THE INCARCERATED STRANGER

 

Chapter 26

 

NARRATED

 

"So tell me, dear wife, who were you talking to?" Bradley asks calmly, walking toward Lulama, who is shaking and has already wet herself. 

"I... No one... no one," she stutters, panic rising in her chest.

"When you look at my forehead, is it written 'FOOL'?" he presses, and she shakes her head vigorously.

“N—no.”

"Then start telling me who you were talking to. Who is Ayakha's father?" Bradley demands, charging toward her.

"Baby, I can explain, please," she wails, her voice cracking under the weight of her fear.

"What are you crying for, Wifey? Did anyone beat you?" he asks, his tone still even. She shakes her head frantically.

"Then what’s all this wailing for? What are you crying about? Wipe those crocodile tears now," he says calmly. She quickly dabs at her cheeks with trembling hands.

"Now you are going to go into that bathroom, wash off this smell of urine, and come out. We will both wait for Ayakha to arrive so you can tell us what you need to say. Are we clear, Wifey?" He maintains his calm demeanor as she nods vigorously, feeling trapped.

Lulama rushes to the bathroom to shower, horrified that she has lost control like this. She has never seen Bradley so calm yet so intimidating. As the water cascades over her, tears stream down her face. How is she going to break this news to him? She doesn’t care about how Ayakha will react; the only person she cares about is her husband. She can feel it in her bones—she’s going to lose him! All because of AYAKHA! That bastard child! 

She berates herself for not seeing the signs of pregnancy after that unfaithful night with a man she still despises. It was a mistake—she was drunk and desperate for affection while Bradley was away working overseas. The guilt weighs heavily on her heart as she stands under the shower spray, wishing for a way out of this nightmare.

Lulama steps out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, she finds Bradley seated on the bed, his gaze fixed on her. Her eyes are drawn to her phone sitting next to him, and her heart races uncontrollably. Could he have opened her phone and seen who she was talking to? Panic grips her—he doesn’t know the password; she changed it a long time ago.

“Ayakha is 30 minutes away. Finish up,” he says calmly. Why is he so calm? Did he overhear her conversation? Why isn’t he yelling or showing any signs of anger? He should be furious! 

With shaky hands, she hurriedly applies lotion and slips into her clothes, acutely aware of Bradley watching her every move. The air feels heavy with tension, and each second stretches painfully as she tries to maintain a semblance of normalcy. What is going through his mind? Is this calm before the storm? She can feel the weight of his gaze, and it only heightens her anxiety. 

She glances at him briefly, searching for a hint of his thoughts, but his expression remains inscrutable. The silence in the room is deafening, filled with unspoken questions and fears that hang heavily between them as she finishes getting ready.

She stands frozen in the same spot, her mind racing. How did she end up here? She had sworn she wouldn't come out of this unscathed, but somehow today, fate conspired against her, and Bradley overheard her on the phone. She swears on her parents' graves that she never meant for it to happen. It was really the wine that led her to make those choices…

            

        **Flashbacks***

 

Fresh from a shower, she wrapped a towel around herself and wandered through the house, preparing dinner for one. Thembelani, her firstborn, Zwelibanzi, her second, and little Noluvo were all away visiting their aunt. After finishing her meal, she poured herself a generous glass of wine, and soon enough, she found herself nearly finishing off the entire bottle. The alcohol coursed through her veins, leaving her feeling fuzzy and strangely aroused.Just as she was lost in thought, contemplating touching herself for a little pleasure, a knock at the door jolted her back to reality. She reluctantly rose and opened it to find Glen standing there. As she closed the door behind him, he stepped inside.

"I'm sorry for arriving this late. I was in the area and thought I’d check in on my son. Is he around?" he asked.

"Well, do you see him here?" she replied with a hint of sarcasm.

"He hasn’t come by this time; he mentioned something about delays," she continued, trying to keep her tone light despite the tension brewing in her mind.

"Ohh, okay then. I should be going," he said, but before he could leave, she stopped him.

"Come on! You can take a seat while I dish up some food for you. I can’t let my father-in-law leave his son’s place without eating," she insisted with a warm smile. And to her surprise, he accepted the invitation and settled into a chair at the kitchen table. 

The atmosphere shifted as they shared small talk ,while he eats—her heart raced with each passing moment as thoughts of what might happen next swirled in her mind.

She watched him bring the food to his mouth, she couldn’t help but admire the strength in his arms. Each movement sent her mind spiraling into a whirlwind of inappropriate thoughts. Her body felt like it was on fire, a heat radiating from deep within her, intensifying the hunger she felt between her legs. Miraculously, she was wet.

“Thank you for the food, but I should get going now,” Glen said, breaking the spell and standing up, ready to leave. Something inside her surged, compelling her to rise from her chair and saunter over to him. She reached out, tiptoeing to kiss him, but he instinctively pushed her away.

“Are you crazy, woman?” he asked, a mix of confusion and surprise on his face.

