Chapter Seventeen

STRING OF PEARLS: SEVENTEEN - CAROLINA -

I practically had to beg MaSibiya to join me in the city for lunch. I wanted us to talk outside the confines of the Mthethwa homestead, to see her let loose. As I wait outside the restaurant, Thulani, the family driver, pulls up in a Quantum. MaSibiya steps out, and I'm taken aback by her unconventional outfit: Converse All-Star tekkies and a pinifa, complete with a headwrap. The conservative wife had taken it to another level.

"Hey you," I say, embracing her.

After exchanging greetings, we head inside and get settled.

"Where's my little diva?" she asks with a smile.

"With her father," I reply, and she nods.

"How are you? You seemed troubled last time we met," I inquire.

MaSibiya heaves a sigh. "I feel like I'm losing my husband."

I frown. "Why do you think that?"

"I just know, okay? He's with me but not with me. Last night, he called me pretentious and two-faced," she says, her voice cracking.

I gasp. "What?"

"I've never been so hurt. After everything I've endured, everything I've put up with. Nine years of marriage, and he's never said 'I love you' or acknowledged our anniversary. I doubt he even knows my birthday," she says, tears streaming down her face.

I hand her a tissue and rub her hand. "That doesn't mean he doesn't love you. On my podcast, I discussed how Zulu men often struggle with romance. My husband isn't romantic either."

MaSibiya shakes her head. "Your husband may not be romantic, but you know he loves you without a doubt. That's the difference."

"I get that," I continue. "Your husband is not romantic, but you know he loves you. Mcedisi loves that fat girl. He's always loved her, I bet he even wished his brother dead so that he can have her. I did what I had to do to secure my marriage, and I'm painted like a villain. As women, we are always expected to agree to everything just because we are women."

I recognize the pain and resentment in her words.

"MaSibiya, body-shaming or blaming the other woman won't make your problems disappear. Instead, it'll make you seem bitter. You have two choices: accept things as they are and make the best of it, even if your husband takes another wife, or walk away. Choose your peace, your sanity, and yourself. Why stay in a marriage where you feel inadequate?" I ask.

MaSibiya looks down, then wipes away her tears. Her expression changes as she gazes past me, and she abruptly stands up. I turn to see what's caused her distress.

_ONEZWA_

We hadn't started the day well, but I wanted to avoid fighting. "I hate fighting with you," I say as Troy walks into the lounge.

"I hate it too," he replies, sitting beside me.

"I'm sorry for not being honest. I was afraid you'd make a big deal out of it, but I realize lying made you question my faithfulness," I admit.

"Tell me how to fix this?" I ask, taking his hand.

"Stop going to the store. Hire a manager and check in occasionally," he suggests.

"Can I think about it?" I ask, and he nods.

"Are you going to the office today?"

"Yes, I have a 2 pm meeting."

"How about brunch at your favorite restaurant before your meeting? I'll go to my store and wait for you to pick me up afterward," I propose.

Inside the restaurant, MaSibiya confronts us.

"What did you think you'd achieve telling my husband about me helping you run away? Wasn't I the one who helped you? You said you didn't want to marry him, mos. Now I'm the bad guy. Onezwa, have you no shame? Mcedisi is my husband. Your husband is dead. You'll never be a Mthethwa, okay?" She shouts.

I dart my eyes to Troy, his expression unreadable.

"MaSibiya, what are you on about? I never said anything about that to Mcedisi," I defend.

"The disrespect! You're calling your late husband's brother by his name. Is it because you've wrestled with him between the sheets and vomited my name during your pillow talk?" MaSibiya asks, disgust etched on her face.

"Pillow talk? MaSibiya, if you're facing problems in your marriage, please..." I start but she interjects.

"You are the problem in my marriage!" she yells, charging toward me.

A familiar face intervenes, pulling MaSibiya away. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I feel Troy's intense gaze.

The lady, Nkanyezi's girlfriend, pays the bill and drags MaSibiya out.

Troy storms off without a word, leaving me devastated.

