Chapter 22

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Imani's P.O.V

Taking one last look at myself in the mirror, I run my hands down my outfit, which consisted of a white "For the Culture" T-shirt dress, red cardigan, black velvet thigh-high boots and a matching black velvet bag.(Outfit)

It's been 3 months and a week since that night and I still hadn't heard a word from Sebastiano, Nazaire or their men, I assumed they were busy living their best lives, so I decided I would do the same, I was tired of wallowing in sadness and grief...

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It's been 3 months and a week since that night and I still hadn't heard a word from Sebastiano, Nazaire or their men, I assumed they were busy living their best lives, so I decided I would do the same, I was tired of wallowing in sadness and grief, it made me sick, literally. I found myself vomiting and nauseous the first month and a half that they left and I simply taught I caught a nasty virus.

I realized I had changed quite a bit over the months, I personally think in a good way, physically and mentally, I had started eating healthier and working out, I had signed up for some fight and gun shooting classes. My body was more toned and my hair had grown out some more. I feel like I have a better control of my emotions now, I realized there's only one person I could trust and depend on in this world and that's me, myself and I. (Period)

Izaiah had come back a month ago, trying to reconcile with me, saying he was never going to hurt me in the first place and that he loved me but I couldn't bring myself to forgive him, I trusted him and he broke that trust. He came back everyday with small presents and apology letters. This left me conflicted, should I forgive and let him back into my life?

I've been thinking about it for a while and I decided that if I was going to start over again, that would require me moving, finding a new place to live, this house was no longer my home, it was tainted with more bad memories than good. So I've been apartment searching and today I would be going to take a look at them with a friend of mine.

His name was Braiden, but I called him B. He was fine-ass dark skin I met two months ago, I'm telling you, pierced ears, tattoos, sculpted muscles, beard and all that fine shit. If I wasn't so in love with two other sexy men, I sure as hell wouldn't mind having him go down on me a couple of times. (Pic)

 (Pic)

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