Chapter 2 The Shadows of Doubt

Zola sat at the dinner table, her fingers tapping nervously against her fork. The smell of her mom's famous chicken curry filled the air, but instead of making her hungry, it just made her brain spin.

What if the chicken's undercooked?

What if someone chokes?

What if.....

"Zola," her mom's voice cut through her thoughts. Thandi Mali was a soft-spoken woman who wore floral dresses even on lazy Sundays and had a way of making everything feel safe.....except when Zola's overthinking was in overdrive. "Baby, the food is fine. You've watched me cook it. Breathe."

Zola forced herself to nod, but her eyes darted to the chicken again.

Across the table, her dad, Mandla, smirked. He was a big man with salt-and-pepper hair and a beard that made him look serious,...until he opened his mouth and ruined it with a joke. "Relax, my daughter. If we die from your mom's cooking, at least we'll die happy."

Thandi shot him a look. "Mandla."

"What?" He grinned, tearing off a piece of bread. "I'm just saying. If this chicken kills us, it'll be the tastiest poison ever."

Zola almost smiled. Almost. But then her brain kicked in again. "But what if..."

Mandla held up a hand. "Ah-ah. No more what ifs. Eat. Or I'll start telling my 'back in my day' stories, and then you'll really suffer."

Zola groaned. Her dad's "back in my day" stories were legendary; mostly because they were 70% made up and 30% embarrassing. Last time, he claimed he used to walk to school uphill both ways in the snow...which, considering they lived in Durban, was physically impossible.

She took a small bite of chicken. It was perfect, like always.

But the relief didn't last.

Later, after dinner, Zola sat on the couch, her knees pulled to her chest. Her parents were talking softly in the kitchen, and even though she couldn't hear them, she knew they were talking about her. About how she ruined dinner. Again.

Her chest tightened.

Why couldn't she just be normal? Why did her brain have to turn every little thing into a disaster waiting to happen?

She grabbed her diary and escaped to her room.

Diary Entry: January 21st (Evening)

Dear Diary,

Tonight was... rough.

Dinner started fine, but then my brain decided to do its usual "let's imagine every worst-case scenario"routine. I worried about the food, about choking, about....I don't even know. Everything. Mom tried to calm me down. Dad cracked jokes (bad ones, but still). But I could tell they were tired. Tired of me.

I hate this. I hate how my mind does this. It's like there's a little voice in my head that won't shut up, whispering all the things that could go wrong. And no matter how many times I tell it to stop, it just gets louder.

I know Mom and Dad don't get it. How could they? Mom's the most together person I know. She handles everything without freaking out. And Dad? He works all week in Joburg, comes home on Fridays exhausted, and still manages to make us laugh.

I wish I could be more like them.

Dad tries so hard. He's gone Monday to Friday, but on weekends, he really tries to make up for it...board games, trips to the park, even letting Nathi drag him into those ridiculous backyard soccer matches where Nathi cheats and Dad pretends not to notice. He never complains. Not once.

And Mom? She's everything. She holds this family together. She works, cooks, cleans, listens to my endless worries, and still finds time to watch those terrible rom-coms she loves. I don't know how she does it.

Meanwhile, I'm over here losing my mind because what if the chicken was undercooked.

Ugh.

I don't want to be like this. I don't want to make everything harder for them. But I don't know how to stop.

I will just pray about it, there is nothing above God they say. I am going to exercise my faith from now onwards. This has to stop.

Yours always,

Zola

(P.S. Dad just knocked on my door and asked if I wanted ice cream. He's the best. Even if his jokes are terrible.)

Later That Night

Zola sat on her bed, eating the ice cream her dad had brought her (vanilla with sprinkles, because he remembered it was her favorite). Down the hall, she could hear Nathi begging their parents to let him stay up "just ten more minutes."

She smiled a little.

Maybe things weren't perfect. Maybe her brain was a mess sometimes. But at least she had this.

At least she had them.

And that was enough.