Chapter 7: Long time no see

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Miracles do happen, Sinikiwe thought as she trudged up the long driveway from the grand entrance gates of the sprawling farm.

After years of financial struggle and living on the edge of poverty, this steady, well-paying job had finally come her way.

Being a housemaid was nothing glamorous, but there was no shame in it, she reminded herself. For five years, steady, formal employment had eluded her. Every attempt had been blocked.

At first, she thought it was just bad luck, but eventually, she realized she’d been deliberately shut out. George Njolomba and his company had kept their word.But she had endured, worked hard, knowing she had to stay strong.

If it had only been about her, it wouldn’t have mattered-what odd job hadn’t she done? Garbage collection, laundry, car washing, fetching water where the supply was sporadic…If she listed it all on a resume, it would be impressive, she mused.

Her latest job was as a cashier at a small mini-mart, until she met Mrs. Elizabeth Njolomba. Though she loved the job, despite knowing she was down and out, Elizabeth had mercilessly humiliated and fired her two hours later without compensation.

She had been one of the best employees, giving more than her all, and she’d depended on that paycheck for the mounting hospital bills.The painful memory pushed her steps faster along the gravel driveway. To her left stretched a forest, while to her right was an enclosure for a racetrack and sports field.

A lone rider on a majestic black stallion circled, perfectly attuned to her movements. Mesmerized, Sinikiwe watched for a moment, then turned away, hurrying onward.Soon the land cleared to reveal a magnificent glass mansion embraced by a lush garden.

A grand fountain sprayed water in a dozen synchronized arcs. An elderly man tending the landscaping turned as she approached.

“Good morning, young lady. How can I help?”

Sinikiwe smiled warmly, introducing herself as a new hire from MaDalitso Maid Centre.

“Sinikiwe Gwaba? Mrs. Mulenga is my wife. She’s the head maid and has been expecting you. Just go around the house-you’ll find her there.”

“Thank you, I’ll go find her.”

With a nod, the man returned to his work.

Sinikiwe circled the house and soon found Mrs. Mulenga, who proved to be friendly and chatty.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

As Sinikiwe inspected the two-bedroom house a kilometer from the main mansion; complete with a bath, kitchen, and living area.

Mrs. Mulenga stood in the doorway.

“It’s nice, thank you. The kids will love it,” Sinikiwe said, genuine. After months in shelters, they might finally have a place to call home.

Tears welled but she blinked them away quickly.

Life had tested her fiercely. Only months ago, she and the children had been homeless, enduring icy, rainy nights under a bridge. It was during that time Chitontozo’s illness returned, forcing a hospital stay.

Without a donor transplant, his survival was bleak. They’d wanted to discharge him days ago, but she pleaded for more time.She couldn’t take him to a shelter.

Her mind raced with worry; this new job came with housing, the last place her son might call home.

“I’m glad you like it,” Mrs. Mulenga said. “All that’s left is to sign the contract. You can start on Monday—is that too soon?”

“No, Monday is fine.”

Three days gave Sinikiwe just enough time to prepare. She planned to move in by the day’s end. Having sold almost all her belongings to cover hospital bills, only clothes and a few appliances remained.

“How old are your children?” Mrs. Mulenga asked as they headed up the house.

“Fourteen and seven.”

”Twins?”

Sinikiwe nodded.

“Can’t wait to meet them.” Mrs Mulenga smiled, handing over the contract in the kitchen along with a salary advance of half her pay.

They then discussed work conditions, and Mrs. Mulenga introduced her to the staff. By noon, Sinikiwe parted ways, promising to return that evening.

Back at her new home, she aimed to clean before bringing the kids over. Mrs. Mulenga had kindly offered a broom and mop, which awaited her inside.

Midway through cleaning, a soft tap came at the door.

“It’s open,” she called, kneeling on the wooden floor.

A familiar, deep voice responded, “It’s you after all.”

Sinikiwe froze, fear gripping her like never before. Many things had scared her, but this moment was worst. She slowly stood, gripping the mop tight.

George Njolomba leaned casually against the doorway.In the silence, all Sinikiwe heard was her heart pounding and the steady drip from the mop.

“Sir George,” she whispered.

He had not changed-still as handsome, if not more.

But his gaze was cold and full of resentment.“Sinikiwe Gwaba. Fancy meeting you here,” he said dryly, his baritone once melting her bones.

Seven years were long. She expected her knees to weaken, her heart to flip as before but they didn’t. Only fear remained. Tears glistened as a lump formed in her throat.

She cleared it, hoping he wouldn’t notice her terror.

“Sir George, what are you doing here?”

“That’s my line. But I’ll answer: I live here. I own this place.”

Hopelessness surged.

The rag mop wrung tighter, water pooling at her feet as she stared in disbelief.

She wanted to scream at fate. Why offer hope then snatch it away? Her chest tightened; tears finally spilled. She needed air.

Despite the wide-open windows, suffocation clawed at her.Backing away, she rubbed her heart, shaking her head. How had she almost brought her children to the lion’s den?

“So, now you work as a maid?” George asked, amusement clear. “It kind of suits you.”

Hatred in his voice was unmistakable.

Sinikiwe wanted to laugh-more from frustration than joy. Don’t bother pretending you hate me. I’ve known that every day for seven years. I despise you just as much-maybe more. Her brave alter ego wanted to shout.

“What are you doing here?” he pressed, voice turning threatening.

Thoughts of Chimwemwe, Chitontozo, and Mapalo flooded her heart. Guilt rose for putting them at risk, fresh tears falling.

“How did you end up here?” George asked, puzzled by her silence.

“I…I…” Words failed.

She frantically searched for her bag but couldn’t recall where she left it.

It didn’t matter.

She needed to leave.

She could replace belongings but not her children’s peace of mind.Turning, she hurried to the kitchen and exited through the door left open to air the house.

Unfamiliar with the grounds, she guessed which way to go, desperate to put distance between herself and the past.