Sihle 

A young Sihle, barely in his teens, nervously clutches a letter. The moonlight casts a soft glow on his troubled expression. He reads the letter with a mixture of fear and excitement.

I miss you, Sihle. I wish we could be together, openly, without fear. But for now, let us keep this between us. Until we are free.

Sihle tucks the letter into a hidden compartment in his drawer, his heart heavy with the weight of their secret.

Maybe he should have run after him, eloped with him, or something. Maybe he wouldn’t be in this situation with an unwanted marriage. His father had advised him to marry Bongiwe, seeing how long they have been together.

Sihle is close to all his brothers, but since this one seems to know more than the others, he spends more time with him. Like now, Sihle is in the passenger seat of Ntaba’s car, which is slowly driving back to the Khanyile ranch. No way was he going to drive with his wife. He didn’t want her anywhere near him. 

He has not said anything since he was told there’s a little him on the way. The reporters were politely asked to leave under the pretext that the family was having dinner privately. Dinner was awkward. The four younger brothers seemed to catch whatever their big brother had. None of them talked with their parents or the Khanyile bride. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Who died?” Vumile had asked them and got no answer in return, which, in turn, made everything more awkward. Ever dined with an elephant standing tall in the room? That’s how thick the tension was.

 “Do you want Toppers?” Ntaba asks, to break the quietness that’s long been at home.

The ride has been silent, save for the radio playing softly. Sihle shoots a glance at him, brows elevated. 

“Chocolate-flavoured toppers are nice.”

That’s just too random of Ntaba. “You still eat that shit?” When Ntaba was eleven, he ate those biscuits every day for a week until his stomach couldn’t stomach it. They made him sick, and his father had no choice but to use an enema. 

“You don’t know heaven until you’ve tasted chocolate-flavoured toppers.” Ntaba. “And you don’t know hell until you’ve eaten more than you should.” Sihle. 

Ntaba is the only one who finds it funny, his brother is too stressed to laugh. The silence that was kicked out finds its way back in, a deep sigh from Sihle chases it out again and causes wrinkles on Ntaba’s forehead. He gives Sihle a brief look to find him glancing out the window, head on the seat’s headrest.

 “I told you that I had condoms,” Random Ntaba starts, too serious one would think he’s an idiot to say such things with a grave expression. 

“Not now Ntaba.” The dismissal is ignored, of course, he would. He is Vumile’s son, after all. 

“Did you sleep with her?”This is none of his business. Ntaba is taking things too far. They never discuss what they do in the bedroom with their significant others.

Maybe the younger brothers do, but Sihle is too strict and too stand offish to be approached with the topic of the birds and the bees. 

“We’re married.” Surprisingly, Sihle provides an answer.

 “What about Koti?” Team Thabiso… This one seems to be cheering for him. Sihle looks at him, he seems to have expected this question and has some kind of defensive strategy in place. He clears his throat and straightens his back, giving the impression of strength. But he can’t fool the man on the steering wheel. 

“I don’t understand Ntaba. How do you know so much?” He won’t be specific, yet. Just testing the waters. 

“You’re my brother, you raised me. There’s nothing I don’t know about you.”

Sihle does not answer, not that he doesn’t have one. He is just too confused to speak. “Do you want me to drag the truth out of you?” Ntaba persists. 

A sigh, “It must be all over the news by now.” He is talking about the baby announcement. “He’s going to see it and think…” Sihle gazes out the window and releases another sigh.“He doesn’t strike me as the type that watches TV. Even if he does, where is the harm in that? Unless you’ve already told him how you feel.” Ntaba.

Sihle tips his head back and glances over at his brother. “I did, I told him I want to be with him.”

“Rich Forrester, look at the mess you’ve gotten yourself into.” Ntaba.His brothers are hilarious to tease, especially Sihle because he always looks tense and powerful, and people are afraid of him. But Ntaba goes to an extent to throw him off. 

“I know.” Of course, he knows.

“Bongiwe can’t be pregnant, she was on birth control.” 

“You believed her when she told you this?”

 “I had no reason to doubt her, we’ve been married for three years and not once did she bring the baby topic up. Just the other day she was telling me we should have kids, four weeks later she’s pregnant.” He has his doubts.

“Bongiwe is a fighter bhuti, she’s going to fight for this marriage. You know that, right?” Ntaba tells him. He does; he sees it in her eyes every day.

 “If you’re going to love someone else, make sure you tell her, so she knows where she stands. The road won’t be easy, but you need to follow your heart. Choose yourself.” Ntaba sounds too serious, it’s crazy. Sihle is taken deep into thought, it lasts a second. He’s back to looking at his brother.

 “You’re so invested in my business; you still have to tell me why you were arrested.” It feels like aeons ago. Ntaba frowns and shrugs his broad shoulders.

 “It’s nothing serious.” And that’s final, Sihle doesn’t probe further.