wouldn't have had to stay at the salon that long. See? Mom's fault.

"Take my bags to the car, I'll be there in a sec," I said, getting up from my chair.

"Hurry up, Ayola!" he said, dragging my bags. I looked at him and walked to the bathroom. I took a few things and then walked out. I met up with Mamu'Gloria on my way out of my room.