Chapter 5 - THE OFFICE THAT REMEMBERED MEBy Monday morning, the doctors considered me stable enough to discuss leaving the hospital soon.
They wanted follow-up care, additional testing, and a clear medication plan.
I wanted something else.
My office.
Sphandla had promised to take me there on Monday.
But after everything I'd learned, I no longer wanted him standing beside me while I searched for my own past.
I called Leila.
She answered before the second ring.
“Ndoni?”
Her voice cracked.
“Thank God. I've been hoping you'd call.”
“I'm sorry. I know this must be strange.”
“Strange?” She let out a shaky laugh. “You disappeared from our lives after the accident, and every time I tried to visit, somebody said you weren't well enough.”
I stared at the window.
“Who said that?”
“Your husband's office. Sometimes his aunt.”
“His aunt?”
“Celia Zwide.”
I had heard the name.
Sphandla mentioned her occasionally.
He described her as brilliant, demanding, and impossible to impress.
He had also said she helped run the family company.
“Leila, I need to come to the studio.”
“Then come. Your desk is still exactly the way you left it.”
Two days later, after receiving instructions from my medical team, I arrived at Juniper & Stone Interiors with a hospital-approved transportation service and a woman named Mara Jacobs.
Mara was a lawyer.
More specifically, she was the attorney I'd apparently hired before the accident.
Detective Nkosi had helped me reconnect with her.
Mara had short silver-streaked hair, a calm voice, and the kind of expression that suggested she had never been intimidated by an expensive suit.
When she met me outside the hospital, she shook my hand.
“I'm glad to see you, Ndoni.”
“Do you remember me?”
She smiled gently.
“Very well.”
“Then we're already one step ahead.”
That earned a laugh.
I liked her immediately.
The studio occupied the second floor of an old brick building in Johannesburg.
Its windows were tall, its walls painted warm cream, and the entrance was filled with potted plants.
A wooden sign beside the door read:
JUNIPER & STONE INTERIORS
Spaces for living. Places for belonging.
Something tightened in my chest.
I reached out and touched the sign.
It was mine.
I couldn't explain how I knew.
I just did.
Inside, employees looked up from their desks.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then a young man with glasses stood so quickly that his chair rolled backward.
“Boss?”
I laughed before I could stop myself.
“Apparently.”
He crossed the room and hugged me.
Others followed.
Their concern was genuine.
Their relief was overwhelming.
For the first time since waking up, I wasn't being treated like a fragile stranger.
I was being welcomed home.
Leila appeared from a glass-walled office.
Her eyes filled with tears.
“You look better.”
“I feel like I've been gone for years.”
She hugged me tightly.
“You gave us all a scare.”
We spent the next hour walking through the studio.
There were fabric samples arranged by color.
Architectural models.
Photographs of completed homes.
Sketches for restaurants and libraries.
One entire wall displayed pictures of public spaces we'd designed for low-income communities.
I stopped in front of a photograph showing children reading beneath colorful murals.
“Did we do this?”
Leila nodded.
“An old community center. You insisted we could make it beautiful without spending a fortune.”
I studied the photograph.
The children looked happy.
The room was bright.
There were shelves filled with books and tables built from reclaimed wood.
Something warm moved through me.
I couldn't remember creating it.
But I was proud of the woman who had.
My office was at the back.
A large wooden desk stood beneath the window.
Beside it was an old coffee machine.
The shelves held design books, framed certificates, and photographs.
One picture showed Sphandla and me at an outdoor event.
We were laughing.
He had his arm around my waist.
I picked it up.
“When was this?”
Leila came closer.
“About two years ago.”
“Were we happy?”
She hesitated.
“You had good times.”
“That wasn't my question.”
Her expression softened.
“Yes, Ndoni. I believe you were happy once.”
I looked down at the photograph.
That hurt more than I expected.
Because it meant the love hadn't necessarily been fake.
Something real had existed.
Something that had eventually gone terribly wrong.
Leila opened a drawer.
“I kept your personal files locked away. I didn't know what else to do.”
Inside were notebooks, sketches, and a small black flash drive.
My pulse quickened.
“What's that?”
Leila frowned.
“I don't know. It wasn't here before the accident.”
Mara stepped closer.
“Don't plug it in yet. Let's preserve it properly.”
I nodded.
Then I noticed an envelope beneath it.
My name was written across the front.
The handwriting was unmistakably mine.
I opened it carefully.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
Ndoni,
If you're reading this, something has gone wrong.
Don't let them convince you that you imagined what happened.
The evidence isn't where Jason thinks it is.
Look behind the drawing of the blue house.
I lifted my eyes toward the wall.
There were several framed sketches.
One showed a small blue house beneath a flowering tree.
My hands began to shake.
Leila helped me remove it.
Behind the frame was a second envelope.
Inside lay a photograph of a legal document.
At the bottom was a signature.
Jason Zwide.
Beside it was an authorization for a multimillion-rand transfer connected to Eastbank.
Mara studied the page.
Then her expression changed.
“Ndoni, this isn't just evidence of a bad business decision.”
“What is it?”
She turned the photograph toward me.
“This payment went to a company that doesn't appear in the public project records.”
I swallowed.
“Who owns it?”
Mara pointed to the second signature.
CELIA ZWIDE.
May you like
And beneath her name was an instruction that made my knees weaken.
PAYMENT APPROVED FOR SITE CLEARANCE—NO FURTHER DELAYS.
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