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Chris
Los Angeles
June 3rd, 11:30 AM
I lean against the kitchen counter, a cup of coffee warming my hands. The sunlight filters through the window, casting a golden glow that dances across the walls. It's quiet, save for the soft cooing of Blue Ivy in her crib. She's grown so much in these past few months, her little personality starting to shine through. I can't help but smile every time I see her. She's a blessing, pure and simple.
Beyoncé walks in, and for a moment, the world shrinks to just the two of us. I catch her eye, and there's an unspoken acknowledgment—of the past, of what happened. A few weeks have passed since she told me about Jay. I still feel that knot in my chest, but I've come to appreciate her honesty. She could've hidden it, could've lied like I did before, but she chose to be real with me. That counts for something, right?
"Morning," she says, her voice soft, almost tentative. It's strange how we've settled into this routine of small exchanges, lingering between the silence and the weight of what we've been through.
"Morning," I reply, trying to keep my tone light, but it's harder than it should be.
I watch her pour herself a cup of coffee, the way her fingers brush against the mug, and for a second, it feels like we're back to how things were. But then reality crashes in. We're not there yet. We sleep in separate rooms, the space between us a constant reminder of the trust that's been fractured.
"Blue's waking up," she says, glancing toward the crib, her expression softening. I follow her gaze, my heart swelling with love for our little girl.
"Yeah, she is," I say, a smile breaking through the tension. "She's getting so big."
"That she is," Beyoncé agrees, a warmth in her voice that makes my chest tighten. It's moments like this—seeing her as a mother—that remind me of why I fell for her in the first place. But the ache of betrayal lingers, nagging at the edges of my mind.
We move together toward the crib, an unspoken understanding passing between us. As I pick up Blue, cradling her close, I can feel Beyoncé's presence beside me, the air thick with the weight of our history.
"Look at her," I say, unable to hide my awe. "She's perfect."
Beyoncé nods, her eyes shining. "She really is."
In that moment, I realize that while forgiveness is still a mountain I need to climb, Blue Ivy is our bridge. She's the light in the darkness, and for that, I'm grateful. As I hold our daughter, I know that maybe, just maybe, we can find our way back to each other one day. But for now, I'll take the small victories—like this moment, just the three of us, trying to navigate this new reality together.
