The Love I Deserve

Naledi Khumalo woke before the sun, not because she wanted to, but because her body had learned the rhythm of dread. The ache in her chest was familiar — a quiet panic that whispered, You’re behind. You’re failing. Again. She sat on the edge of her bed in the student residence, staring at the chipped linoleum floor. Her textbooks lay scattered, pages marked with desperate scribbles and half-understood diagrams. The vet tech diploma was supposed to be her redemption. Instead, it felt like a slow punishment. Her phone buzzed. A class reminder. She didn’t move. Outside, the world was already moving — students laughing, cars starting, someone playing amapiano too loud. Naledi felt like a ghost among the living. She dressed in silence. Worn jeans. A hoodie with a fraying cuff. She fed the stray cats behind the building, the only creatures who didn’t expect her to be more than she was.Milo, the ginger one, rubbed against her ankle. She whispered, “You’re the only one who doesn’t ask me to succeed.” She went to class. She took notes. She answered questions with a voice that barely held. And when the lecturer handed back the test, she didn’t need to look. She already knew. Another failure. The red ink bled across the page like a wound. She stared at it for a moment, then folded it in half and slipped it into her bag. No one needed to see it. Not her classmates. Not her mother. Not even herself. She walked out before the tears came. She didn’t want pity. She didn’t want comfort. She wanted silence. And maybe a place to disappear.