Never please anyone

Chapter#5

THE PRICE OF THE TRUTH

Chapter 5:

Amara drove as fast as she safely could toward the old house.

The message kept flashing through her mind.

Stop asking questions about your father. The next person who gets hurt will be Daniel.

She had read it so many times that the words seemed to follow her everywhere.

Whoever had sent it knew about Daniel. They knew he was helping her. And they knew exactly how to frighten her.

Amara tightened her grip on the steering wheel.

She had spent years allowing fear to decide what she could and could not do. She had stayed quiet when Thabo lied to her. She had forgiven Lerato when her instincts told her something was wrong. She had accepted her mother's silence because she was afraid of losing the only family she had.

But this was different.

Daniel had done nothing to deserve being dragged into her family's secrets.

She couldn't let him suffer because of her.

When she finally reached the old house, she immediately noticed that the gate was wide open.

Her heart sank.

Daniel always closed it.

She parked the car and hurried toward the entrance.

"Daniel!"

No answer.

The front door stood slightly open.

She pushed it carefully.

"Daniel, are you here?"

The house was silent.

She walked into the sitting room, looking around nervously. The old chair where Daniel had sat earlier was overturned. Papers were scattered across the floor, and the envelope containing the company records was missing.

Someone had been there.

"Daniel!" she shouted again.

A noise came from the hallway.

Amara turned sharply.

Daniel appeared from a room at the back of the house. He was holding a cloth against his forehead.

"Oh my God!" Amara rushed toward him. "What happened to you?"

"I'm okay."

"You're bleeding!"

"It's nothing serious."

She took his hand and gently moved the cloth away. A small cut marked his forehead.

"Who did this?"

Daniel looked toward the open door.

"I didn't see his face clearly. He came in asking about the documents. When I refused to tell him where they were, he pushed me."

Amara felt sick.

"The documents are gone."

Daniel nodded.

"He took the envelope."

"Why didn't you call the police?"

"I was going to. Then I saw your missed calls and realised you might be in danger too."

Amara stared at him.

"You should have called me."

"I didn't want you to get involved."

She stepped back.

"Daniel, please don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Decide what is best for me without asking me. Everyone has spent my entire life hiding things from me because they think they know what I can handle. I can't keep living like that."

Daniel looked at her for a long moment.

Then he nodded.

"You're right. I'm sorry."

His answer softened something inside her.

She reached for his hand.

"I'm sorry this happened because of me."

"You didn't do this, Amara. Whoever attacked me made that choice."

"But they wouldn't have come here if I hadn't started asking questions."

"Maybe. But you have a right to know the truth about your own family."

She looked down at their joined hands.

For the first time in a long while, someone was reminding her that she wasn't responsible for every bad thing that happened to the people around her.

It was a strange feeling.

A comforting one.

"Come on," she said. "We need to get that cut cleaned."

Daniel smiled faintly.

"You're giving me orders now?"

"Somebody has to. You clearly don't know how to look after yourself."

He laughed softly.

It was the first time either of them had laughed that evening.

And despite everything, Amara found herself smiling too.

Twenty minutes later, they sat in Daniel's car outside a small pharmacy. He had bought antiseptic and bandages, and Amara had insisted on cleaning his wound herself.

"Hold still," she said.

"I am holding still."

"You're moving."

"Because you're putting antiseptic on an open wound."

"Would you prefer that I leave it dirty?"

Daniel grinned.

"No, doctor."

She tried not to smile, but failed.

For a few minutes, they were simply two people sitting together, teasing each other about a small injury.

No family secrets.

No threats.

No betrayal.

Just peace.

When she finished, Amara carefully placed the used cotton wool aside.

"There. You survived."

"Thanks to your excellent medical skills."

"Don't exaggerate."

Daniel looked at her.

"You know, you don't always have to be strong."

Her smile disappeared.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you can be frightened. You can cry. You can admit that something hurts. You don't have to pretend you're okay just because everyone expects you to be."

Amara looked out of the window.

She had heard people tell her to be strong countless times. Usually, they said it when they wanted her to stop crying or stop asking for help.

Daniel was saying something different.

He was giving her permission to feel what she felt.

"I don't know how to do that," she admitted.

"Then learn. One day at a time."

She turned toward him.

"What if people leave when they see the real me?"

Daniel's expression softened.

"Then they were never meant to stay by making you pretend to be someone else."

Her eyes filled with tears.

She quickly looked away, embarrassed.

"Sorry."

"Don't apologise."

She laughed through her tears.

"You're always telling me not to apologise."

"That's because you apologise for everything."

"Maybe you're annoying."

"Maybe you like me."

Amara looked at him.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Daniel smiled and looked away, giving her room to breathe.

She felt a small warmth in her chest.

It frightened her almost as much as the threats did.

She wasn't ready for another relationship. Her heart was still bruised from Thabo's betrayal.

But perhaps she didn't have to decide what Daniel meant to her today.

Perhaps she could simply allow herself to enjoy being around someone who made her feel safe.

The next morning, Amara received a call from Lerato.

She almost ignored it.

Then she remembered the message about Thabo being paid to stay close to her.

She answered.

"What do you want, Lerato?"

Her friend's voice was shaky.

"Please don't hang up."

"You have thirty seconds."

"I know you're angry with me."

"Angry doesn't begin to describe how I feel."

"I deserve that."

Amara said nothing.

