"Vuyo, please… just do this for us," Amahle pleaded as he ate his dinner. She sat opposite him, her face pale and her voice trembling.
Vuyo continued munching his food without saying a word.
"Vuyo," his wife called again, "you know I've been waiting to hear what you're about to tell me. You've been begging me all this while without any clear reason."
He finally responded, now washing his hands in the ceramic bowl Amahle had offered him.
"Ngifuna ungimelele esikoleni, Sani. (I want you to replace me at my school)," Amahle said softly.
Vuyo looked up at her in shock, unsure if he had heard correctly.
"As in… what? A teacher now?" he asked.
"I'm sick, you know that. You need to support me as my husband
"Must it be this worthless teaching job? I can't teach, Madam Vuyo," he added, shaking his head.
"You can," Amahle insisted. "The director is willing to employ you to fill the gap I'll be leaving at school. For weeks now, the students haven't been taught Agricultural Science because—"
Amahle's words were cut short as Vuyo interrupted her.
"Oh God! What is all this pressure?" he exclaimed. "Can you at least give me some time to think about it?"
"Nothing to think about, Vuyo. We need money for my surgery, and this is the fastest way you can help me—since you don't want to find a job," Amahle said, her voice now firm and serious, with a hint of urgency.
"Hey, hey, woman… are you insulting me now?" he snapped.
She pursed her lips immediately. "Sorry, sir," she said softly, then fell silent, trying to calm his rising anger.
It had been one week since he was employed at Bhisho High School. Due to his physique, everyone saw him as a serious, no-nonsense man. At least, the job kept him busy. He no longer overslept in the mornings or moved about sluggishly.
His wife, Amahle, on the other hand, struggled daily. She often forced herself into the kitchen despite intense abdominal pain, trying to care for the household. Each day became harder for the poor woman. Her once youthful beauty began to fade, and she rarely found the strength to take care of herself because of her illness.
Medication became part of her daily routine, and preparations for her surgery gradually took over her life.Things were not easy, but at least she held on to a small sense of hope that Vuyo would be paid at the end of the month and that they would both open a savings account for her surgery.
Vuyo insisted that she could run to her sisters for help, but Amahle firmly refused. They had never accepted her marriage to him, and somehow, she feared they might be right. Running to them for financial help might only deepen their resentment toward her husband.
But recently, she had begun to see reason in their actions.
Amahle, now a barren woman, was already married to Vuyo and had nowhere else to go. Who would accept her with her condition? Despite everything, she still loved Vuyo, and she was relieved that he had finally taken her place at the school.
She noticed a change in him. Vuyo was becoming more serious about his job.
He became increasingly busy with research, trying to understand the present curriculum and prepare upcoming quizzes for the students. She was amazed at his dedication to the work she had left behind. Deep down, she felt it might be the beginning of him becoming more responsible—a true grown man.
On a Friday night, Amahle lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The room was dark and quiet, the door closed and the window slightly open.
She waited for her husband, who had not returned home even by 8:30 p.m.
Amahle no longer understood her marriage. What exactly was going on with Vuyo? Why was he still out so late? A teacher?
Her thoughts began to race. Maybe there was traffic… or perhaps he had gone back to his old ways again.
Maybe he was trying to reach her, but his phone had died… maybe.
The door creaked open, and Vuyo hurried into the room. He dropped his suitcase on the bed and began loosening his tie.
Amahle sat up, glaring at him with visible anger.
Vuyo met her gaze, sensing that his wife was on the verge of exploding.
"What? Fine, I know I'm late," he said quickly. "I went out for an important meeting."
"And you never thought to tell me?" Amahle shot back. "Do you know how much you've hurt me, Vuyo? What kind of—"
She was cut off again.
"I'm hungry. I need food to be served," he said bluntly.
Without waiting for her response, he stood up and walked into the bathroom. Moments later, the door slammed shut.
Amahle sat there, stunned. She couldn't even finish what she wanted to say before the scene ended.
She knocked on the bathroom door softly.
"What?" Vuyo answered from inside the shower.
"Vuyo, it's been over a month now. Haven't the directors paid your salary yet?" she asked calmly, trying to remain patient despite her concern.
"Not yet… he said he wouldn't pay me for a while," Vuyo replied.
"Really? They've never owed me for a day when I taught there," she said, her brows knitting together in confusion. Vuyo fell silent again.
The truth was, he had already received his salary days earlier. Instead of using it wisely, he went on a spending spree with his friends. They visited a pub, watched a football match, placed bets, and even played casino games. By the time they were done drinking and having fun, a large portion of his salary was gone.
Now, left with barely half of what he earned, his friends began urging him to keep spending.Encouraged by his friends, Vuyo decided to try his luck. Filled with excitement, he placed another bet, even though he had no money left in his pocket. As expected, he lost again before the day came to an end.
He left the pub feeling defeated, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a convincing story to tell his wife.
"Vuyo, you're not talking," she said as she opened the bathroom door this time.
"Woman, I haven't been paid. Don't you get it?" Vuyo snapped, glancing at her and clicking his tongue in irritation.
"I mean, Bhisho is a government school, and the government never fails when it comes to paying salaries—"
She was cut off mid-sentence as Vuyo stormed out of the bathroom. Without another word, he pushed past her, shoved her aside, and walked into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.