Seventy-two

Qhawelezizwe's POV
After making sure my mother was okay, I dragged my feet upstairs to check on Sibane. My chest felt tight—like I was caught in a brutal game of tug of war. Two women pulling at my heart from opposite ends. And I was stuck in the middle, helpless. I had no idea what the hell to do anymore—especially now, with the crushing news that my mother is dying. This is just... fucked up.

"Sibane?" I called, pushing open the door. She was in the closet, folding clothes like her world wasn't unraveling too. Like she hadn't just been gutted.

"Sibane, listen," I started, my voice already strained. "I can't just throw her out like she means nothing to me. She's my mother. And she's dying."

She nodded once, not even glancing in my direction. That stung more than I expected.