Chapter 6: The Breaking Point
683 Words
Naledi stopped writing completely.
Her notebook lay untouched beneath her bed, its pages waiting for stories that no longer came. Every spare moment belonged to Adrian now — answering his messages, adjusting her tone, making sure she said the right things in the right way.
It was exhausting.
But she told herself love required effort.
One Friday afternoon, the school buzzed with excitement about an upcoming dance. Girls crowded around lockers, debating dresses and hairstyles. Someone asked Naledi if she was going.
She hesitated.
Adrian wouldn’t like it.
Before she could answer, Thato stepped in beside her.
“You should go,” he said, offering a small smile. “You used to love stuff like that.”
“Used to,” she echoed softly.
That night, she mentioned the dance to Adrian.
There was silence on the other end of the call.
“Why would you go?” he asked finally.
“It’s just a school thing.”
“So you can dance with other boys?”
“It’s not like that.”
“It always starts ‘not like that.’”
Her chest tightened. “You don’t trust me?”
“It’s not about trust,” he replied. “It’s about respect.”
Respect.
The word tangled in her mind.
“If you respect me,” he continued, “you won’t go.”
There it was again — that quiet ultimatum wrapped in calm words.
Naledi stared at her reflection in the mirror while he spoke. Her eyes looked uncertain. Smaller.
“Okay,” she said finally. “I won’t go.”
He softened instantly. “That’s my girl.”
The words should have comforted her.
Instead, they felt like a lock clicking into place.
The following week, everything unraveled.
Thato found her sitting alone behind the school building during lunch, knees pulled to her chest.
“You didn’t come to the dance,” he said gently.
“I know.”
“You love dancing.”
“I said I know.”
Her voice cracked.
Thato sat down beside her without another word.
For a while, they just listened to the distant noise of students laughing.
Then she whispered, “Is it selfish to want someone to choose you?”
Thato looked at her carefully. “Not if they choose you without asking you to disappear.”
The words hit harder than she expected.
Disappear.
That’s what it felt like.
She thought about the dance. About her notebook under the bed. About the way she checked her phone before speaking, as if asking permission.
Tears filled her eyes before she could stop them.
“I don’t feel like myself anymore,” she admitted, the words trembling out.
Thato didn’t say I told you so.
He didn’t say I warned you.
He just said, “Then maybe it’s time to find her again.”
That evening, Adrian called.
“I heard you were crying at school,” he said, his tone sharp. “Were you talking about us?”
“No.”
“Are you embarrassed of me?”
The accusation stung.
“I’m not embarrassed,” she said, her voice shaking. “I’m just tired.”
“Tired of what?”
She opened her mouth — and for the first time, she didn’t know how to shape the answer into something that wouldn’t upset him.
Tired of proving myself.
Tired of hiding.
Tired of shrinking.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
There was a long silence.
“You’re changing,” he said finally.
Maybe she was.
Or maybe she was waking up.
When the call ended, Naledi sat on her bed in the quiet of her room. Her eyes drifted to the edge of her bed, where her notebook waited beneath it.
Slowly, she reached down and pulled it out.
The first blank page stared back at her.
Her hand trembled as she wrote three words:
I miss me.
And for the first time in months, the tears that fell weren’t from fear — they were from understanding.
Something inside her was breaking.
But maybe, just maybe, it was breaking free.
- Writer
