UNSEEN TIES

Chapter One

I stood in front of the mirror, smoothing out the bodycon dress that hugged my curves in all the right places. The deep emerald fabric clung to my figure, accentuating my hourglass shape, and for once, I didn’t mind the attention it drew. Today was supposed to be special. Turning 21 was a milestone, a day that was meant to feel like a fresh beginning, and I wanted to look the part. After making my bed, I gave myself one last look before heading downstairs.

As I descended the staircase, the smell of bacon and fresh coffee filled the air, bringing a warm sense of comfort that was so typical of mornings at the Jones Estate. This place had been home for as long as I could remember—far away from the chaos of South Africa and my father’s shadowy world. The tall windows let in streams of golden morning light, casting a soft glow over the familiar space.

“Good morning, my darling!” Gogo Jones, my grandmother, greeted me with a wide smile as I stepped into the kitchen. Her silver hair was neatly tied back, and she wore her usual floral apron. She held out her arms, and I walked into her embrace, inhaling her lavender scent. It was the kind of hug that made you feel safe, no matter what.

“Morning, Gogo. Morning, Mkhulu.” I smiled, greeting my grandfather, who was seated at the head of the table, his newspaper spread in front of him.

“Happy birthday, Buhle,” Mkhulu said, his deep voice rich with warmth. He pulled me into a bear hug as I leaned in to kiss his cheek. He was always calm, always steady—the rock of the family.

“Thank you,” I replied softly, taking my seat at the table as Gogo placed a steaming plate of food in front of me. Eggs, bacon, toast—the usual, but somehow it felt extra special today.

We ate quietly at first, the soft clinks of silverware against plates filling the air. I was just about to take a bite of my bacon when my mother cleared her throat, her expression suddenly serious. I glanced up, meeting her eyes, and immediately felt a shift in the atmosphere.

“So, Buhle,” Mom began, her voice gentle but firm, “I think it’s time we talk about something important.”

I tensed, already sensing where this was going. She’d flown in from South Africa not just for my birthday, but for this conversation.

“Time to talk about what?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light, though I felt a knot forming in my stomach.

Mom looked at me, her face softening with that familiar maternal concern. “It’s time for you to come back home to South Africa, to live with us.”

I froze, the fork halfway to my mouth, unsure how to respond. Home. South Africa. It wasn’t like I hadn’t thought about it. I mean, I am Mnqobi Zungu’s daughter, after all. But the thought of leaving the comfort and peace of this estate, this life, to return to a world that felt foreign and dangerous… my emotions twisted in a confusing mess.

“I... I don’t know,” I muttered, placing my fork back down. “South Africa? Just like that?”

Mom nodded, her expression gentle but firm. “Your father and I both agree it’s time, Buhle. You’re 21 now. It’s time for you to reconnect with home, with your brothers, with your roots.”

Before I could even formulate a response, Gogo Jones—bless her heart—quickly intervened, sensing the tension in the room.

“Well, let’s not dwell on that now,” Gogo said brightly, waving her hand as if to sweep the subject away. “We have more pressing matters, like getting you ready for your big day!”

I glanced at her, grateful for the reprieve. “What do you mean, Gogo?”

She smiled, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “A stylist and hairdresser will be here soon to do your hair and makeup, and we have a special birthday dinner planned for tonight. It’s your 21st, after all!”

I blinked, momentarily thrown off. “You did all of that for me?”

“Of course, my angel,” Gogo said, her smile warm. “We want today to be perfect. You deserve it.”

Despite the lingering weight of my mother’s words, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of excitement. Hair, makeup, dinner—it all sounded so glamorous, so celebratory. But in the back of my mind, I knew that the topic of South Africa would come up again, and sooner or later, I’d have to face it.

For now, though, I allowed myself to smile and focus on the day ahead. “Thank you, Gogo. I’m looking forward to it.”

But deep down, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this birthday marked more than just turning 21. It felt like the beginning of something I wasn’t quite ready for—a change that would pull me back to a life I thought I’d left behind.