Chapter 5 - The Mic

The show was electric.

I played like I was possessed, pouring every ounce of rage and heartbreak into my violin. The crowd was on their feet, screaming, the energy in the Dome absolutely insane.

Kagiso kept looking back at me between songs, trying to catch my eye, but I ignored him. I was done with his bullshit. Done with his lies.

We finished the set with "Shattered Crown," the song that had made him famous. My solo brought the house down. I could see people crying in the front row, their phones up, recording every moment.

Perfect.

As the final notes faded, Kagiso stepped up to the mic. "Thank you, Joburg! You've been incredible! We love you!"

The crowd roared.

I walked to the front of the stage, my violin still in hand. Kagiso looked at me, confused.

I took the mic from him.

"Before we go," I said, my voice steady and clear, "I have something I need to share with all of you."

Kagiso's face went white. "Amahle, what are you—"

"Six months ago," I continued, "my husband started sleeping with the vocalist who opens his shows. Palesa Radebe. Maybe some of you know her. She's very talented. Especially with her mouth."

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Phones came out everywhere. The live stream chat exploded.

"Amahle, stop—" Kagiso reached for the mic, but I stepped back.