In the Streets of New Orleans, three girls are navigating life together in a passionate, polyamorous love. Their bond is a force of nature, helping them face their struggles and insecurities head-on. As they lean on each other for support, they real...
The apartment felt heavy, like the silence had its own weight. Moni was still on the couch, scrolling like the world wasn't crumbling around us. I couldn't hold it in anymore. My phone was burning a hole in my hand, the clip of Raj playing over and over in my head.
"Moni," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "You need to see this. That hot seat video Raj did? It's out."
Moni glanced up, her eyebrows raised in mild curiosity. "And? What did she say?"
I took a deep breath, already feeling the heat rising in my chest. "She said we made her feel like she didn't matter. Like we used her when it was convenient. And she's right, Moni. We let her down. We were the toxic ones, and—"
"Hold up," Moni cut me off, sitting up straighter. Her expression shifted, hardening. "We? Don't lump me into that. If anybody was toxic, it was you and Raj."
Her words hit like a slap. "What?"
"You heard me," Moni said, standing up and crossing her arms. "You and Raj were the ones always going at it, always dragging each other down. I stayed out of it. Don't try to pin this on me now."
"That's not fair, Moni," I shot back, anger bubbling beneath the guilt. "We all had a part in this. None of us treated her the way she deserved."
"Speak for yourself," Moni snapped, brushing past me toward the kitchen. "I'm not the one who made her feel like she was the problem. That was all you."
Her words lingered in the air long after she walked away, leaving me standing there, speechless and choking on my own shame.
I sat down at the kitchen table, staring at the blank page in front of me, the pen feeling too heavy in my hand. Moni's words replayed in my mind, sharp and unforgiving. Maybe she was right. Maybe this was all on me.
But I couldn't change that now. All I could do was own up to it. Even if Moni refused to see her part, I had to take responsibility for mine.
Raj,
I don't even know if you'll read this, but I need to say it anyway. I'm sorry. For everything. For how I treated you, how I made you feel, and most of all, for letting people think you were the problem when it was me the whole time.
I let my own pride get in the way of seeing how much I was hurting you. I made everything about me about my needs, my feelings and I never stopped to think about yours. You deserved better than that. You deserved better than me blaming you for things I should've taken responsibility for.
I know the internet's been eating this up, and I hate that I let it get to this point. I hate that I let people drag your name when I could've stopped it. I could've stood up and told the truth, but I didn't. That's on me, and I'm sorry.
I don't know if you'll ever forgive me. Honestly, I don't think I deserve it. But I want you to know that I see it now—all of it. The way I hurt you, the way I made you feel small when you were the one who held us together for so long. I wish I could take it all back, but I can't. All I can do is say I'm sorry and hope that, one day, you'll believe me.
I love you mama By Kamrie
The words poured out of me like a flood, every line feeling like a weight lifted and another one added all at once. By the time I was done, my hands were trembling, and my eyes stung with tears I hadn't even realized were falling.
I folded the letter carefully, setting it aside for when Raj's best friend came to pick up her stuff.
In the back of my mind, I wondered if Raj would even bother to read it. But whether she did or not, at least I'd said what I needed to say. At least I'd finally started to face the mess I'd made.
