Chapter 2: The Successful Woman

 

Narrated by Mapaseka

My house is too big for one person. I noticed that the day I moved in. Back then, I told myself it was worth it, space meant success, and silence meant peace. Luxury meant I had made it. But no one warns you that success can echo. That night, I arrived home alone, as usual. The gate opened automatically, like it knew me but did not welcome me. The driveway lights switched on one by one, guiding me into a life that looks perfect from the outside.

A life people envy and assume is full, but I have learned something about assumptions , they lie.

I stepped out of my car and the only sound was my heels against polished stone. The house was quiet. Too quiet. Even the air inside felt expensive and distant, like it did not belong to me either.

“I am in my house” I said softly.

No one answered, there was no one to answer. I walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, not because I was hungry, but because I needed noise. Even the soft hum of the fridge  felt better than silence. I poured myself a glass of water and stood there. This is what success looks like. No chaos, noise and interruption just me. I used to think being alone meant freedom, now I am not so sure. I walked through my house slowly, living room, dining room, and my office. Guest rooms that no one has ever slept in. Everything is clean, perfect and unused. In my bedroom, I sat on the edge of my bed and removed my shoes. That’s when the thought came again. Like it always does when I slow down enough to hear it. Why is no one here with me? And immediately, I pushed it away. Because I already know the answer people will give me.

“You are intimidating, too successful and too independent. ”

That word has followed me longer than any man ever has. I stood up and walked to the mirror. I looked at myself properly. I am a woman who looks like she has everything under control. But control is not the same as peace. I touched the edge of the mirror lightly. I said quietly to myself. I am not the problem. But even as I said it, I wasn’t fully convinced. Because I have noticed something strange. Men look at me like I am a challenge, not a person. They admire me from a distance, then disappear when they realize I do not need saving. Or they come closer and try to shrink me.

So I stay alone not because I cannot be loved. But because I have not yet met someone who does not feel threatened by me. I walked back to the kitchen and placed my glass in the sink. Outside, Johannesburg glowed in the distance. Other homes, people  are probably laughing, arguing, being held and  understood. I turned off the lights one by one. Kitchen, living room and hallway. Until the house became what it always becomes at night. A beautiful silence. I stood in the dark for a moment. Then whispered: “Maybe it is not that I am too much” I paused. “maybe I am just not where I belong yet.” And I went to bed alone again. Like I always do.