A/n: chileeeee
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Y/n's POV
"I'm not asking you for shit, bruh." My teeth gritted as I tried to contain myself from yelling over the phone. "You walking around telling everybody you gotta kid by me, but I'm wrong for telling you to give me a DNA test?"
"He's your fucking son, Y/n!" She yelled on the other line.
"You laid down with me, rather you remember or not. So, I don't owe you shit." I laughed bitterly at her response.
How the fuck you want me to provide you with money to take care of a jit that you not even tryna let me get proper confirmation on?
"Ian lay down with you, bruh. Stop saying that shit." I shook my head about to end the call because it wasn't going nowhere. "Last time I seen yo ass was in Brooklyn at that wack ass club. You came up to me on some shit and I pushed yo ass back. I did not say a word to you shawty, so why the fuck would I end up in bed with you?" I frowned.
"YOUR drunk ass pushed up on me later on!"She yelled back and I knew she was lying.
I did get drunk ass fuck that night, but not drunk enough to wanna fuck on some old shit. I had Bey on my mind the whole time and I knew that because my niggas back home was tired of me talking about her. "You funny A, that's the lie you got everybody believing?" My face twisted up.
"Your wife believes it." She said and I could hear the grin on her face.
"You don't know what my wife believes, Aaliyah." I leaned back against the couch, letting her talk.
"I don't? I just had a nice conversation with her yesterday, Y/n. So I would say that I do."
My leg bounced in an effort to control my soon to be outburst. I don't even know how she got in contact with Beyoncé, but that was the last thing I needed.
All she did was probably feed her some more shit to fit the narrative Bey was already leaning with. "Yeah, you trying me A. Ion need you feeding my girl allat bullshit."
"When she divorces your ass, we'll see if it's still bullshit." Is all she said before hanging up the phone on me.
I huffed loudly, letting my leg bounce up and down. "Fuck." I refrain from throwing my phone.
It was brand new. My other one was probably still in pieces, sitting in Beyoncé's trash can from our last conversation a few days ago.
I started fighting back and forth with myself.
I wanted to call her so bad.
I needed to call her so bad.
Because Ty was right, the longer this situation sits, the more fucked it's gonna get. Plus, Bey already had the chip in her head, and finding out that there was a kid involved wasn't going to help.
I hovered my thumb over Beyoncé's contact name. Although it didn't take long before I clicked it.
I repeated that action three times until she finally picked up. "Y/n, I swear to..." I cut her off before she could finish.
"Just listen, Bey. Just let me explain." I was desperate ass fuck. I needed her to really hear me. "I swear, I didn't get this girl pregnant. I didn't—I don't—"
"Stop." She cut me off, the sharpness of her tone cutting through my heart like a knife. "You said all you needed to say, Y/n."
"You can't fix this, right now."
I wanted to scream. I wanted to beg, but I couldn't. Her words held more weight than any apology I could give. "I'm trying to get the test, ma."
"Y/n, do you know that girl had the nerve to call me?" Her voice was like venom and she let out a bitter laugh as she spoke again. "I wasn't about to let her ass get one word out, but I'm happy I did."
