WebNovels

I HAVE LIVED, LOVED & LAUGHED

Lebohang_Tsiu
14
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 14 chs / week.
--
NOT RATINGS
172
Views
Synopsis
At 26, a young man looks back on a life that tried to break him but instead forged him. Raised in a destitute home, where survival came before dreams, he discovered early that his mind was his escape. From primary school through high school, he was a quiet genius, impressing teachers while hiding hunger, fear, and longing behind borrowed smiles. A sponsored bursary carried him to the University of Cape Town, a world far removed from where he came from. But brilliance alone was not enough. Pressure, identity loss, and poverty followed him there. Slowly, the boy who once led classrooms began failing exams and doubting himself. Eventually, he walked away from university, carrying shame heavier than his suitcase. Only one person never walked away from him; Thando, his lover, anchor, and believer. While the world measured success in degrees, she measured it in courage. Through rejection, empty pockets, and broken confidence, she stayed. Choosing writing over despair, he turned pain into pages. What began as survival became purpose. Through many setbacks, he rose into one of the country’s best-selling authors, proving that sometimes the story you fail to live becomes the story you were born to tell.
VIEW MORE

Chapter 1 - Chapter 1

At the age of twenty-six, Thabo Maseko had already accumulated more memories than most men twice his age. His life was not measured in years but in experiences; in the silent wars he fought, the victories nobody applauded, and the scars that shaped his becoming. While others his age still chased identity, Thabo carried his past like a seasoned traveler carries maps: worn, detailed, and impossible to ignore.

He was born into scarcity.

The house that cradled his childhood stood in a forgotten corner of the township, its corrugated iron roof singing mournful songs whenever rain arrived. Inside, space was limited and certainty nonexistent. Hunger often shared the room with them, and electricity was treated as a privilege rather than a right. Yet within that frail structure lived a boy whose mind stretched far beyond its boundaries.

Thabo learned early that poverty was loud, but intelligence could be louder.

School became his refuge from domestic chaos. While other children sought distraction, Thabo pursued understanding. Numbers fascinated him with their logic, and language embraced him with its promise of escape. Teachers watched in disbelief as brilliance bloomed where struggle was expected. His notebooks were immaculate, his questions relentless, and his hunger for knowledge far greater than the hunger in his stomach.

Yet excellence did not shield him from reality.

After the final bell rang, Thabo returned to dimly lit rooms and uncertain meals. His school shoes grew thin before his ambition ever did. Still, hope followed him like a persistent shadow. Somewhere inside, a quiet conviction whispered that he was not meant to remain where he began.

High school refined what childhood discovered. Thabo became a symbol of possibility; the destitute boy who ranked first, the quiet thinker who outperformed privilege. Assemblies often echoed with his name, and scholarship committees began circling like distant stars aligning for a purpose he barely understood.

Then came the letter.

The envelope bore the emblem of the University of Cape Town, its authority undeniable. With trembling hands, Thabo unfolded the pages that would fracture his world into before and after. A full bursary. Acceptance. Opportunity disguised as destiny.

Cape Town did not resemble home. It smelled of ambition, spoke fluent confidence, and moved with the certainty of people who had never doubted belonging. Thabo arrived with a single suitcase and a mind cluttered with expectation. The mountain stood tall, observing him like a silent judge as he stepped into lecture halls that hummed with competition.

At first, he tried to outrun fear with discipline.

But genius does not thrive on pressure alone.

Loneliness crept into his nights. Lectures became overwhelming orchestras of information. He began measuring himself against others whose lives had prepared them better for the battlefield of academia. Slowly, imperceptibly, the boy who once dominated classrooms began to hesitate.

Assignments went unfinished. Confidence evaporated. Failure introduced itself with cruel politeness.

Thabo discovered that success was not only about intelligence; it was about stability, identity, and belief. And when those foundations crack, even brilliance trembles.

By the time winter wrapped Cape Town in grey uncertainty, Thabo was already unraveling.

He walked across campus each day with dignity stitched over despair, carrying books heavier than his heart. Shame followed him like an unwanted companion. Eventually, the inevitable confronted him; he was no longer winning.

Leaving the university was not dramatic.

It was quiet.

One morning, Thabo closed his suitcase with shaking resolve and acknowledged what pride refused to admit: he was drowning. Walking away felt like betrayal :to his teachers, his family, his former self. Yet staying felt like extinction.

So he chose survival.

What Thabo did not yet realize was that defeat was not the end of his narrative, it was merely the punctuation before reinvention.

Somewhere ahead waited words, love, resilience, and a woman named Thando who would remind him who he truly was.

And so, without applause, Thabo stepped into the unknown, unaware that his greatest chapters had not yet been written.