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Beyonce's POV ___
"No, Mama. I'm done."
My voice was steady, but I could feel my chest tightening and my hands trembling as I gripped the glass of whiskey. I barely even took a sip, but it burned my throat like it had been sitting in my gut for hours.
All of the betrayal, the humiliation, and the déjà vu from tonightmade my stomach turn.
"I'm fucking done." I repeated, louder this time, trying to hold in everything I wanted to scream.
On the other end of my phone was a FaceTime call with my mama's concerned face filling the screen. She had that look—one of knowing, one of warning, one of exhaustion from seeing me like this too many times.
"Beyoncé, calm down. Your—"
I cut her off before she could finish. "I'm flying home to get my fucking baby, and we're leaving."
I sat my phone down and began pacing back and forth across the penthouse. My feet, refusing to stay still as my free hand pressed against my temple, trying to stop the rage from swallowing me whole.
"She don't give a fuck about us anyway, right?" I muttered through my gritted teeth, my voice lower but thick with anger. The words tasted bitter.
She don't give a fuck about me. She don't give a fuck about Blue. She don't give a fuck about this family we built.
The thoughts were consuming me. My mama kept talking, her voice distant over the phone, but my ears were ringing too loud to process anything, anyways.
And then, my anger boiled over.
"She can go out and do shit like this!" My voice cracked, rage colliding with the pain I had been holding back. "She can humiliate me, make me look fucking stupid in front of the world!"
The tears hit before I could stop them, hot and fast. I hated crying. Hated letting anyone see me this weak, even my own mother. But tonight, it was too much.
Before I could think, before I could stop myself, I launched the whiskey glass across the room. The sound of it shattering against the wall filled the silence that followed, sharp like the betrayal sitting in my chest.
"Beyoncé, stop!" My mama's voice snapped me back to reality, but I was still breathing too hard, still too deep in my own storm.
"I can't do this, Mama." I whispered, running a hand down my face.
She sighed on the other end. "Baby, I know you hurtin'. I know you angry. And you got every right to be. But don't let that anger make you do somethin' you can't take back."
I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head.
Too late for that.
"I'm taking my baby and I'm leaving." I repeated, voice calmer but firm. "I'm not doing this shit again. I refuse to be that woman again."
