𝚋𝚎𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 - 𝚓𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚗 𝚙𝚘𝚘𝚕𝚎.

three.

Karianah Hayes.

Some time has passed, and life has settled into a new rhythm. Jahkari is almost four now, full of energy and constantly keeping me on my toes. I'm finally in therapy, working through everything that happened—and even though I'm not signed to a label anymore, I've been pouring my heart into my second solo album. It's just me and my music, no pressure, no expectations. The threats I used to get? They don't bother me as much anymore. I guess after everything, I've learned how to cope with fear differently.

I had just finished a session with my therapist, feeling lighter, more centered. I was heading to my Pilates class, driving down the familiar route I take every week. The weather was perfect, and I had my windows cracked just enough to let in the breeze. Jahkari was with his grandma today, so I had a little time to myself, which was rare but much needed.

Everything felt calm until it didn't.

Out of nowhere, a car cut me off, speeding dangerously close to the front of my SUV. I slammed on the brakes, my heart lurching in my chest as I narrowly avoided a collision. "Really?" I muttered under my breath, gripping the steering wheel tighter. People on the road were reckless, but I tried to shake it off, not letting it ruin my mood.

But then, as I adjusted my speed and continued on, I noticed something strange. The car that cut me off made a sharp, unnecessary turn, falling right behind me. I frowned, glancing in my rearview mirror, telling myself it was probably nothing. Maybe they just realized they needed to be on this side of the road. No big deal.

Except they kept following me.

Block after block, turn after turn, they were still there, trailing behind me like a shadow. My pulse quickened, and the ease I'd felt after therapy started to slip away. I tried to stay calm, to convince myself that this was all in my head. "It's probably just a coincidence," I whispered, even though a part of me didn't believe it.

I made a left turn, then another. The car followed. My grip on the wheel tightened, my knuckles white. I felt my breath come quicker, my mind flashing back to all those old threats, the paranoia creeping back in.

But this wasn't just paranoia anymore. This was real.

With every turn, every stoplight, the car stayed glued to my bumper. The calm I'd worked so hard to build was crumbling fast, and the tension in my chest grew, making it hard to breathe. I glanced around, trying to think of where to go—somewhere public, somewhere safe.

"Don't panic, Karianah," I told myself, my voice shaking. I needed to be smart, careful. I couldn't just drive aimlessly and hope they'd go away. But the more I thought about it, the harder it was to focus.

I checked my phone, thinking about calling Jordan or the police, but I didn't want to overreact. Maybe—just maybe—this was nothing. Still, I kept driving, my heart pounding in my ears, unsure of what to do next.

The car was still there. Every time I glanced in the rearview mirror, it was right behind me, never losing pace. My heart pounded in my chest, and every instinct told me something wasn't right. This wasn't a coincidence.

I couldn't ignore it anymore. My hands were trembling as I grabbed my phone off the passenger seat, the urge to call Jordan overwhelming. I couldn't handle this alone.

With shaky fingers, I dialed his number, my breath coming faster. As the phone rang, I felt my pulse pounding in my ears. Jordan was at practice, but I needed him. I needed to hear his voice, to know that he'd be there for me, that he could tell me everything would be okay.

"Come on, come on, pick up..." I whispered, my eyes darting between the road ahead and the car still tailing me.

After what felt like forever, Jordan's voice finally came through the line. "Hey, baby," he answered, sounding a little winded, like he'd just come off the court.