Cikizwa stood at the edge of the rural village, her gaze stretching toward the horizon where the sun dipped low, casting long shadows over the fields. The village she’d grown up in was quiet, but it was never still. Life here was slow, predictable, but she was restless. Restless for something more, something beyond the familiar dirt roads and simple homes.
She had always felt like an outsider in her own world — not because of who she was, but because of what she yearned for. The other girls in the village were content with the simplicity of their lives, the comfort of family, tradition, and love. But for Cikizwa, that wasn’t enough. She wanted more. She wanted the city’s lights, the sound of ambition in the air, and a life that meant something beyond survival.
The dream was clear in her mind: to move to the city, to find success, to be someone. It wasn’t just the luxury she desired, but the recognition, the freedom to be someone new, someone important.
But the price of her dreams was a quiet burden, a weight she hadn’t yet fully understood.
Her relationships, the friendships she’d built over the years, felt different now. As the years had passed, she found herself surrounded by people who couldn’t understand her desires. The friends who were once her sisters in spirit, who shared in her laughter and late-night talks, now seemed small, trapped in the same place she’d been born into.
And then there were the partners she chose. Men who were as lost as she was, chasing fleeting desires and empty promises. Each relationship left a mark, a reminder of how far she was from the life she craved.
One night, after yet another argument with a man who didn’t know how to love, Cikizwa stood in front of the mirror, the reflection staring back at her like a stranger. Who was she becoming? The girl who dreamed of a better life or the woman who lost herself in the pursuit of it?
That night, something shifted inside her. The promise of something more became clearer — and the cost of that promise became a lot more real.
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