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Where Rainbows Hide

Where Rainbows Hide

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5 Chapters
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Where Rainbows Hide is about the survival, two women risk everything to follow their hearts. Nomvula, a quiet schoolteacher hiding her truth, meets Lerato, a fearless photographer unafraid to live hers. As their secret romance grows, so do the risks-from family rejection to public shame. Set in South Africa, Where Rainbows Hide is a story of forbidden love, quiet strength, and the courage to be seen.

Chapter 1 Silence as a sound

The kettle whistled sharply, a scream in the stillness of Nomvula's small flat. She didn't move. She stared blankly at the rust-streaked sink, the chipped enamel reminding her that everything ages-love, people, and even the places meant to feel like home.

Rain tapped lightly on the zinc roof overhead, like careful footsteps of someone trying not to be noticed. It was a sound she had grown up with in KwaMashu, and one that now followed her into this modest space she rented on the outskirts of Pietermaritzburg. Somehow, it made her feel watched, like the rain saw through her. Like it knew.

She finally moved, more out of habit than purpose, pouring the hot water into her chipped mug. She stirred in the instant coffee, black and bitter-just how she drank it every morning, even though she didn't like it. It was one of those rituals that made her feel in control. She didn't have many.

The walls of the flat were a pale peach, faded like memories she didn't speak of. There were no photos hung up, no signs that someone lived here, really. Just a stack of papers from her grade 7 class, a dusty bookshelf filled with curriculum guides, and one old radio that only played isiZulu gospel stations because she was too afraid to retune it.

Nomvula sat on the edge of her couch, knees pressed together, fingers wrapped tightly around the mug. Her mother had called the night before, the same way she always did-asking if she was still going to church, if she'd met a nice man, if she was keeping herself pure. That word made Nomvula's skin itch.

"I am fine, Ma," she had said. "Still working, still teaching. Still me."

But what did that mean-still me? Did her mother know who she was anymore? Did she?

There were moments when Nomvula thought she could live with the silence inside her. That she could bury this part of herself, deep, like bones no one would ever find. But then... there were the other moments. Ones that slipped through cracks in her control, usually in dreams where fingers touched skin and eyes met in a way that said, I see you. All of you.

She hadn't let herself feel anything for anyone since varsity. And even then, it had been a whisper, a glance held too long, a hand brushing another during a study group. She remembered the shame, the panic. The prayer circles her church group held for her when she "confessed" to having "feelings that weren't from God."

She tried not to think about Thando. It was too long ago. Too complicated. And honestly, she wasn't sure she could survive that kind of unraveling again.

But lately, something had shifted. Maybe it was the loneliness, thickening like smoke. Maybe it was the dreams returning. Or maybe-just maybe-she was tired of pretending she was someone else.

There was a knock on the door. Sharp. Two beats. Then silence.

She frowned. No one ever visited without calling first. Not even her neighbor, Mrs. Sibanda, who usually announced herself loudly through the wall with her gospel records and gossip about who in the complex had a man sleeping over.

Nomvula stood, cautious, setting her mug on the table. She peeked through the curtain. A woman stood there, wearing a camera slung across her chest like a soldier's weapon, and a leather jacket too bold for this side of town. She looked out of place-like someone who didn't care to fit in. Her afro puffed proudly in the misty air. Their eyes met through the crack in the curtain. The woman smiled, crookedly.

Nomvula's breath caught, heart hiccuping in her chest.

She didn't know it yet, but this was the moment everything would change.

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