Chapter 10 - Naledi

"She has your eyes."

I looked down at the baby in my arms — Naledi Ndlovu, three weeks old, with Themba's dark hair and my nose and the most perfect tiny fingers I'd ever seen.

"She has your stubbornness," I countered, smiling at my husband.

Themba laughed, leaning over to kiss my forehead. "That's all you, love."

We were in the nursery of our new house — a beautiful double-storey on an estate in Bryanston, with a music room for me and a home office for Themba and plenty of space for our growing family.

I'd never been happier.

My solo career was thriving. I'd just finished recording a concerto with the London Symphony Orchestra. I was teaching master classes at Wits. I was making music on my own terms, for myself, without compromise.

And I was loved. Deeply, completely, by a man who showed up for me every single day. Who supported my dreams without asking me to sacrifice them. Who looked at me like I was the most important person in his world.

"I love you," I said softly.

"I love you too," Themba replied. "Both of you."

Naledi made a small sound, and we both laughed.

This was what happiness looked like. Not the spotlight or the fame or the validation from strangers.

This. Family. Love. Partnership. Building a life with someone who actually valued you.

I'd lost everything when my marriage ended. But I'd gained so much more.