Chapter 1:
The Night I Wanted to Disappear
The cold air bit at my skin as I stumbled barefoot through the bushes, my breath short, sharp, painful. Each inhale burned. I didn't know where I was running to, but I couldn't stay. Not after what happened. Not after what I saw.
Tears blurred my vision as branches whipped against my arms. My nightdress—soaked and torn—clung to me like the memories I couldn't escape. I didn't scream anymore. I had screamed enough. Now, silence had taken over. But inside… I was breaking. Loudly.
"Bangibambe... bangikhiphe emotini..." I whispered to myself, the Zulu words still stuck in my throat from earlier that night. But now they were fading—drowning in the echo of my racing heartbeat.
I reached a clearing, chest heaving, legs shaking. I dropped to my knees and tilted my face toward the sky. The stars offered no comfort. Not tonight.
I wanted to disappear.
But then...
"Hey," a voice called softly behind me.
I spun around, startled, fists raised like a scared animal.
A woman stood at the edge of the trees. Tall. Calm. Her face partially lit by the moonlight. She wore a long brown hoodie and dark jeans. Her hands were raised in surrender.
"I'm not here to hurt you," she said gently. "I heard you crying."
I stared at her, breath caught in my throat. I didn't answer. I couldn't.
She took a slow step forward. "My name is Naledi."
Still, I said nothing.
Her eyes studied me, kind but cautious. She crouched down a few feet away, not too close—like she understood. "Are you okay?"
I almost laughed. Am I okay? What a ridiculous question.
But something in her voice made me want to speak, even if I didn't have words. I looked away and whispered, "No."
Silence stretched between us. A gentle, respectful silence.
Naledi didn't push me. She just sat down in the dirt with me, pulled her hoodie tighter around her, and waited. Like she knew some things couldn't be rushed.
After a few minutes, she offered her hand—not to touch, just to show it was there. "You don't have to tell me anything. But you're not alone tonight. Okay?"
I bit my lip. My whole body trembled from cold and fear and shame. "I wasn't supposed to run," I murmured. "But I couldn't stay."
Naledi nodded slowly. "Then I'm glad you ran. Whatever made you run, it wasn't worth staying for."
I blinked. No one had ever said that to me before.
She didn't ask where I came from. She didn't ask why I was bleeding. She just looked at me like I mattered. And that was enough to make the tears fall all over again.
Naledi pulled off her hoodie and offered it to me. "Here. You're freezing."
I hesitated before taking it. The warmth felt foreign—like something I didn't deserve. But I put it on anyway.
We sat in silence for a while. Birds chirped softly in the distance. The wind rustled the leaves above us. For once, I didn't feel like I had to keep running.
"I don't even know your name," Naledi said after a while.
"…Zukhanyi," I whispered.
She smiled. "That's beautiful."
No one had ever said my name was beautiful before.
"Do you live around here?" I asked, voice shaky.
She shook her head. "I don't really live anywhere. I just walk. It helps me breathe."
I nodded slowly. "Me too."
That was the first night we shared. No past. No details. Just presence. I didn't know she would become the one person who'd teach me how to breathe again.
But that night, I finally slept—right there in the grass beside her. For the first time in months, I wasn't afraid of closing my eyes.