CHAPTER 62: Mbali’s Calls

 

Mbali’s POV

I tried calling Nomalanga the same night. Straight to voicemail. I told myself she was busy newly married, wrapped in celebration, surrounded by people. I waited an hour and tried again. The phone went straight to voicemail again. By the third call, unease had settled in my chest. The next morning, I tried once more. Still voicemail. Then again that evening. And the day after that. A week passed like this. Then, one morning, I called again. This time, a flat voice answered instead. The number you have dialled does not exist. I stared at my phone, my fingers frozen. I thought about going to her family. About telling them everything I knew, everything I suspected. But I could already see how it would unfold. Questions. Doubt. Defensiveness. Khaya was their new in-law now. His word would weigh more than mine.

And what I had wasn’t proof. It would only cause unnecessary drama. And drama would warn them. The truth was, there was only one person who could make sense of this. Only one person who could ask the right questions, look in the right places, and see what others refused to see. Nomalanga. She had the instinct for truth. The courage to follow it directly. So I waited. I promised myself I would wait for her, or for fate to tilt the scales in my favour. Days passed. I still tried calling, even after the line was dead, as if she might somehow hear me. Each failed attempt felt deliberate. Like someone was erasing paths before I could walk them. Still, I didn’t stop trying. Because I knew one thing with certainty. Silence never lasts forever. And when it breaks, I would be ready.