Her Side Of The Wound
1129 Words
Rebecca held my hand through the bars,
Her fingers trembling against mine as if she feared I’d disappear again.
For a moment, we didn’t speak.
Just breathed —
Shaky, uneven, emotional breaths
That carried months of pain and longing.
Then she wiped her face and said softly:
“You don’t know what I went through…”
Her voice cracked,
And I felt her pain before she even explained it.
She swallowed hard and continued:
“The day they rushed you to the hospital… they told me not to come.
They told me I wasn’t wanted there.
They said it was my fault.”
A tear slid down her cheek.
“I went anyway.
I stood outside the emergency entrance for hours just hoping to see you…
Just to know if you were alive.
But they chased me away.
Your family said I must never show my face again.”
She breathed shakily,
Trying to steady the storm inside her.
“They blamed me for everything.
They said I brought trouble into your life.
They said I was a curse.
Some even said my pregnancy was a trap…
That you were stabbed because of me.”
Her voice broke completely.
“I cried every night.
Every single night.
I prayed for you.
I prayed for our child.
And I prayed God would let you speak again…
Even if it wasn’t for me.”
My chest burned.
Hearing this felt worse than the blade that tore through me.
She pressed her forehead against the gate.
“When Naledi told me you defended me…
I cried until I couldn’t breathe.
I thought you hated me.
I thought you wanted nothing to do with me… or our baby.”
Her tears fell freely now.
“All I wanted was to check on you.
Just once.
Just to see you from a distance.
But I was treated like an enemy.”
I couldn’t hold it in anymore.
My throat tightened,
My body shook,
And I forced out the words with the little voice I had:
“Let’s…
go…
to…
Yo… your… place…”
She looked up suddenly, shocked.
Her eyes softened instantly.
“Are you sure?” she whispered, wiping her face quickly.
“You don’t have to push yourself for me.”
I nodded slowly, leaning on the wall to steady myself.
But she stepped back and raised her hand gently.
“Wait…”
Her voice became caring, protective — the voice of a woman who loved deeply.
“Have you eaten?
Did you have breakfast?
I don’t want you collapsing on the street.
You’re still recovering.
You must stop anytime you get tired, okay?
No pressure, Tebelo.
Please.”
She moved closer again, her fingers brushing mine softly.
“I’m not losing you twice.
If we walk, we walk slowly.
If you get tired, we rest.
If your leg stiffens, we turn back.
I’ll carry whatever you can’t.
I just need you safe.
I can’t go through that pain again.”
Her voice dropped to a trembling whisper:
“I don’t care how long it takes.
As long as we take the next step together.”
And for the first time since my stabbing…
Someone wasn’t just trying to protect me—
They were trying to protect “us.”
Rebecca opened the gate gently, as if afraid the sound alone might shatter me. She stepped out and stood beside me, close enough for comfort but careful not to overwhelm me.
“Ready?” she whispered.
I nodded, even though my body wasn’t sure.
We started walking— slow, steady, step by step down the street. The gravel crunched under our feet, the winter breeze brushing against my cheeks.
I dragged my right foot slightly, my shoulder leaning toward the wall at first. Rebecca walked on my other side, matching her steps to mine, never rushing, never pulling.
Every few meters she’d ask softly:
“Are you okay? Want to rest?”
And every time, I pushed out a small breath to reassure her.
We reached the first corner when it happened.
My right leg locked— just froze, tight like a steel rod hammered into the ground. Pain shot up from my thigh to my spine, so suddenly it stole the air from my lungs.
I stopped. My body tilted sideways. My fingers clawed at the wall, my breath hissing between my teeth.
Rebecca panicked.
“Tebelo!” She rushed to my side, her arm wrapping around my waist firmly, her hand cupping my elbow, steady, warm, trembling with fear.
I tried to take another step— but my leg refused.
It stiffened so violently that tears rose in my eyes.
Rebecca’s voice cracked:
“Don’t force it, baby… don’t force it. Just hold on to me. I’m here. Look at me.”
She positioned herself in front of me, her palms on my cheeks, her forehead almost touching mine.
“Breathe with me, okay? Slow… slow… slow…” She inhaled deeply, and I tried to follow her rhythm, even though the pain felt like fire under my skin.
My leg twitched again.
Rebecca quickly slid her arm beneath my armpit, taking most of my weight. She wasn’t strong— not physically— but love makes a person powerful in ways muscles can’t explain.
“Lean on me. Don’t be embarrassed. I’ve got you. I’ll always have you.”
I swallowed hard, my throat tightening as another tear escaped down my cheek. Not from pain alone— but from how she held me.
Gently. Patiently. Completely.
People on the street slowed their pace, some stared, others looked away politely—
But for both of us, the world shrank into that moment: just me, her, and the battle to keep moving.
After a minute, my leg loosened slightly. The rigid tension eased. My ankle unlocked.
Rebecca wiped my tears with her thumb.
“We can go back if you want. I mean it. We don’t have to get to my place today. We don’t have to do anything that hurts you.”
But I shook my head stubbornly.
“Go…” I forced out. “We… go…”
She smiled, small and broken, but filled with so much love it warmed all the cold parts of me.
“Okay then…” she whispered, kissing my forehead softly. “We go together. Slowly. At your pace.”
She tightened her hold on me, and I leaned on her completely— my weight, my weakness, my fear, all resting on her shoulders.
And so, step by shaky step, we continued the long, difficult, beautiful walk toward her place—
The place she kept for us, for hope, for the child we were expecting, and for the love that survived the night I almost died.
- Writer
