Must Read: Love Diary

7 years ago

Must Read: Love Diary

“You said everything is connected. You wanted to tell me when you see me. I am here now.” I said.

“I should tell you here?” Her eyes flickered with fear.

“Why not? Who is behind this?”

She came closed and lowered her voice. “Sergeant Zithembe.”

I was shocked by her revelation. Suddenly, floods of memories began to come back. “Your Fiancé? The Policeman?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Why will he want to frame me? Why?
I don’t understand?” I was confused.

“Remember when I told you my father was sick and that he was in the hospital.”

“Yes.” I said.

“When I got to the hospital, they told me what happened.” She said.

“It’s connected to what is happening now?

What happened?” I asked. My mind was analyzing things fast. I can’t pinpoint what is wrong yet.

“Zithembe and I are betrothed. As my Fiancé, even though he has been treating me bad, there is nothing I could do because tradition said he will marry me. My father and his father are tight friends. They are both top government officials in this Province. I didn’t want to do something stupid or disappoint my father.

I was ready to endure the whole thing.” She said.

I nodded. She continued, “However, I was told that Zithembe has been sleeping around with a lot of the local girls in this district.”

“What? Really?” Wonders shall never end.

“When I was in Nigeria, my elder brother told me that my father paid him an unannounced visit to his house, and he caught him red handed. That was what triggered the mild heart attack. My father fainted. Zithembe quickly put on his clothes and rushed him to the hospital.”

“Sorry dear. The guy has given your family a lot of pain.” I felt the pain.

“My father trusted him. He treated him like a son and he betrayed him. When my father recovered, he felt Zithembe has betrayed his trust. He met with the elders and they did the whole traditional rites.” She said.

“Traditional rites for what?” I asked.

She gave me a look like I was supposed to know what she was talking about, “What he did was a taboo. We were betrothed to each other. It was a taboo for him to cheat on me.

So, they meted out the punishment. They did the traditional rites and broke the betrothal bonds and set us free. He is now free to marry whoever he wants to marry. I am free to marry who ever I want to marry,” she said. I noticed a glint of happiness in her eyes.

“Okay. How did it connect to what happened to me?” I asked.

“My father was still angry with him for what he did. What he did destroyed the friendship shared by his family and ours. My father used his connections and I don’t how he did it but Zithembe was demoted from a rank of captain to the rank of an ordinary sergeant. When Zithembe received the news of his demotion from his superiors, he was very upset. He came to my house and was shouting. That was when you sent the message. Before I could get my phone, he has gotten to it first. He got the message that said you will be at the station in 30 minutes and he was boiling in jealousy.

Whenever he is around me, he always wants to check my phone and check my messages.

When he looked at the table and noticed that my phone was buzzing a message tone, he rushed quickly and read the message and he was furious immediately”

“But he is no longer betrothed to you and he doesn’t want to marry you, why will he still be jealous?”

“He doesn’t want me and he doesn’t want another man to want me or desire me.

He wants me to suffer. He wants every man to see me the way he sees me. He wants any man that sees me to detest me and avoid me. He just wants me to be nothing without him.

And he hates Nigerians. When he discovered what he thought was happening, he swore that he would rather let another Zulu man suffer and rot with me throughout his life than let a Nigerian man marry me.”

Sh*t. This is so wrong.

“How did he know that I am a Nigerian?” I asked.

She looked down. Is she being shy? “Because of what I used to save your contact. He saw the name of the contact that sent the message,” she said.

“My dear, what name did you use?”

I know it was wrong of me to ask her but I want to know what really happened.

“My Nigerian Love,” she said. Her voice was like a whisper.