Lerato took a deep breath.

"Thabo wasn't supposed to fall in love with you."

Amara went still.

"What?"

"He was supposed to get close to you, gain your trust, and find out what your father had left behind."

Amara's mouth went dry.

"Who paid him?"

"I don't know everything."

"Stop saying that! You know something, Lerato. Tell me!"

"I swear I don't know who started it. Thabo told me he had been approached by someone who believed your father had hidden valuable documents before he died."

"And you helped him?"

Lerato began to cry.

"At first, I didn't think he was serious. I thought he was just trying to get money. Then I realised he really was looking for something."

"And you said nothing to me?"

"I was scared."

Amara closed her eyes.

There it was again.

Fear.

Everyone had been so afraid of what might happen if they told the truth that they had allowed Amara to live a lie.

"You were my best friend," she whispered.

"I know."

"No, you don't. You don't know what it feels like to trust someone with everything and then discover that they were using you."

Lerato sobbed.

"I am sorry."

Amara wiped a tear from her cheek.

For a moment, she wanted to forgive her. It was an old habit, almost automatic. She wanted to tell Lerato that everything would be okay.

But she wasn't ready to make someone else's pain more important than her own.

"I'm not ready to forgive you," Amara said. "And I don't know if I ever will."

"I understand."

"Do you know where Thabo is now?"

"No. He disappeared yesterday."

Amara's stomach tightened.

"Did he take the company documents?"

"I don't know."

"Then find out."

"Amara—"

"If you want me to believe that you're sorry, start telling the truth. All of it."

She ended the call.

Her hands trembled, but she did not regret what she had said.

For the first time, she had set a boundary without immediately feeling the need to take it back.

It hurt.

But it also felt like freedom.

That afternoon, Daniel arrived at Amara's apartment carrying a small brown box.

"I think you'll want to see this," he said.

She opened the door wider.

"What is it?"

"Something I found in the house before the attack."

He placed the box on the table.

Inside were several old photographs, a small notebook, and a sealed envelope bearing her father's name.

Amara's heart began to race.

"Where did you find these?"

"In a loose floorboard in the room at the back. Whoever searched the house didn't find them."

She lifted the notebook carefully.

The first pages contained names, dates, and figures written in her father's handwriting. Several payments were marked with the same initials she had seen on the company statement.

R.D.

But near the end of the notebook, she found something that made her stop.

Her own name.

AMARA MOKOENA.

Beneath it was a number.

A very large amount of money.

She read it again, certain she had misunderstood.

"Daniel, what does this mean?"

He leaned closer.

"I don't know."

She turned the page.

There was another entry.

The funds must remain untouched until Amara turns twenty-five.

Amara felt the room spin.

Her twenty-fifth birthday was less than a year away.

"What funds?" she whispered.

Daniel looked at the notebook.

"I think your father may have left you something."

"Something worth all this trouble?"

"Possibly."

She continued reading.

The next entry contained a name she recognised immediately.

Thabo Ndlovu.

Beside it, her father had written a date from three years earlier.

The same year Thabo had first asked her out.

Amara slowly lowered the notebook.

"No," she whispered.

Daniel placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Amara?"

She shook her head.

"Thabo knew. He must have known something about my father's money from the beginning."

She remembered the expensive gifts, the promises, the way he had encouraged her to trust him with her savings.

Had any of it been real?

Or had their entire relationship been a carefully planned deception?

Her phone vibrated.

An unknown number.

She opened the message.

Your father left you more than money. Ask your mother why she changed your name when you were a baby.

Amara stared at the screen.

Her name?

She had never known another name.

She looked up at Daniel, but he appeared just as confused.

Then she noticed something else in the box.

A photograph she had not seen before.

It showed her mother standing outside a hospital, holding a newborn baby.

Beside her stood a young man Amara did not recognise.

On the back of the photograph were three handwritten words.

My daughter, Amara.

But beneath them, someone had written another name in red ink.

A name that had been crossed out so violently that the paper was almost torn.

Amara's hands began to shake.

She had come searching for the truth about her father's death.

She had discovered that her boyfriend might have been using her, that her family had hidden a financial secret, and that someone was willing to hurt Daniel to keep the past buried.

Now she was being told that even her identity might be a lie.

Daniel gently took the photograph from her trembling hands and placed it on the table.

"We'll figure this out," he said.

Amara looked at him.

For once, she didn't pretend to be brave.

She let herself cry.

Daniel sat beside her, holding her hand without demanding explanations or promising that he could fix everything.

And in that quiet moment, Amara realised something important.

She didn't need someone to rescue her.

She needed the courage to face the truth.

Even if the truth changed everything.

She wiped her cheeks and picked up the photograph again.

"Tomorrow," she said, her voice growing stronger, "I'm going to ask my mother who I really am."

Daniel nodded.

"And if she refuses to answer?"

Amara looked at the crossed-out name.

"Then I'll find someone who will."

She had spent years trying to be the daughter her mother wanted, the girlfriend Thabo expected, and the friend Lerato needed.

She had sacrificed pieces of herself to keep everyone else happy.

Never again.

From now on, she would choose truth over comfort, dignity over approval, and justice over blind forgiveness.

But as Amara stared at the photograph, she couldn't escape one terrifying thought.

What if the people who had betrayed her were not strangers at all?

What if the biggest lie in her life had been told by the person who had raised her?

End of Chapter 5