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Beyonce
Los Angeles (Her House)
September 29th, 9:30 AM
The clock on the wall ticked steadily towards 9:30 AM as I stood in the kitchen, my fingers wrapping around the teapot handle with a sense of purpose. I might not be much of a cook, but I could manage tea. It was a small comfort I could offer on a morning like this. The sun was just starting to break through the haze outside, casting a soft, golden light through the window.
Solange was coming over, and the thought brought a mixture of comfort and anxiety. We hadn't talked much about the pregnancy leak, and I knew she'd be fired up. Karrueche's slip wasn't just a careless mistake—it was a breach of something deeply personal. Solange's reaction was as inevitable as it was intense.
I was trying to keep my hands steady as I poured the steaming water over the tea bags, watching the dark liquid swirl and infuse. I could hear the faint hum of Solange's car approaching, and my heart skipped a beat. I'd hoped that a warm, simple gesture would help smooth the path for our conversation, but I had a feeling today would be anything but smooth.
The doorbell rang, and I took a deep breath before heading over to answer it. When I opened the door, Solange stood there, looking like a storm on the verge of breaking. Her expression was a fierce blend of concern and barely contained fury.
"Hey, Solange," I said, trying to keep my tone light despite the gravity of the situation.
She brushed past me without a word, her movements brisk and purposeful. I followed her into the living room, where she plopped down on the couch with an almost defiant sigh. I set the tray on the coffee table and took a seat across from her, my eyes meeting hers with a mix of apprehension and resolve.
"So," I started, attempting to break the ice with the calmness I didn't quite feel. "I'm sure you've heard by now. About the leak."
Solange's eyes narrowed, and she picked up her mug with a grip that suggested she was barely holding onto her temper. "Heard? Beyoncé, it's all over the place. Karrueche's got everyone talking, and not in a good way."
I watched as she took a sip of her tea, though it seemed like the liquid did little to cool her anger. She set the mug down with a bit more force than necessary, and her fingers tapped an impatient rhythm on her knee.
"You know," she continued, her voice low but edged with fury, "I can't believe she had the nerve to mess with you like this. Like, who does she think she is, spilling personal news like that? She's got no respect for boundaries."
