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12 june
Jade was a whirlwind of emotions as she entered her house, slamming the door behind her. Zayvior had done it again—promised a night to remember, only to back out at the last minute with some vague excuse. She felt a mixture of anger and disappointment swirling inside her. Every time he canceled, it chipped away at the trust and excitement she once felt.
She was tired of the rollercoaster, the constant ups and downs. Jade wanted stability, to feel like a priority instead of an afterthought. Her annoyance simmered just beneath the surface as she moved around her room, gathering her bath essentials. She felt drained, both emotionally and physically, from the constant letdowns.
Deciding a bath might soothe her frazzled nerves, she poured in fragrant oils and sprinkled petals across the water, hoping the ritual would bring some much-needed calm. As the bath filled, she lit a candle, watching the flame flicker and dance. It felt symbolic—her own feelings, dancing erratically, not quite steady.
She undressed slowly, the act almost therapeutic, and slid into the warm water. Immediately, she felt some of the tension release from her shoulders, but her mind continued to churn. She sighed deeply, a sound of both physical relief and emotional exhaustion.
In the bath, with the soft music playing, she tried to focus on the present moment. But thoughts of Zayvior kept creeping in. She loved him deeply, but how many more broken promises could she take? The frustration was not just with him but also with herself for allowing it to happen repeatedly. She wanted to believe in the dreams he sold her, but reality always seemed to fall short.
As she soaked, her emotions fluctuated—anger at his unreliability, sadness over the missed anniversary celebration, and a gnawing fear that this pattern would never change. She longed for a sense of security and reassurance, but all she felt was a growing uncertainty about their future. The bath was a temporary refuge, a place where she could let her guard down and feel her emotions fully, but she knew she couldn't stay in there forever. Sooner or later, she would have to confront these feelings and decide what she truly wanted.
Zayvior paced the grimy warehouse floor, his frustration palpable. The dim lighting cast harsh shadows on his face as he glared at his crew.
"Man, y'all gotta be playing with me," Zayvior snapped, his voice echoing off the concrete walls. "Didn't y'all find out where he's at yet?"
The crew exchanged uneasy glances, shaking their heads in unison. Tray, always the most vocal, stepped forward. "Every time we think we got a lead, this nigga just vanishes. Like, he's straight up disappearing."
Ace, leaning against a wall with arms crossed, added, "Why don't we just take out his whole crew? Every time we get one of 'em, another one pops up. Just wipe 'em all out."
