Yakabatanidzwa ruzha

In the days that followed, life felt like it was in fast-forward. I was managing hospital visits, coordinating care, and keeping my sister grounded while she struggled to process everything. I noticed things I had never seen before: my dad’s stubbornness, his pride, and the way it had shaped both of us. I realized that the anger I had carried for so long was not just about him—it was about survival, learning to navigate a home where love was conditional, where achievement was ignored, and where