THE MEMORY BENEATH LIES

Chapter 9: The Memory Beneath the Lies

Naledi couldn’t stop staring at the photograph.

It lay on the dining table beside the hospital documents, its edges worn from years of being handled. Two young women stood outside a hospital entrance. One was Zinhle. The other was her.

But it was the handwritten message on the back that troubled her most.

Don’t believe everything he tells you.

She had read those words so many times that afternoon that they had begun to feel like a warning from another lifetime.

Who had Zinhle been trying to protect her from?

Thabo?

Or someone else?

She glanced towards the staircase. Her husband had gone upstairs almost an hour earlier, claiming he needed to make an important phone call. He hadn’t explained who he was calling, and Naledi hadn’t asked.

She was tired of asking questions and receiving carefully prepared lies.

Instead, she returned to the storage box she had taken from beneath the staircase. It contained old photographs, letters and personal belongings from the years before Zinhle disappeared.

At the bottom, beneath a collection of birthday cards, she found a small black USB drive.

There was no label.

She turned it over in her fingers, wondering why she had kept it.

Then she noticed a folded piece of paper tucked beneath it.

Her handwriting.

If I ever forget, listen to this.

Naledi felt a chill move down her spine.

She immediately fetched her laptop and inserted the USB drive.

There was only one audio file.

The date displayed on the screen was seven years old.

She pressed play.

For several seconds, there was nothing but silence. Then a familiar voice broke through the recording.

Her own voice.

“Zinhle, I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Naledi leaned closer.

“I spoke to him. He knows about the money. He knows about the hospital, and he knows what happened that night.”

A second voice answered.

Zinhle.

“Then we have to leave, Naledi. Both of us. Before he finds out that I still have the original documents.”

Naledi stopped breathing.

What documents?

The recording continued.

“I can’t just leave him. You don’t understand. He threatened me.”

Zinhle sounded frightened.

“He’s not the man you think he is.”

There was a sudden noise in the background, followed by the sound of a door opening.

Then a man’s voice spoke.

“Give me the phone, Naledi.”

The recording ended.

Naledi sat completely still.

She knew that voice.

She had heard it every morning for years. It was the voice that wished her goodnight, kissed her forehead and promised her that everything would be fine.

Thabo.

Her husband had been there that night.

But why had she sounded so frightened of him?

Before she could replay the recording, her phone vibrated.

An unknown number.

You shouldn’t have listened to that recording.

Naledi stared at the message.

Another one arrived almost immediately.

Some memories are buried for a reason.

Her fingers went cold.

Someone knew about the USB drive.

Someone knew she had been listening.

She quickly closed the laptop.

“Naledi?”

She almost dropped her phone.

Thabo stood at the kitchen entrance, wearing his dressing gown. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes moved towards the laptop.

Then they settled on the USB drive.

For a moment, he said nothing.

“Where did you find that?” he finally asked.

Naledi looked directly at him.

“Who was the man in the recording?”

Thabo’s expression changed.

“What recording?”

“Don’t do that. I heard your voice.”

He slowly walked into the kitchen.

“Naledi, I think you should go upstairs.”

She let out a bitter laugh.

“Seven years, Thabo. Seven years I’ve believed my sister was dead. Seven years you’ve watched me grieve. And now I find out you were with her that night.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“Then explain it!”

He rubbed his forehead and looked away.

For the first time since she had known him, Naledi saw something in his face that she couldn’t recognise.

Fear.

“You don’t remember everything that happened that night,” he said quietly.

“Then tell me what happened.”

He hesitated.

“You called me.”

Naledi frowned.

“What?”

“You called me that night. You were crying. You asked me to come to the hospital.”

She shook her head.

“That’s impossible.”

“I arrived and found you standing outside the building. You were covered in blood.”

Naledi took a step backwards.

“No.”

“You were holding something in your hand.”

“What?”

Thabo looked directly into her eyes.

“A knife.”

The room seemed to tilt.

Naledi gripped the edge of the table.

“You’re lying.”

“I wish I were.”

She searched his face, desperate to find something that would expose the lie.

But he looked almost convinced by his own words.

“Where was Zinhle?” she whispered.

Thabo didn’t answer.

“Where was my sister?”

He lowered his voice.

“She was already gone.”

Naledi felt tears gathering in her eyes.

“Dead?”

He looked away.

“I didn’t say that.”

Before she could question him further, his phone rang.

He glanced at the screen and immediately rejected the call.

But Naledi had already seen the name.

Maseko.

Detective Maseko.

Thabo slipped the phone into his pocket.

“Go to bed, Naledi.”

She stared at him.

“Why is Detective Maseko calling you?”

He said nothing.

Then, without another word, he walked out of the kitchen.

Naledi remained where she was, listening to his footsteps disappear upstairs.

A few minutes later, she picked up her phone and opened the messages from the unknown number.

She typed a reply.

Who are you?

The response came almost instantly.

Someone who knows what really happened to Zinhle.

Naledi’s heart began racing.

A final message appeared.

And someone who knows you were not the only person who held that knife.

She read it again.

And again.

Then her phone rang.

Unknown number.

This time, she answered.

“Hello?”

For several seconds, there was silence.

Then a woman’s voice spoke.

“Hello, Naledi.”

Naledi’s eyes widened.

She knew that voice.

She would have recognised it anywhere.

It was the voice she had spent seven years wishing she could hear again.

“Naledi, listen carefully. You cannot trust your husband.”

A tear rolled down her cheek.

“Zinhle?”

The woman on the other end took a shaky breath.

“There’s something you need to know.”

Naledi pressed the phone against her ear.

“What?”

“Thabo didn’t save you that night.”

A pause.

“He helped them take me away.”

The call disconnected.

Naledi stood frozen, unable to move.

Then, slowly, she looked towards the staircase.

Thabo was no longer upstairs.

And from somewhere inside the house, she heard the unmistakable sound of the front door closing.