SHATTERED DREAMS

CHAPTER TWELVE

Sbanisethu left Thandiwe's hospital room, his heart heavy with conflicting emotions. The sterile smell clung to him as he walked down the long, dimly lit corridor, his mind racing. He had promised to take care of her, but the truth gnawed at him, leaving him feeling lost. His feet carried him almost unconsciously to the nearest bar, where he ordered drink after drink, trying to drown the pain and confusion. But the alcohol only amplified his emotions, turning the ache in his chest into a sharp, unbearable agony.

As the night wore on, Sbanisethu’s thoughts drifted back to Hlelolwenkosi. The weight of everything he had lost—his child, his marriage, and perhaps the love he never fully realized he needed—came crashing down. Before he knew it, he was standing outside her apartment. His heart raced, both from the alcohol coursing through his system and the raw emotion that had overtaken him. He knocked, his hand trembling, unsure if she would even answer.

When the door opened, Hlelolwenkosi stood there, her eyes wide with surprise. “Sbanisethu?” she whispered, her voice laced with concern.

Without thinking, he stepped forward, his words tumbling out in a slurred mess of sorrow and regret. "I lost the baby... our baby with Thandiwe... I don’t know what to do. I’m so lost, Hlelo."

She stood there for a moment, stunned, before gently pulling him inside. His words were a tangled web of guilt, grief, and confusion. He collapsed onto her couch, tears flowing freely as he poured his heart out. Hlelolwenkosi sat beside him, listening silently as the man she had once loved—maybe still loved—crumbled before her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Hlelo,” he choked out, his face buried in his hands. “I thought I could move on, but I can’t. I ruined everything.”

Hlelolwenkosi hesitated for a moment before placing a comforting hand on his back. “You’re hurting, Sbanisethu. But running from one thing to another isn’t going to make the pain go away.”

He nodded, though he could barely process her words. In that moment, all he wanted was comfort, and Hlelolwenkosi was the only person who could offer it. They talked late into the night, Sbanisethu’s tears eventually giving way to exhaustion. Without even realizing it, he fell asleep on her couch, his mind and heart too heavy to carry any longer.

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the curtains, and Sbanisethu woke up to the sound of his phone buzzing. His head throbbed from the night before, and his mouth felt dry as sandpaper. As he reached for his phone, he noticed Hlelolwenkosi watching him from the kitchen, concern etched across her face.

His phone buzzed again, and when he finally answered, it was his family. "Sbanisethu," his mother’s voice came through the speaker, stern and unforgiving. "There’s a family meeting today. You and Hlelolwenkosi need to come. This marriage isn't ending."

Sbanisethu’s heart sank. He wanted to protest, to argue, but he knew it would be futile. His family’s word was law, and deep down, he knew this was coming.

By the time he and Thandiwe arrived at the family meeting later that afternoon, the tension was palpable. Both families were gathered around the table, their faces stern, with an air of finality in the room.

“We’ve thought long and hard about this situation,” Sbanisethu’s father began, his voice steady. “This marriage will not end. Divorce is not an option.”

Sbanisethu’s heart raced as he exchanged a glance with Hlelolwenkosi , who sat silently beside him, her expression unreadable.

“Marriage is not something you can throw away because times are hard,” his mother added. “You two will make this work, and we will support you.”

Just when Sbanisethu thought the conversation was over, one of the elders turned to Hlelolwenkosi. “As for the business deal with your family,” he said, his voice softening slightly, “there’s something you need to know. We never withdrew from the deal.”

Hlelolwenkosi’s head snapped up. “What?” he asked, confusion washing over him.

“We had our reasons for keeping things quiet,” the elder explained. “But we honored the agreement. Your family still holds a stake in the business, Hlelolwenkosi.”

The room fell silent as the weight of those words settled in. Sbanisethu’s mind swirled with questions, but none of them made sense. Everything he thought he knew had just been turned upside down, and now, more than ever, he felt trapped in a life he no longer recognized.

The meeting ended with no real resolution—only a command to make the marriage work, no matter what. As Sbanisethu left with Hlelolwenkosi, the sense of inevitability loomed over him. He had lost his child.