UNSEEN TIES

Chapter Eight

Today was the day. The day I would leave the only home I had known for the past twenty-one years. As the sun rose, casting a soft glow through my bedroom window, I couldn’t shake the heavy feeling in my chest. The air was thick with an unspoken sadness, and I knew that this morning would not be easy.

After getting dressed, I made my way downstairs, where the scent of breakfast lingered in the air, but the usual warmth of my grandparents’ home felt different. Gogo was bustling about, her movements a little slower than usual, and Grandpa sat at the table, staring off into space as if lost in thought.

“Good morning, Ndalo,” Gogo said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Morning, Gogo. Morning, Khulu,” I replied softly, taking my seat at the table. I picked at my food, my appetite lost amidst the anxiety and sadness swirling within me.

As we ate in relative silence, the reality of the day ahead sank in deeper. After breakfast, we spent the next hour packing the last of my belongings and checking my travel documents one last time. Every minute that ticked by felt heavier, and soon it was time to say goodbye.

We stood in the foyer, my suitcase at my feet, as I looked at the two people who had given me so much love and support. Gogo stepped forward, wrapping her arms around me tightly.

“Promise you’ll take care of yourself, Ndalo,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“I will, Gogo. I promise,” I said, fighting back tears. I didn’t want to break down now, not when I needed to be strong.

Grandpa joined in, pulling me into a hug that felt like home. “Remember, you’re not alone. We’re always here for you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

As I pulled away, I looked at their tear-filled eyes, and my own heart shattered. I never realized how hard it would be to leave them behind. We shared more hugs, more tears, and more whispered reassurances, but nothing could lessen the weight of what this day meant.

Finally, we made our way outside, where the Zungu Private Jet awaited me. The sleek aircraft stood proudly on the tarmac, a stark reminder that my life was about to change in ways I could hardly comprehend. As we walked toward the plane, I glanced back at my grandparents, the sadness etched on their faces carving a permanent mark in my heart.

Once we reached the steps of the jet, I turned to face them one last time. “I love you both so much,” I said, my voice shaking.

“We love you too, Ndalo,” Gogo replied, her hand over her heart.

“Be safe, and don’t forget to call,” Grandpa added, trying to muster a smile.

With one final wave, I climbed the steps and stepped inside the aircraft. I took a seat by the window, watching as my grandparents stood together, holding hands, their figures growing smaller as the distance between us increased. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I forced myself to look away, trying to focus on the excitement of what lay ahead.

As the engines roared to life and we taxied down the runway, I couldn’t shake the feeling of leaving a piece of my heart behind. My grandparents were my foundation, and the thought of navigating this new chapter without their constant support was daunting.

But as the plane lifted off the ground and soared into the sky, I reminded myself that this was not just about leaving. This was about starting anew, about taking the leap into the unknown. The Zungu family awaited me, and while I felt the weight of my past, I also felt a glimmer of hope for what was to come.

Soon, South Africa would be my reality, and with it, the chance to carve out my own path. I wiped my tears and took a deep breath, preparing myself for the adventure that lay ahead.