The very first night, after our traditional wedding, you were so gentle. You kept showering me with love and kisses and hugs and sweet nothings. You fed me, we had champagne. My first time was everything I’d ever wanted and dreamt of

I had screamed your name the whole night, and the next morning, my throat was sore. I was happy I had lost my pride to you, and you seemed content with me. 

I couldn’t stop drooling over your beautiful muscled body, as you walked around the house naked the next morning, you kept teasing me and dancing and singing and kissing me. We were happy, Mthandeni, weren’t we?

Two weeks after our first night, and many more pleasurable nights as husband and wife, in our four storey house, with seven bedrooms, and a large swimming pool, I started getting sick, Mthandeni. 

I threw up every chance I got, and I saw the worry in your dark eyes. You hugged me, you brought me food, you hushed me when I cried for no reason, you were loving.

After another week, without getting better, we decided, it was time to see a doctor, he gave us the happiest news of our lives, Mthandeni, don’t you remember? I was pregnant! Our first child, Mthandeni!

You were happy, my love. I was happy. Baby, we were happy! We started planning for the official wedding, you insisted on a Paris wedding, I was overjoyed!

You flew my family, and your family to Paris, and we married, officially, in the city of love.