Zaire has waited three long years to reunite with her best friend, Aiyana. Their joy is unmistakable, but her excitement quickly shifts when she meets Aiyana's boyfriend-Omari, the man Zaire once loved deeply.
Unbeknownst to Aiyana, Zaire and Omari...
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He dumped me.
I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at the text on my phone as if reading it one more time will change the words.
"I can't do this anymore. It's not working. I'm sorry."
The words feel like a punch to the chest, knocking the air out of me. My throat tightens, and tears burn my eyes, but I blink them away. I won't cry. Not yet.
I call him. Twice. Both times, it rings until his voicemail picks up.
"Omari, what the hell? You can't just send me a text like that and then ghost me. Call me back. We need to talk."
I hang up, my voice shaking. My heart pounds in my chest, confusion and anger swirling into a storm I can't control. This doesn't make sense. Just last week, we were fine-weren't we?
Or were we?
I think back to the past few weeks, the distance that had crept between us. The way he'd pull away when I tried to get close. The way he'd look past me, like I wasn't even there.
I run my hands through my hair, frustration bubbling up inside me. "What did I do wrong?" I whisper to the empty room.
My thoughts spiral, searching for answers that don't exist. And then, unbidden, a face flashes in my mind.
Zaire.
I freeze, the thought lingering longer than I want it to.
"No," I mutter to myself, shaking my head. "That's ridiculous."
But the seed is planted, and I can't ignore it.
Zaire has been acting... different. Nervous, distracted. Every time I mention Omari, there's this flicker in her expression, something I can't quite name.
And now, this.
I grab my phone again, scrolling through our messages. Zaire had brunch with me just this morning, acting like everything was fine. But was it?
Could she have something to do with this?
"No," I say again, more firmly this time. Zaire is my best friend. She would never do anything to hurt me.
Would she?
I try to push the thought away, but it clings to me like smoke, filling every corner of my mind. I hate myself for even entertaining the idea, but I can't shake it.
My phone buzzes, and for a second, I think it's Omari. My heart leaps, hope surging-but it's just a notification from work.
I toss the phone onto the bed and bury my face in my hands.
"What is happening?" I whisper, my voice breaking.
I feel the tears coming, hot and unstoppable. I let them fall this time, soaking into the fabric of my sleeves.
