Onika, a single mother, is desperate to find a cure for her daughter's mysterious illness. Just as hope fades, she meets Dr. Beyoncé Knowles, a determined doctor who refuses to give up.
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Beyonce Knowles Los Angeles, CA
Nicki sat on the edge of the bed, hands on her lap, trying to calm herself down. The silence between us was suffocating. I could feel the weight of everything hanging in the air.
"Baby, let me explain to you..." I started, my voice shaky.
She chuckled bitterly, shaking her head.
"I know what you're thinking, but it's not that," I added quickly.
"So tell me," she said, her tone disturbingly calm.
It scared me. Nicki's anger was always fierce, but this kind of calm? It was dangerous.
I took a deep breath. "She was drunk, and I helped her into the room. That's it. That's all that happened."
"Right," she muttered, slowly standing up.
Before I even had a chance to react, she punched me right in the chest. Hard. I gasped, grabbing my chest. Her hits always packed a punch.
"Before you left, I told you about that weird bitch. I said how she was feeling on you, but you didn't give a fuck!" She laughed, but there was nothing funny about it.
"I'm sorry, I—"
"Shut up. Just shut the fuck up, Beyoncé."
"We didn't do anything at all. I literally helped her to her room," I said, trying to defend myself.
She yelled, "You shouldn't have done that! What the fuck are you not understanding? Do you not get how it looks? You coming out of another woman's room—a bitch who's been feeling up on you?"
"I know how it looks, but I'm telling you the truth," I insisted, but the words felt hollow.
Nicki laughed again, a cold sound that sent a shiver down my spine.
"I asked you before you left if you fucked her. You didn't answer, and now..." She trailed off, her laughter fading as she stared at me.
I rubbed my chest, still feeling the sting of her punch. "I didn't fuck her."
"Have you before?" she asked, her voice low but full of accusation. "Because she's way too comfortable touching you, and you let her."
I bit my lip, nervous. My silence said everything.
"Did y'all fuck before?" she demanded, her voice rising.
"Yes, but Nicki, that was high school," I admitted, knowing that it didn't matter at this point.
She pointed at me, her face twisted in anger. "You're a fucked-up person."
"I'm fucked up?" I shot back, frustration creeping into my voice. "I didn't do shit with her tonight!"
