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Friday, 7 April 2017

Episode 10- Broken Promises( Episode Love Story)

The story titled "BROKEN PROMISES" is a true life story written by Ros Haden.
The greater part of the significant characters will be
included with their own side of the story to make it all the more intriguing to take in a considerable measure from the story. I urge you to always put down your comments to impress Aynaijablog CEO for more updates.

Episode 10
Mzi was waiting, as he said he would be, outside the sports shed. But today, instead of being part of a group of boys, he was alone. When Ntombi came closer she saw him stub out a cigarette he had been smoking, and put something he had in his pocket in his mouth. Two thoughts raced through Ntombi’s mind. First: he shouldn’t be smoking. And then, that he looked like a film star – so casual and cool.
“Bad habit, I know,” he laughed as she walked up beside him. “I’m trying to give up. I’ve cut down to five a day – from twenty,” he added. “Want one?” He offered her a Dentyne.
“Thanks. Listen I haven’t got much time – I’ve got to go and see Selwyn about the magazine. They want me to write a story about this singing competition I’m in.” She stopped. She was being so uncool, telling him all this stuff. Talking non-stop like an excited child.
“This won’t take long,” he said touching her arm. “I wanted to ask you…” He suddenly became shy, looking down at his shoes. “I’ve been wanting to ask you if you’d like to go with me to the party at Thabiso’s this weekend.”
Ntombi bit her lip. She had promised her friends that they would go as a group. But when she had promised there was no Mzi in her life. “I…”
“Think about it,” Mzi said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
* * *
That afternoon when Ntombi got home she felt like she was floating on air. Surely Mzi wasn’t the boy everyone said he was? People could be mean, and jealous. He smoked – that was bad. But he was trying to give it up – that was good. He had helped her pick up her books – that was kind. No, she decided that she would make up her own mind about him. Suddenly it didn’t matter so much that her mother wasn’t there, or that the TV still wasn’t fixed. Nothing seemed so bad anymore. Suddenly the world looked rosier, because Mzi wanted to take her, not some glamorous babe, but her, shy Ntombi, who had never had a proper boyfriend, to the party. “What a difference a day makes…” she sang, as she started to tidy the house.
“What’s up with you?” asked Zinzi.
“I’m just happy. Am I not allowed to be happy?”
“What’s there to be happy about?” complained Zinzi. “I don’t see anything’s changed, do you? Mama’s out. There’s no TV, no food and I’m hungry.”
“I’ll go to the spaza shop,” said Ntombi. “I’ll cook something really nice.” She went to look in the tin where her mother usually left cash for them, in case of emergencies. It was empty. Reluctantly she took money she had saved up from her purse. She had intended to use it to have her hair braided for the party. But they had to eat.
* * *
At the spaza shop she bought rice, oil, a tin of pilchards, and some onions. Ntombi counted out her money; she was three rand short.
“I’ll have to leave the onions,” she said.
“Hi, Ntombi.” She heard a voice behind her and turned to see Olwethu. He must have come up really quietly because she didn’t hear him. Ntombi knew him from school; they’d been in choir together for a year. He was a bit older than her, and she had admired him: he was quiet, but when he did talk, what he said was always interesting, or funny. He was tall and thin, not hunky like Mzi, but not bad looking either. When he stopped coming to choir, Asanda had told her that he had to drop out of school for a term, because his father had died of AIDS and his mother had died in a taxi accident on the way back from his funeral, leaving him with a brother and sister to care for. How much tragedy could one family take, thought Ntombi, looking at Olwethu now. He was smiling at her.
“Hey, I’ll give you some onions. I’ve got a bag at home.” His voice was low and kind.
“Don’t worry,” Ntombi said, feeling shy.
“Really, it’s not a problem,” Olwethu assured her, “I live just around the corner now.”
“Are you sure?” Ntombi asked. “It’s just my mother’s out and I have to cook for my little sister.”
“I know what that’s like,” Olwethu said. “Little sisters can be difficult.” They laughed.
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