“Please, Glen. I just need you to help me, just this once,” she pleaded, the wine-fueled desire spilling out in her voice. She tried everything—her eyes pleading, her body leaning closer—until she decided to unwrap the towel that clung to her body.

As she stepped closer, she took his hand in hers. He froze at the sight of her vulnerability, and she guided his hand down to where she was aching for him, wanting him to feel just how desperate she was. The air thickened with tension as their worlds collided in that moment of unspoken desire.

Glen's hands roamed Lulama's curves, deepening the kiss. Their bodies moved in sync, passion consuming them.

"Lulama, we can't..." Glen trailed off, his voice lost in desire.

"Don't think, just feel," Lulama whispered, her eyes locked on his.

The world around them melted away, leaving only the two of them, lost in the intensity of their forbidden connection.

As they surrendered to their desires, the lines between right and wrong blurred. Lulama felt Glen's warmth spread through her veins. Time stood still.

"Ohhh ,Ahhh Glen," she moaned, her 

Glen's eyes locked onto hers, filled with a mix of passion and guilt.

"Lulama, you know I'm betraying my son right," he said, his voice laced with concern.

Lulama's hands traced Glen's jawline.

"I know, but for now, just be with me,Just satisfy me Glen," she replied.Their lips met again, the world around them fading into the background.

 

   ***End OF FLASHBACKS****

 

 

Nine months later, she found herself in a hospital ward, being told to push. How could this be? She had never been pregnant; there were no signs of pregnancy at all! Yet, when she was instructed to push, she felt an undeniable urge to do so. As she pushed, a baby emerged into the world.

She didn’t need to be told that this baby was a mistake; she wasn’t supposed to come into this world. She feared she would ruin her marriage. Her mind was made up to leave the baby at the hospital and never look back. But who was she kidding? Her husband was called, and he arrived the following day, saw the child, and instantly loved her. He never let go of her. Her plan had failed, but her secret would go with her to the grave, no matter what. Yet here she was, sitting in front of her husband and the mistake of a daughter. Where was she supposed to start? How could she tell him that she had slept with his father one night when she was feeling reckless and got carried away? How could she explain that his father had impregnated her without knowing until nine months later when Ayakha was born? How could she tell him that Ayakha isn't his daughter but his little sister?

“Are you going to talk or not?” Bradley’s voice pulls her back from her thoughts.  

“I... My husband, please forgive me,” she says, tears streaming down her cheeks.  

“What is happening, Tata?” Ayakha asks her father, confused.  

“Your mother will tell us, my child. I want to know too,” Bradley replies.  

“I... It was a mistake, I swear! It wasn’t supposed to happen! I was…” She pauses, struggling to find the words.  

“Ayakha is not your daughter, Bradley,” she says it as if a horse is kicking her chest to make her speak.  

“What?” The word escapes Ayakha’s lips as a whisper.  

“She... she is your sister instead. I slept with Glen, your father. But I promise it was once, and it was a mistake. It was my fault; I was drunk and needed attention.” She collapses into a sobbing mess on her knees.  

“Out of all people, you... you chose to open your legs to my father, Lulama?” Bradley asks calmly, disbelief washing over him. He had thought Lulama was talking to someone else he knew well... but no—it was his father? His father had slept with his wife and impregnated her?  

“He came looking for you, but you weren’t here. So I asked him to stay since I had cooked, and he stayed. The alcohol in me betrayed me; I seduced him and... I did things I'm ashamed to say. Please forgive me, my husband,” she pleads through tears.  

“So... why did you treat Ayakha the way you did?” he asks, still remarkably calm.  

“I... She shouldn’t have come into this world; she is a product of my mistake! We wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t been born!” She yells and slaps Ayakha twice. Ayakha gasps in shock as tears were already streaming  down her face.  

“I hate you! Had you not come here, this wouldn’t have happened!” Lulama cries out.  

Bradley’s anger erupts as he slaps her more than twice, causing her body to collapse onto the floor.  

“How dare you slap my daughter in front of me!” he hisses.  

“She is not your daughter, dammit! She is your sister!” Lulama yells back, her hand stinging from the slaps she has received.

Ayakha rises from the couch, her mind racing and her head spinning. She grabs her small bag and heads toward the door. 

"Where are you going, my child?" Bradley asks, concern lacing his voice. Ayakha tries to respond, but the words get stuck in her throat. Instead, she pushes through the door and steps outside, pulling out her phone to call Mangaliso. He answers on the first ring.

"Miss me already?" he teases.

"Please come take me," she pleads, her voice barely a whisper.

"Are you okay, love?" he asks, sensing something is off.

"Now, Mangaliso Mazibuko!" she yells before hanging up in frustration.

‘He is not your daughter, dammit! She is your sister!’ The words echo in her mind, and she shakes her head as tears blur her vision while she walks down the stret. 

"No! No, it’s a lie!" she screams at herself, desperate for someone to wake her from this nightmare. How could this be happening?

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