Chapter 4: Between Loss and Becoming
1022 Words
Twelve years ago, I lost my sister.
Even now, the sentence still feels unreal when I think it.
Asakhe was fifteen and I was twelve—my older sister, my only sibling, my closest companion in a house that was always too quiet or too strict to feel warm.
We did everything together.
Then one day, she said she was tired.
Just tired.
She went to sleep and never woke up again.
By nightfall, she was rushed to the hospital.
By morning, she was gone.
And nothing in our home was ever the same.
My parents broke in ways I don’t think they ever repaired.
And somewhere along the way, I learned how to exist quietly.
How to take up less space.
How not to need too much from people already drowning in their own grief.
Until Lisa came into my life at varsity and reminded me that I was still allowed to be seen.
Still allowed to matter.
⸻
The shower helped more than I expected.
Warm water. Quiet steam. A moment where I didn’t have to perform strength.
Today, I was going back home.
To finalise dowry discussions.
To step closer to becoming someone’s wife.
Even though no one had formally explained everything to me, I already understood how things worked in my culture.
Once the elders agreed, everything else followed.
Meetings.
Introductions.
Marriage.
Finality.
I stared at my reflection after stepping out of the shower.
You’re fine, I told myself.
But I wasn’t sure I believed it.
Or when I stopped feeling like I had a choice in any of it.
⸻
My phone rang two hours after I woke up.
My mother’s voice.
“We’re flying at ten.”
Of course we were.
No pause.
No conversation.
Just movement.
I packed quickly, leaving most of my belongings behind.
The apartment was mine, yes—but it suddenly felt like a place I was exiting, not returning from.
At the airport, I stayed quiet.
Even when my parents spoke.
Even when they didn’t.
⸻
So this was it.
In less than twenty-four hours, I would officially be someone’s wife.
I wondered if I was supposed to feel more certain about that.
If Asakhe were here, she would have told me exactly what to do.
She always knew.
Or at least, she always made it look like she did.
We landed just before sunset.
And the house was already alive with people.
Music.
Voices.
Movement.
Celebration.
I forced myself to smile.
To play my part.
To become the version of myself they expected.
⸻
“Amy!”
Auntie Grace rushed toward me before I could fully process my surroundings.
Her arms wrapped around me tightly.
Warm.
Familiar.
Safe.
“My baby,” she laughed, holding me at arm’s length. “Or should I say—my lawyer.”
Tears pricked my eyes before I could stop them.
“I’m so proud of you. I’m sorry I missed your graduation. I had to make sure everything here runs smoothly.”
I nodded quickly, wiping my face.
“It’s okay, Auntie. Aren’t I supposed to cry happy tears seeing my favourite aunt?”
A lie.
But she smiled like she believed it anyway.
Behind her, I felt my parents watching.
Quiet.
Careful.
Guilty.
But no one said anything.
⸻
Inside the house, she pulled me aside.
Away from the noise.
Away from the celebration.
And looked at me properly.
“How are you, my child? And I want the truth.”
That was Auntie Grace.
She didn’t ask questions she didn’t want answers to.
“I think everything is happening too fast,” I admitted softly. “It feels like… I’m being moved from one life to another without being asked.”
She squeezed my hand.
“It’s not like that, Amy.”
But I didn’t respond immediately.
Something heavier rose instead.
“Or maybe it is,” I said quietly. “Maybe they’ve just been waiting for this.”
Her brow furrowed.
“What do you mean?”
My throat tightened.
“For years, I felt like I was just… continuing where Asakhe stopped living.”
Silence settled between us.
Even the noise outside seemed distant.
“I was never the one they looked at,” I continued. “It was always her. And when she died… I think I just became a reminder.”
“Amy—”
“I know they’re grieving,” I cut in quickly. “But I also know what it feels like to be in the same house and still feel invisible.”
Auntie Grace pulled me closer.
Her voice softened.
“They were afraid,” she said. “Afraid of losing you too.”
That didn’t erase the ache in my chest.
But it softened it slightly.
“Talk to them,” she added gently. “Before you leave for your in-laws.”
I nodded, but I wasn’t sure when I would find the courage.
Then she studied me again.
Her expression shifted.
“Now,” she said carefully, “tell me about your husband.”
A pause.
Just one second too long.
And then—
Heat rose to my face.
Of all moments.
Of all topics.
Why this one?
“I… don’t really know what to think yet,” I said quickly.
Too quickly.
Auntie Grace smiled immediately.
“Oh.”
“No,” I protested. “Don’t start.”
But she was already laughing.
“I think you’re warming up to him.”
“I am NOT.”
She raised a brow.
“I heard he’s handsome.”
That made it worse.
“Who told you that?”
“People talk,” she said simply.
I covered my face with my hands.
And despite everything—
Despite grief.
Despite pressure.
Despite uncertainty.
A small, traitorous part of me remembered the way Sizwe looked at me.
And I hated that it made my heart react at all.
Auntie Grace squeezed my hand.
“Love,” she said softly, “is not a moment. It’s something that grows—even in places you don’t expect.”
I didn’t answer.
But I didn’t disagree either.
- Writer
