𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄.

1.

15 Years ago.
Beyoncé Knowles.

The late afternoon sun warmed my skin as I leaned back against the tree, my head resting on Onika's shoulder. The scent of her perfume—sweet with a hint of spice—wrapped around me, making me feel safe, grounded. In these quiet moments, it felt like nothing else in the world mattered. Just me and her. Everything else faded away.

"You know," she said softly, her voice playful, "if you keep sitting this close, people are gonna think you're obsessed with me."

I smirked, my eyes still closed. "Oh, I am obsessed with you," I teased, my voice light. "But don't act like you don't love it."

She laughed, the sound soft and sweet. "You caught me," she said, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "I do love it. You're my everything, honey."

Hearing her call me "honey" made my heart flutter the way it always did when we were together. It was a nickname only she used, a pet-name that meant more than just the sweetness it implied. She said I was her sweetness, her calm. There was something about the way Onika said it that made me feel like I was hers, completely.

I tilted my head to look up at her, catching the warm, playful look in her eyes. It was moments like these that reminded me how much I loved her. I didn't need anything more than this—just the two of us, wrapped up in each other.

"I could stay like this forever," I whispered, letting the weight of those words sink into the space between us.

"Forever sounds perfect to me," she replied, her voice soft, full of warmth. "Just you and me, baby."

Her hand slipped into mine, our fingers weaving together as naturally as breathing. It had always been like this with Onika—effortless, beautiful. She was my wild, free spirit, chasing after her dreams with everything she had, while I was her constant, the one she knew would always be there when the world got too big. Together, we made sense.

"I'm so proud of you," I said, turning to kiss her hand. "Everything you've accomplished, everything you're doing... I couldn't love you more."

She squeezed my hand gently, her smile softening into something more intimate. "I couldn't have done any of it without you," she said quietly. "You're my home, baby. My love."

Hearing her say that made my heart swell. Onika had always been my safe space, my person. And knowing I was hers made everything feel right, like the future was ours to take.

But then, I noticed it. The way she tensed, her fingers suddenly still in mine. My heart skipped, and not in the way it usually did when she was around. Something was different.

"Baby..." she started slowly, her voice softer now, cautious. "There's something I need to tell you."

I shifted to look at her fully, searching her face. She wasn't meeting my eyes, her gaze fixed on our hands. My stomach tightened, a nervous flutter starting deep inside.

"What is it?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. I could handle it. Whatever it was, we'd handle it together.

She took a breath, then looked up at me, her eyes filled with something I couldn't quite place. "I got the call," she said carefully. "It's about the theater program in Europe... I got in."

Her words seemed to hang in the air between us, and for a moment, I didn't know how to react. I blinked, trying to make sense of it. The theater program. Europe. The dream she'd been working toward for years. It had always felt like something far off, something we didn't need to think about yet. But now, it was real.

"Oh," I managed, my voice quiet. "That's... amazing, baby."

She smiled, but it was small, hesitant. "Yeah. It's huge. Everything I've been working for."

I forced a smile of my own, nodding along. This was supposed to be exciting, something we'd celebrate together. But all I could think about was the distance. Europe. How could we make that work?

"How long?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

"A year and six months," she said softly, her gaze dropping again. "Maybe longer, if things go well."

I felt my heart drop. A year and six months. Maybe longer. It suddenly felt like the ground was shifting under me, like everything we'd built was slipping away.

"That's... incredible," I said, forcing the words out. "I'm so proud of you."

But inside, all I could feel was the fear. The uncertainty. The ache of knowing that she'd be gone for so long.

    ❀

Later that evening, the apartment felt too quiet. The silence between us was thick, heavy with everything that hadn't been said. I moved around the kitchen, setting down the takeout we'd picked up, but I couldn't stop thinking about her leaving. A year and six months. How were we supposed to make that work?

"When do you leave?" I finally asked, my back still turned to her. I didn't want her to see the look on my face, the worry I couldn't push down.

"Next month," she said quietly, and I could hear the guilt in her voice.

Next month. The words hit me like a weight. It was too soon. Too real.

"That's... soon," I said softly, still not turning around. I needed a moment to catch my breath, to stop the sudden rush of emotions.

"I know," she said, her voice full of regret. "I didn't want to tell you until everything was confirmed. I didn't want you to worry, baby."

Worry? The word stung. Like I wasn't supposed to care, like I wasn't supposed to feel like my entire world was being turned upside down.

"Worry?" I repeated, turning to face her. "Of course I'm worried, Nika. You're leaving."

She stood, crossing the room toward me, her eyes full of that guilt she always tried to hide. "It's only for a year and six months. We'll make it work. You know how much this means to me."

I shook my head, crossing my arms over my chest as I tried to keep the frustration from bubbling over. "I know how much this means to you. But it feels like you've already decided, without me."

"That's not fair," she said, a touch of frustration in her voice now. "I didn't want to stress you out before I had all the details. I thought we'd figure it out together."

"Figure it out?" I repeated, my voice rising. "How are we supposed to figure it out when you're across the world, living your dream, while I'm stuck here? What about us?"

Her expression softened, and for a moment, she just looked at me, like she didn't know how to fix the distance that was already forming between us. "My love, this isn't forever. It's just for a little while. You know I love you. That hasn't changed."

"But everything else is going to change," I said, my voice breaking despite myself. "What if you get there and... what if you realize you don't need me anymore?"

She stepped closer, taking my hand in hers. "I will always need you. You're my home, baby."

I looked down at our hands, the familiar warmth of her touch making my heart ache. I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe that we could make it through this, that love was enough. But the fear—the doubt—it was too loud.

She squeezed my hand gently. "We can do this, baby. You and me. We're stronger than this."

I nodded, but as I glanced at the suitcase sitting in the corner of the room, I couldn't shake the feeling that everything was about to change.

We stood there in silence, the weight of it pressing down on us both. And for the first time, I wasn't sure if love was enough to hold us together.