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I sat at my desk, eyes glued to the screen as my best friend and I were finishing up the last few changes to my internal assessment. It had been a long process, and I was relieved it was finally wrapping up.
Mi did just know seh once we get a new teacher we affi duh ova back we IA.
On the Google Meet, her voice was steady as she guided me through some final formatting tweaks. "Yuh sure yuh have everything?" she asked, squinting at the screen.
"Yeah, I think so," I mumbled, scrolling through the document one more time. "Anything whe nuh deh deh get lef yah man.
"Well a you fi know ," she said with a grin, and I couldn't help but smile back.
Mi have subjects already so I don't have to go as hard.
And if yuh get three yuh bawl Yup....
As we wrapped up the call, a notification popped up on my phone. His name flashed on the screen, and my stomach did a little flip. It was him again, calling me.
I felt the familiar rush of emotions—the mix of excitement and anxiety that had been gnawing at me for days. But instead of answering, I hit the ignore button, just like I'd done with all his calls and messages for the past couple of days days.
My heart sank as I watched the screen go dark, my mind spinning with thoughts I couldn't quite pin down.
I did like him, I really did. He was sweet, charming, and every time we talked, I felt this spark that I hadn't felt in a long time. But that's what scared me the most. What if I wasn't enough?
Suh it did feel when mi just start talk to Zaire whole time his heart was somewhere else.
What if he got to know me better and realized I wasn't what he was looking for? It was easier to pull away than to face the possibility of getting hurt—or worse, disappointing him. My own thoughts had become a maze, and I couldn't seem to find the way out.
And look how the fada did like yuh.
Dat nuh mean nothing mi love a goodly same way suh him behave wid the every other girl.
Reall
Deciding I needed a distraction, I opened my messages on Instagram, hoping to find something that would take my mind off everything. Zoey had sent me a random Instagram post from earlier—a story she thought was funny.
I clicked on it, but my eyes widened as I realized it wasn't what I expected. It was a mirror selfie of some girl in a black dress, posing confidently with a familiar face standing behind her. Zandre was there, his face hiding in her neck as he wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning into the embrace. My heart clenched.
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