I had not seen Simbongile since I got back. I sent her a text two days ago and I had not heard from her since. My guilty conscience was cleansed knowing that I had finally come clean in choosing her sister. I hoped one day she would find someone who would love her wholeheartedly.

“You are becoming a man now,” my father said walking in. He gave me a lopsided smile, looking at me through the mirror. “Have you told Simbongile? How did she take the news?”

I nodded, looking at myself in the mirror. “I sent her a text.”

My father patted me on the back and nodded. “You did a good thing, son, now you can have a fresh new start without any guilt.” He hugged me before slipping out of the room so that I could finish up.

“I think that you have already said enough, Dad,” I said, smiling at myself as I fixed my bow tie.

When I didn’t get a response, my smile fell. “Dad?” I turned around. My eyes grew wide and my heart started racing so fast that I was sure it would stop at any second. Simbongile.

She didn’t look angry as she looked at me, starting from the shoes to the top of my head. Why wasn’t she saying anything?

“You look handsome,” she said with such ease that it scared me.

“Simbongile,” I said in utter confusion.

My throat had gone dry, and no amount of me swallowing saliva could erase any dryness. I opened my mouth and closed it again, making me look like a fish.

She took one step closer towards me and stopped midway, “You know it was so easy to find you. A woman scorned is very dangerous. I read your text by the way, talking about it’s not you, it’s me and how you are sorry. I thought you loved me.”

“I do.” I scratched my head. “I did.” I looked down at my sparkling shoes, trying to come up with a better answer. “I love your sister now, Simbongile.” Saying the words out loud left me feeling light.

Tears ran down her cheeks. All the self-composure she had finally slipped. I hated seeing her cry like this and knowing that I was the cause of her tears. I wasn’t planning to see her fall apart because of me. I wanted to cover her in a tight embrace, but I didn’t. I stayed rooted in my spot, not daring to move.

She took out a butcher knife from her ranch coat and pointed it towards me. “You didn’t want to hurt me? But you chose to destroy me, Junior, you lied to me, you all lied to me.” She moved closer towards me. “My parents, I can understand, since they have never actually given a damn about me. But it is you that hurt me the most.”

“Let’s talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she shouted.

“You are angry,” I tried to reason.

She let out a manic laugh as she zoned in on me. “You think?” I didn’t even see when and how she got so close to me. I didn’t even feel the knife when it made contact with my stomach, the cold metal unfamiliar on my skin as it sliced through.

A sharp pain overwhelmed me as the knife came deeper into my stomach. I started losing consciousness. This can’t be the way that I die, I thought to myself as my eyes started to close.

Tell us: what do you think will happen next?