CHAPTER 55

QONDISIWE "MANKOMOSE" CELE.

The truth is simple: I should have prepared better. Not the bandages. Not the wine—although it helped calm the shaking in my hands. Not even the speech I rehearsed in the mirror until my voice cracked. No. I should've prepared my heart. Because nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared me for the moment my husband walked into our yard after a month away… looking like someone I no longer own.

The morning sun is warm on my skin, too warm. It makes the wine in my hand feel heavier, makes the fake bandage itch under the sweat forming on my forehead. I'm already irritated before I see the car. Before I hear the engine. Before my chest tightens so hard I think the wine glass might slip from my fingers. Then… he steps out.