𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐬 but recently tragedy has struck the lives of both Demetrius and Aaliyah, now the pair are doing all they can to pick up the pieces. Will they stay strong in their union or will the...
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I was smiling from ear to ear all week; the feeling was like no other. Demetrius and I were finally in a state of calmness and stability; it was all I had wished for our relationship to be since the beginning. Last night, we sat on the porch and reminisced about simpler moments in our lives.
Last night we also vowed to each other that we'd try our best to live more in the present, stopping comparing ourselves to what we could have before, what we could have done.
Unfortunately, those moments will never happen; we have to live in our present and concentrate on the future life we are seeking to build, not only for ourselves but for our daughter.
Demetrius was upstairs with Deja while I chilled downstairs watching Love and Hip-hop Atlanta. The whole LLHP franchise was a mess, and it surprised me how they were airing after all these years of continuous mess and shame it brought to the black community. But hey, it did make good T.V. in the end.
Demetrius's phone sat on the glass table in front of me; it binged one time, then another, then another time again.
Curiosity arose within me; no one usually texted him back to back-like that.
I flip his phone over, looking at who was texting him. It didn't shock me too much that it was the "boys group chat" with him, Shooter and Bashar...nothing new.
Occasionally, I would go through Metri's phone, and he did the same with mine. We both had photos of each other on our phones, he usually had bomb pictures of me that I didn't even know were taken.
I momentarily find myself looking at the message the boys had sent, nothing interesting, just basketball highlights they send to each other with commentary on the players. When I got out of there, I noticed that all his messages were saved with the names of the people: Alexis, Mom, Shooter. Then I saw an unsaved number with the words attachment image. Once I clicked it, my heart went straight to my ass, damn near fell out.
Upon clicking the thread, I was greeted with the image of a woman's body.
She was a curvaceous, light-skinned woman with long bundles in her hair; she posed in some lingerie with her butt facing the camera. I was so focused on her body along with what she was wearing that I didn't even take a good look at the woman.
I felt sick, the temperature in my body felt like it was below zero degrees, I was frozen in place. Whatever was happening on the television faded in the background. The woman was...
Solange Demetrius's ex-physical therapist, the dots clicked in my head quicker than I could even move a muscle. It made sense now why Demetrius didn't want Solange as his P.T. anymore, he was probably scared shitless about her perhaps telling me what they were doing.
My hands were trembling, something told me to scroll upwards and get to the bottom of this so-called "relationship" that they had going on. Messages like "How was your day today" came from her. He didn't go to in-depth about things with her, he came off to have kept it pretty brief. She would ask questions like are you home by yourself and he would answer yes. Without any further explanation.
