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This book contains mature themes, explicit language, and scenes of a sexual nature intended for adult audiences only. It is rated R and is not suitable for readers under the age of 18.
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Onika Maraj Manhattan Suite
December 8, 2025
I knocked on the door, a little nervous that she might turn me away. Honestly, I was drunk but still aware enough to notice that the restaurant felt a bit empty, and I realized Beyoncé had left without saying anything to me.
I know I didn't give her a chance to explain, and I felt bad because she was there to celebrate me, but I had been ignoring her all night, caught up in my own thoughts.
I asked Solange where Beyoncé had gone, and she offered to drop me off. I really didn't have a choice but to stay. Beyoncé wouldn't kick me out, right?
"Who is it?" I heard from behind the door.
"It's me," I responded.
I heard the clicks of the door unlocking, and the door opened slowly. She peeked through, and I looked down to see she had her gun out.
I couldn't even blame her; after all we went through, she definitely did the right thing.
She opened the door wider and let me in. I walked in and saw all the decorations; it looked like she was starting to clean them up, and I felt horrible.
I saw balloons, rose petals, Chanel bags, gifts, and also a cake. I walked over-it was a heart-shaped cake with the numbers 30 on it. This was so sweet.
"It's yours; you can take it all before you leave," she said, going back to cleaning up. I turned around, walked to her, and grabbed her arm to stop her.
"I want to talk to you."
"Oh, now you do?" she asked, her tone a little defensive, but she had every right to be, and I was going to let her tell me how she felt.
"Bey, I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was kind of ignoring you until I noticed you weren't there anymore. It felt empty," I said.
"Right," she said, going back to cleaning again.
"Stop, Beyoncé."
"I'm checking out tomorrow morning, well..." she looked down at her phone. "It's 12, so in a couple of hours."
"Okay, but sit down for a moment. I want to talk to you. I want you to tell me how you feel. I don't want to be on bad terms with you; we've been so good lately," I told her as I sat down on the couch.
I needed to-my head was spinning, and if I didn't, my heels and I would end up on this floor.
Beyoncé sat on the other chair and looked at me before sighing. "I thought our communication was better than it was... for you to completely ignore me wasn't cool. I'm not saying you had to speak to me all night, but to give someone the cold shoulder when they're there celebrating you, all because you made an assumption, wasn't cool," she said, letting me have it.
