Chapter 1 - THE WOMAN WHO CALLED MY HUSBANDNOMVULA
There are two things I have learned about my husband over the years.
The first is that Mzikayise Mthembu can walk into a room full of dangerous men and make them nervous without raising his voice.
The second is that whenever he has something to hide, he becomes unusually affectionate.
So when Mzi returns from the gym, kisses my forehead three times, and asks whether I want him to prepare breakfast before we go out, I immediately become suspicious.
Not because I think he is cheating.
I have never had a reason to question his loyalty.
But I know my husband.
And something is bothering him.
"Your phone rang while you were outside," I tell him.
He takes a bottle of water from the refrigerator.
"Who was it?"
"Someone saved as Ms. Naledi."
The bottle stops halfway to his mouth.
It is such a small movement that another person probably wouldn't notice.
I do.
"What did she say?" he asks.
"Good morning to you too, Major General."
He smiles.
"Good morning, my beautiful wife."
"Better."
I fold my arms.
"She wanted you to call her."
"Okay."
"Who is she?"
"Someone I work with."
I raise an eyebrow.
"That is an interesting answer, considering you told me yesterday that you were gradually handing over your responsibilities."
"I am."
"Then why does someone need you so early in the morning?"
"Nomvula."
There it is.
The tone.
Not angry. Not exactly impatient.
The voice he uses when a conversation is moving toward a subject he does not want to discuss.
I don't like it.
"Don't Nomvula me. I asked a simple question."
He places the bottle on the counter.
"Naledi is involved in an internal review. There are some things I cannot discuss until the review is complete."
"What kind of review?"
"Military administration."
I study his face.
"Does it have anything to do with Kayise?"
For the first time since he walked into the kitchen, he looks away.
My stomach tightens.
"Mzi?"
He sighs.
"Everything is fine."
"That wasn't my question."
"Our daughter is doing well."
"How would you know? You told me she probably doesn't have access to her phone."
He doesn't answer immediately.
And somehow, that silence frightens me more than anything he could say.
"Have you been checking on her without telling me?"
"I have contacts at the academy."
"Of course you do. You're a Major General."
"Nomvula—"
"No. I want you to answer me honestly. Has something happened to our daughter?"
He walks toward me and places both hands on my shoulders.
"Kayise is safe. I promise you."
I want to believe him.
I really do.
But there is something in his eyes that reminds me of the years when he was still actively involved in dangerous operations.
The years when he would leave home smiling and return with nightmares he refused to explain.
I move away from his hands.
"You promised you would let her experience this journey without interfering."
"I haven't interfered."
"Then why are you monitoring her?"
"Because I am her father."
"And I am her mother."
His expression softens.
"I know."
"No, Mzi. Sometimes I don't think you do."
He looks surprised.
I take a breath.
"Kayise has spent her entire life trying to become strong enough to impress you. Every time she achieves something, she looks at you first. Every time she makes a mistake, she's afraid of disappointing you."
"She doesn't have to impress me."
"Have you ever told her that?"
He opens his mouth.
Then closes it.
Exactly.
I love this man with everything I have.
But loving someone doesn't mean pretending their mistakes don't exist.
"Please," I say quietly. "Let our daughter become her own person."
He looks at me for a long moment.
Then he nods.
"I'll try."
I smile faintly.
"That's all I'm asking."
He kisses my forehead.
"Now, can I take my wife to breakfast?"
"Only if you're paying."
He laughs.
"When have you ever paid?"
"Don't start."
For a few minutes, everything feels normal again.
We get dressed and leave the house.
He drives with one hand resting on my thigh, occasionally rubbing his thumb against my skin.
We talk about the restaurant, about a friend's upcoming wedding, and about whether we should renovate the guest bedrooms.
But every few minutes, his phone vibrates.
And every time, he ignores it.
Eventually, I place my hand over his.
"Mzi."
"Yes, love?"
"Answer your phone."
"It's not important."
"Then why do you keep looking at it?"
He exhales.
At the next traffic light, he picks it up.
Whatever he reads makes his jaw tighten.
"Everything okay?" I ask.
"Yes."
Another lie.
I don't confront him.
Not yet.
We reach the restaurant, and he insists on ordering my favorite breakfast.
For the next hour, he makes me laugh until my stomach hurts.
This is the Mzi I love.
The man who knows how to make ordinary moments feel special.
The man who held me when I thought my past would destroy me.
The man who stayed beside me through Kayise's complicated pregnancy, when doctors warned him that he might lose both his wife and his daughter.
But when we return home, something happens that changes the entire atmosphere.
Mzi goes upstairs to take a work call.
I am putting away my handbag when my own phone rings.
An unfamiliar number.
I answer.
"Hello?"
"Mrs. Mthembu?"
"Speaking."
"My name is Naledi Dlamini."
My heartbeat changes.
"Ms. Naledi?"
"Yes. I apologize for contacting you directly."
"Is this about my husband?"
There is a pause.
"Partly."
I straighten.
"What do you mean?"
"Mrs. Mthembu, I work with an independent military oversight office. I have been reviewing certain activities at your daughter's academy."
The room suddenly feels too quiet.
"Has something happened to Kayise?"
"Your daughter is not currently under investigation for wrongdoing."
Currently.
I don't like that word.
"Then why are you calling me?"
"Because I believe she may be involved in something without her knowledge."
I grab the back of a chair.
"Involved in what?"
"I cannot discuss the details over an unsecured call. I need to meet you."
"Why not speak to my husband?"
Another silence.
Then she says something that sends a cold sensation through my entire body.
"Because your husband's name appears on one of the authorization documents."
I look toward the staircase.
Mzi is still upstairs.
"What documents?"
"Mrs. Mthembu, has your husband ever mentioned a former academy cadet named Lerato Maseko?"
"No."
"Then ask him."
"Why?"
Naledi lowers her voice.
"Because six months ago, that young woman was subjected to a series of psychological assessments that should never have been approved."
"What happened to her?"
"I am trying to establish the full truth."
My mouth goes dry.
"Is she dead?"
"No. But the academy's official version of what happened to her is not accurate."
I hear footsteps upstairs.
Mzi is coming down.
Naledi speaks quickly.
"Please meet me tomorrow. And until then, don't mention this call to anyone."
"Not even my husband?"
"Especially not your husband."
Before I can respond, she adds one final sentence.
"Mrs. Mthembu, your daughter isn't the first brilliant young woman they have tried to break."
The call ends.
And when I look up, my husband is standing at the bottom of the staircase.
Watching me.
"Who was that, Nomvula?"
I stare at the man I have loved for most of my adult life.
For the first time in years, I wonder whether I know everything about him.
"Wrong number," I say.
His expression doesn't change.
May you like
But his next words make my blood run cold.
"Then why did she call you Mrs. Mthembu?"
