Banele and I both stared at the five pregnancy tests on the bed. We stared in disbelief, he had his hands around me, as I weeped.

“Not even one is negative.” I sobbed.

He brushed my back gently, as he patiently waited for me to stop crying. 

“What am I going to do? People are going to laugh at me. Look at the pregnant virgin!” I cried.

“Don’t worry about people, babe.” Banele soothed me.

“I do worry!” I pulled away from him and stood on the other end of the bed.

“We will figure it out.” Banele said.

“Figure what out? I’m 15! And pregnant! You’re 18, Banele! What are we going to do with a whole child?” I asked.

“We will figure it out.” He repeated.

“There’s nothing to figure out. I don’t want it.” I decided.

“What?” He shouted.

“I don’t want this child.”

“You’re not killing my child!” Banele yelled at me.

“Banele, we are kids. How will we raise it?” I asked him, crying.

“I’ll ask my parents for help. We are not killing my baby!”

“My body, my choice.” I said.

I think I learnt that in LO