A Heavy Return
I sat in the taxi on the way back home,
hands shaking…
mind running faster than the wheels beneath me.
I had just promised Rebecca I'd come soon —
that I just needed to check on things at home,
make sure my brothers were okay.
But before even stepping through the gate,
I called Dineo.
She arrived fast — almost like she knew my fear.
Her face said everything…
before her mouth did.
> "Your mother will be transferred to prison on Monday."
Those words…
It felt like the ground dropped under me.
Like I was falling again…
headfirst into another nightmare.
Life was going too fast.
Too loud.
Too heavy.
I stared at Dineo, lost in confusion:
> "Prison?
For what?
Why only her?"
Dineo shook her head:
> "They say she's the one who hit the man.
They want her, not you…
for now."
"For now."
Those two words scared me the most.
My brothers stood behind her —
silent… helpless… hungry for guidance.
Suddenly, the weight of everything
landed directly on my chest:
My mother in chains.
Rebecca breaking apart.
Angela growing up far from me.
And now…
my brothers depending on me more than ever.
I couldn't collapse.
Not here.
Not now.
---
Family Steps Forward
That afternoon, Aunty Palesa and Kgauhelo arrived.
They came straight to me —
to us.
They hugged my brothers
as if they'd known them forever.
Aunty Palesa placed her hand firmly on my shoulder:
> "You will not carry this alone.
We are your family too.
Your father's blood is in you.
We stand with you."
Those words stitched a broken piece of me back together.
I finally exhaled.
---
A Light in the Middle of Chaos
I called Rebecca again to update her…
> "Aunt Palesa…
she wants to meet you and Manessah properly.
Not to judge… to welcome you."
Rebecca sounded surprised —
almost unsure if she deserved that:
> "Are you sure?
Even after everything?"
> "Yes," I answered.
"They want to know the people who kept me alive."
I heard her breathe out —
hope returning slowly.
---
Because time wasn't on my side, I called Rebecca to explain that we wouldn't be able to stay. But I asked if we could meet somewhere — even if it was just for five minutes. She agreed.
"Let's meet by the bridge," she said, which was only a few minutes from her place.
We finally met, and Rebecca handed me little Manessah. Aunt Palesa's face lit up when she saw them — that kind of smile that shows relief and love at the same time.
Mdala, Aunt Palesa's man, was so patient with me through all of this. He just looked at me and said, "Tell me where you need to go."
Then he drove us wherever I needed to be, no complaints… just support.
As soon as the car stopped, I stepped out and Palesa followed behind me. There they were — Rebecca and little Manessah. My heart lifted for a moment. Things between Rebecca and me weren't exactly in the best shape, but right then it all felt like water under the bridge. The worry in her eyes said everything.
"How are you holding up?" she asked softly.
I tried to answer with a smile I didn't really have, but at least she saw I was trying. She greeted my aunt and Mdala warmly, and for a brief moment, everything felt normal — like we were just a small family meeting up, not standing in the middle of a storm that was getting worse by the hour.
---
Aunt Palesa took Manessah to the car, giving us a bit of space to talk. I carefully picked my words — the last thing I wanted was another argument, another moment where she blamed her bad choices on me. We stood facing each other when she spoke first.
"It will all be over… please don't stress. You only need to heal."
I didn't know how to respond. Her voice was comforting, but her past words still echoed loudly in my mind — "Why didn't you die that day?" Some things don't disappear just because time moves forward.
I'm not good at pretending. I opened my mouth to say something, anything — but before a single word could leave me, Manessah cried out loudly from the car, calling for her mother.
My phone rang — it was my stepfather, Thapelo.
I answered quickly, "Can I call you back?"
He replied politely, "Okay," and the call ended.
Mdala sat there quietly, watching everything with patience and understanding. I reached into my pocket and gave Manessah money — clearly meant for Rebecca and my daughter. I kissed Manessah gently on her forehead before walking back to the car.
As I got inside, I looked out one last time — wishing things were different, wishing life would slow down just a little. But I closed the door, and we drove off.
---
I dialed my stepfather's number — it was on speed-dial.
He picked up immediately.
"Please take things easy," he said. "I know a lot is going on right now, but your mother needs you stronger. We will get her out of there."
In that moment, I felt the weight on my shoulders lifting — even if just a little. His words gave me something I had been losing piece by piece…hope
---
He had been there too — and he knew me too well. He understood exactly what this situation was doing to me. He had dated my mom since I was in high school, and even though he stayed far from where we lived, he never made us feel fatherless.
Distance never stopped him from showing up.
He took care of everything…
He made sure my brothers didn't feel the pressure of our mother not being at home.
He carried what I couldn't carry anymore.
And in those moments, I realized I wasn't alone — even when the world felt like it was falling apart.
---
We finally arrived in Sebokeng.
Mamutsi and Kgauhelo were sitting under the tree in front of Aunt Palesa's house, waiting for us. As soon as I stepped out, Aunt Kgauhelo called out with a smile:
"What took you guys so long?"
Even though she had traveled with us, we had come in different cars. She and her husband, Moloi, had left earlier because he was working the night shift. They didn't want to delay him, so they rushed ahead.
The moment felt calm… like a brief pause before facing whatever was coming next.
---
Days felt strangely quiet… too quiet. I tried not to stress, but who was I fooling? Everything inside me was screaming.
My phone lit up — a WhatsApp notification.
"Hi, Tebelo."
It was Pinky.
She's a community member who volunteers to fight crime, and she'd been helping since the situation began.
Her message continued:
"Please stay with family that side. Just know we are doing everything we can to get your mother home."
Then she said something that knocked the air out of me:
"I was with your mother today. It looks like she'll be out by Monday."
Monday?
Another day in there?
My voice shook just thinking about it.
Typing felt useless — my hands frozen, my words stuck. So our chat turned into voice notes. Pinky spoke calmly, trying to hold me together:
"It's protocol, my brother. Be patient."
And suddenly my stepfather's voice echoed in my mind:
"Your mother needs you stronger."
That reminder… kept me from breaking.