Chapter 2

One Week Later – The Madelyn Homestead

Old man Madelyn sat beneath his favorite tree, a grand, sprawling oak that cast a wide, cool shadow across the earth. The sun was hot, but here, the breeze moved gently and the leaves danced with whispers. He had just finished reading a letter that had been hand-delivered to him.

A smile crept onto his weathered face as he rubbed his large, round belly.

“You’ve done well, Madelyn,” he chuckled proudly to himself.

Madelyn (calling out):

“Matilda! Amala!”

His deep voice thundered through the homestead, and both daughters came running, startled. They feared their father — he never smiled, never laughed — so hearing his voice filled with excitement was unusual and unsettling.

Madelyn:

“I’m overjoyed, my daughters! Today, I am finally honored as a true man in this village. You’ve made me proud beyond measure!”

The girls glanced at one another, puzzled, and then at the folded letter in their father's hand.

Madelyn (with a grin):

“So, which one of you is the eldest again?”

Matilda (quietly):

“It’s me, Father.”

She looked down at the ground, nervous.

Madelyn:

“Good. My daughter Mafungwashe… I bring you great news. One of you is to be married very soon. And Matilda, that one is you.”

The sisters exchanged wide-eyed glances.

Amala (frowning):

“I thought I was the one getting married, Father. Reign proposed to me.”

Madelyn:

“Quiet, child. You’re still young. You cannot get married before your older sister. That’s tradition.”

Matilda (softly but firmly):

“But Father, I don’t want to get married.”

Madelyn:

“You will do as I say. This decision is final. The message has been delivered. There’s nothing more to discuss.”

He stood, brushing dust off his trousers.

Madelyn:

“And another thing — Amala, help your sister prepare the house. Reign’s family will be visiting in the morning. Hand me your iPhones before they arrive.”

With that, he left them standing there in stunned silence. Amala fought back tears as she handed over her phone and walked back inside.

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Amala’s Point of View

I sat on the bed, my body trembling as tears streamed down my face. I couldn’t believe this. My father — cruel as he was — had crossed a line I never imagined. I always knew he could be heartless, but this?

“How could he give my fiancé to my sister?”

Matilda (softly, rubbing my back):

“I’m sorry…”

Me:

“How could he do this, Matilda? How?”

Me (crying harder):

“You’re really going to marry him?”

Matilda stayed silent, tears brimming in her eyes.

Matilda:

“I don’t want this either, Amala… I don’t.”

Me (on my knees, grabbing her hands):

“Please don’t marry him. I’m begging you.”