NOT MY CHOICE, I did it for my siblings

“Anna, Mum had an accident last night… she was taken to the hospital,” her sister’s voice cracked through the phone, thick with panic and breathlessness. Anna blinked twice. Her heart thudded in her chest as if it were trying to break free. “But… but Mum was fine yesterday. She said she was going to the bank.” Her voice trembled. “What happened, Asanda? Please tell me she’s okay.” On the other end, silence took over—except for the sound of sobbing. Choked gasps. Shattered breathing. Anna’s knees buckled, and she sank onto the edge of her bed. She could already feel it—the weight of something irreversible. She hadn’t even spoken to her mother properly that day. No, they had argued—badly. Things had been said. Things a daughter should never say. Shameful things. “Asanda, please,” Anna whispered, her voice barely audible, as if speaking louder might confirm the worst. “She was driving Dad’s old car… the one you refused to take in for servicing,” her sister finally said through broken sobs. “Anna, she… she died on arrival. The doctors tried, but they couldn’t bring her back. Please, you need to come home. Lungy and Sipho need us. Mama is gone, Anna. She’s gone.” The room began to spin. Anna clutched the phone so hard her fingers went numb. “No, no, no… I killed her. Oh God, I killed Mama Jane.” She stood and began pacing her dorm room, pulling at her long, flawless Brazilian weave. Her chest heaved with guilt, hot tears pouring down her cheeks. “If I hadn’t used the money for booze, if I’d just taken the car to get serviced…” Anna had no money for the bus fare. Her mother had just sent her some—but not for transport. That money had been meant for a serious conversation. For reconciliation. Mama Jane had wanted to talk after receiving a disciplinary letter from Anna’s university about her drinking, her absenteeism. Anna had turned her back on her studies, on her future, on everything her mother had sacrificed for. Now Mama Jane was gone. “Anna, please come inside,” her roommate Refilwe said gently, peeking through the door. “Come have some water. Talk to me.” “My mum is dead, Refilwe,” Anna gasped. “She told me to take the car in, but I decided to go to that beach party instead. I’m a horrible daughter.” “No, Anna, don’t say that. It’s not your fault.” But Anna couldn’t hear her. She was drowning in the memory of that phone call with her mother—the shouting, the blame, the bitter words she had thrown like daggers. “Maybe you should just grow old and die,” she had said. She had meant none of it. But now those words would haunt her forever. “How do I face my sisters? Sipho? Little Lungy?” Anna sobbed. “I’m being kicked out of campus. The bursary’s gone. Mum is dead. And the funeral policy—I didn’t pay it. I took the money and bought drinks. I was partying while my mother lay dying.” Refilwe held her friend as she wept uncontrollably, wiping her tears, trying her best to comfort her. But Anna needed more than comfort—she needed a way home. She needed to undo the irreversible. “Can you call Sbu for me?” Anna asked finally. Refilwe hesitated, then nodded. Sbu was Anna’s ex. She had pushed him away just like everyone else—after he tried to stop her from partying on a school night. But Sbu had loved her. Deeply. Within the hour, he arrived at the dorm. “Anna,” he said softly. She collapsed into his arms. “Mum is dead,” she whimpered. “I need to get home. Please… I don’t have money for the ticket.” Sbu didn’t flinch. He wrapped his arms around her and whispered, “It’s going to be okay.” He pulled out his phone and booked her a flexible return ticket. “You can use it anytime within the next thirty days,” he said. “I’m sorry about what I said before,” Anna murmured. “You called me useless,” he replied quietly. Anna looked down, unable to meet his eyes. He didn’t press her. Instead, he just said, “Even so, I still love you. Let’s get you home.” That night, Anna didn’t sleep. She lay in bed, haunted by her mother’s voice, her mother’s smile, and the warmth that would never return. She remembered the sacrifices Mama Jane had made after her father’s death—selling their home, giving up her dreams to keep the family afloat. Anna stared at her own reflection, barely recognizing herself. “How did I get here? How did I become this person?” By morning, she had cried herself dry. She took a quick shower and fixed her weave. When Sbu messaged to say he was outside, she grabbed her Prada handbag and wheeled her travel bag to the lift. Sbu held her close one last time. Her eyes were puffy, her makeup unable to hide the exhaustion etched deep into her skin. “I’ll take care of things here. You focus on your family,” he said. The bus ride from Cape Town to Durban had never felt this long, and yet, Anna didn’t want it to end. Every passing town brought her closer to the truth: her mother was no longer waiting for her. As the taxi dropped her at the corner shop near home, neighbors whispered condolences. Her feet grew heavier with each step. Mama Jane wasn’t at the door. The doorway stood empty, like a hollow promise. In the yard, her grandmother sat on a mattress with a blanket around her shoulders. Uncle John was next to her. The air smelled like loss. Anna dropped her bag and ran barefoot into her grandmother’s arms. “Gogo… is it true? Is Mama really gone?” Her grandmother, eyes glazed with sorrow, nodded slowly. “Yes, my child. She’s gone.” Then Anna saw her sister Asanda, carrying a bowl of sweet potatoes. “Asanda, I’m so sorry,” Anna said, tears flowing. “I took Mum’s money and used it for myself. I ruined everything. Please forgive me.” Asanda looked at her with hollow eyes. “You have the nerve to show up here with that expensive weave? I heard the fight you had with Mama. I called the insurance company this morning. Her policy had lapsed. You used her money for parties, Anna. Now how do we bury her?” Anna stood frozen, words caught in her throat. She walked into her mother’s bedroom and dropped to her knees. “Mama, I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Please forgive me. I’ll fix this. Somehow, I’ll fix everything.” Behind her, her grandmother stood with little Lungy in her arms. “Cry no more, Anna. We will find a way.” Anna took Lungy into her arms. The three-year-old clung to her, unaware of how much her world had changed. Moments later, little Sipho rushed in. “Sister! They said Mum went to heaven. Is she coming back soon?” Anna crouched down, fighting a new wave of tears. “No, baby. But she’s here with us. Watching over us.” “Like an angel?” he asked. “Yes. Like the most beautiful angel.” As the sun began to set, the family sat down for dinner. Asanda had cooked for everyone. Even in the middle of grief, the children needed routine, warmth, food. At the table, they spoke about the funeral. Uncle John and Gogo had no savings. Church donations weren’t enough. They needed at least twenty thousand rand. “I’ll find it,” Anna promised. “By the end of the week. I swear.” She searched her bag that night and found an old notebook with contacts—people from the past. She called friends, explained the tragedy, begged. They were sympathetic. But broke. By Tuesday afternoon, desperation had her flipping through the pages of her past—the wild years. One name stood out like a warning sign: Billy. Her high school sweetheart. A bad boy with bad ideas. Back then, they had spent weekends getting wasted, skipping Mondays. But Billy always had money, one way or another. Anna hesitated for a long time, staring at his name. But then she picked up her phone and dialed. “Billy… it’s Anna. We need to talk. Can we meet? As soon as possible?” ---