How can I convince him there's nothing between Mcedisi and me now?

I stand frozen, unsure what to do, until a waiter asks if I still need a table. I shake my head and exit the restaurant.

Troy's office is just a 10-minute walk away. Assuming he went there to cool off, I head in that direction.

Upon arrival, I find his PA's desk vacant, so I let myself into his office. Troy sits with another woman, presumably his PA, who takes notes from a pad.

"I'm sorry to intrude. There was no one at the front," I say.

Troy stares blankly.

"Hi," I greet the PA, who waves with a smile.

"Can we talk?" I ask.

The PA attempts to rise, but Troy stops her.

"Did I dismiss you?" he asks.

The woman sits back down, and Troy continues instructing her, ignoring me.

"Troy, please," I plead.

He finally looks at me, his gaze piercing.

"I'm sorry," I whisper before rushing out, tears streaming down my face.

I step out of Troy's office, tears blurring my vision. Lost in thought, I wander onto the street, oblivious to my surroundings. Suddenly, screeching tires jolt me back to reality. A car has stopped mere inches from me.

Mcedisi leaps out, concern etched on his face. "Onezwa!"

I look up, realizing he's the owner of the car that almost hit me.

MCEDISI

I was heading to my coffee shop when a distracted woman stepped into the road, nearly getting hit by my car. I slammed on the brakes just in time.

Relieved she's unharmed, I stepped out and was surprised to see it was Onezwa.

She didn't resist when I suggested getting into my car. Now, at my office, she seems more composed.

"What's wrong, my love?" I ask, taking her hand.

"Onezwa, I'm not your love, MaSibiya is," she corrects, wiping tears.

"And she just ruined my relationship with Troy."

Her pain stirs something within me.

"What happened?" I inquire.

She narrates story, my wife did mention Maka Nonka's plans to take her out.

"I'm sorry," I offer.

"Your sorry doesn't fix my relationship. Troy is mad at me," she replies.

"I don't care about Troy's feelings," I say.

Her eyebrow rises.

"What?"

"Would you like a drink? My barista is Durban's best."

She snorts, unimpressed.

"You're beautiful when you do that," I confess.

She looks away, blushing.

"The things I want to do to you right now... I'll never see heaven," I whisper.

Her breathing hitches, thighs pressing together. I've got an effect on her, and I won't hesitate to capitalize on it.

I yank her up from the chair, slamming my lips against hers. She matches my intensity, moaning through the kiss.

My hands ravage her curvy, voluptuous body, undoing buttons on her crisp white shirt. She doesn't resist.

I lift her onto the desk, spreading her legs wide. Her trembling body, half-open eyes, and yearning expression fuel my desire.

I remove her lace thong, sniffing it, making her blush. Then, I bury my face between her thighs, nibbling her cl*t.

"Oh, ahh, shit Mcedisi," she moans softly as I suck and tongue-fvck her until she explodes, releasing creamy juices into my mouth.

I unbuckle my belt, revealing Nyambose, ready and raring. Her gasp fuels my lust.

"Now is the time to stop me," I say, hoping she won't.

"I want you," she whispers.

I smirk, positioning myself. Her legs on my shoulders, I drive deeper, faster.

Her loud moans fill the room. "Fvck!" I grunt, feeling my climax build.

My staff can hear us, but I don't care. Not even ten strong men can remove me from this sweet haven.

Just after reaching my climax, a loud knock interrupts us.

"Mcedisi, what's going on?" MaSibiya's voice pierces through the door.

Onezwa's eyes widen in panic.

"Get rid of her," she mouths.

I button up quickly, trying to compose myself.

"Not now, MaSibiya. I'm in a meeting," I call out.

"I know exactly what kind of meeting you're having!" MaSibiya shouts, banging on the door. Thank goodness the door is locked.

Onezwa hastily dresses, her face flushed.

"This isn't over," I whisper, kissing her swiftly before opening another door that leads to the cash office. I give her the secret code to the door that leads out of the cash office and onto the sales floor. Fuck! there's no way of getting out of this, I know my wife heard.