𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐟 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

𝟐𝟒: "𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭"

I woke up to an empty bed, cold sheets brushing against my skin as the wind slipped through the open balcony door. I reached out instinctively, expecting to feel Onika next to me, but her side of the bed was vacant. A frown creased my brow as I sat up, letting the sheets fall away. "Baby?" I called out, waiting for her to answer. Silence. I heard a door open and close down the hall, which settled my worry slightly. She was up. She was here.

Slipping on my silk robe, I made my way to the bathroom, splashing water over my face to shake off the morning haze before brushing my teeth. There was a lot planned for today, a beautiful day out in Italy, and I wanted nothing more than to spend every moment wrapped up in her. After I freshened up, I followed the faint scent of coffee drifting from the kitchen, my senses waking up with each step.

As I entered the kitchen, I saw Onika already there, fully dressed and moving quickly around the stove. She looked… off. Her movements were jittery, and she kept sniffing, rubbing her nose like it was itchy or sore. "Good morning, baby," I greeted her softly, still watching her carefully. "You feeling okay? You seem… different."

She barely looked over her shoulder, flashing me a quick smile before turning back to the stove. "Morning, wifey. Nah, I’m good, why you ask?" Her voice sounded casual, but something about her tone felt forced, like she was covering up an edge.

I wrapped my hands around the warm coffee mug she’d set on the counter for me. “Thank you,” I murmured, leaning in to give her a kiss. But she turned away at the last second, too distracted with the eggs sizzling in the pan, rambling about the plans for today without even noticing she’d dodged my kiss. Her voice was fast, almost rushed, and she seemed so jumpy, so out of sync with her usual confidence.

“Are you sure you’re okay, baby?” I asked again, narrowing my eyes as I studied her more closely.

She bristled at the question, an unexpected wave of irritation crossing her face as she whipped around to look at me. “Yes, Beyoncé, I’m fine. What’s with the third degree?” Her tone was sharp, defensive, and for a moment, I was taken aback, stunned by the sudden shift.

I raised my hands, trying to diffuse the tension. “Alright, alright… just seemed like something was off. No need to bite my head off.” I took a sip of the coffee, letting the silence settle uncomfortably between us. But I couldn’t ignore it. Couldn’t ignore the way her pupils were dilated, her hands fidgeting more than usual. I felt a sick sense of dread building in my stomach, a worry that the weed I thought we’d left in the past had resurfaced.

Before I could second-guess myself, I stood up, crossing over to where she stood and reaching out to gently hold her face, making her look at me. I studied her features closely, noticing the slight redness around her nose, the faint remnants of something white on her nostril that looked far too familiar.

“Onika… is that… is that cocaine?” My voice was barely above a whisper, a mixture of hurt and anger lacing every word. My stomach twisted as the reality set in. Disgust, disappointment, hurt—all of it hitting me at once.