XXIII.

57 5 8
                                    


Beyonce

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

Beyonce

Los Angeles

May 22nd, 10:00 PM

As I step into the house, the familiar scent of home wraps around me—vanilla candles mixed with a hint of fresh laundry. The soft hum of music plays in the background, but it's low enough to feel intimate, like a secret between us.

"Chris?" I call out, my voice a mix of warmth and anxiety. I let the door close behind me, trying to shake off the heaviness that's been clinging to me since I left the studio.

He appears in the doorway, wearing a white wife beater and gray sweats that hang off his hips just right. There's something effortlessly charming about him, even in the most casual moments. His hair is tousled, and he's still got that effortless swagger, but I can see a hint of concern flash in his eyes as he takes me in.

"Hey, babe," he replies, that easy smile breaking through, but I can sense a shift in the air.

"Where's Blue?" I ask, trying to keep my tone light, but my heart feels heavy.

"She's sleeping," he says, his brow furrowing slightly. "She was fussy earlier, but I finally got her down."

"Good," I nod, but the knot in my stomach tightens. "That's good."

I feel the nervous energy radiating off me, and as he steps closer, his expression changes from relaxed to alert. "What's wrong?" he asks, concern lacing his voice.

I can't meet his eyes. The weight of my earlier choices settles over me like a dark cloud. "Nothing, just... long night in the studio, you know?"

He tilts his head, studying me. "Bey, I know when something's up. Talk to me."

My breath catches. How do I explain the mix of adrenaline and guilt swirling inside me? I take a deep breath, willing myself to be honest, but the truth feels too heavy to say out loud.

As I stand there, the weight of the moment crashes down on me. The truth is too heavy to carry, and I finally choke out, "I'm sorry." My voice quivers, barely a whisper, but I know he hears me.

Chris's expression shifts to confusion, his brows furrowing. "Sorry? For what?"

"Jay," I say, feeling the gravity of the name. It hangs in the air like a dark cloud, heavy and suffocating.

His face falls, realization dawning in his eyes. "What do you mean? What happened with Jay?"

Anger flickers in his gaze, and I can feel my heart racing. "I didn't mean for it to happen. It was just... a moment in the studio."

Pray You Catch MeWhere stories live. Discover now