A/n: this would actually make a good book but...
- also, ima try to update 'lost' tn. currently proofreading.
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Y/n's POV
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(Flashback, 2011)
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The sheets were still warm. Bey's body was still warm. And her scent—shit, shorty's scent lingered all over my skin like some kind of truth ian wanna wash off.
We'd been laid up for damn near an hour. Her leg was tossed over mine, head tucked into my chest like she belonged there. I had my arm around her, fingers absentmindedly brushing her shoulder, the other hand playing with the ring on her finger.
That fucking wedding ring.
Shit still ain't feel real. Like this girl—my girl—really went and married another nigga. Had a whole ass wedding. Took vows. Put his name before God and the world. And I wasn't even invited to be there and stop it.
I twisted the ring gently, watchin' the way it caught the light. She ain't stop me. Didn't even move. But I felt her breath hitch.
Then, outta nowhere, she started crying before getting up just as fast as the tears started. I didn't even realize what was going on until I felt the weight leave my chest. She grabbed her clothes off the floor in a panic, pulling her jeans up with shaky hands, jacket barely around her body before I sat up, confused as hell.
"Bey." I slipped my briefs on and stood up. "Yo, what's wrong? What are you doing?"
"Don't."
"Don't touch me." She whispered, like the words hurt coming out. Her hands were fumbling, and she wouldn't even look at me.
"Ma, come here." I said, tryna grab her hand, tryna hold her still. But she pulled away.
"I can't." She choked out. "I can't keep doing this."
"I'm married now, Y/n."
I scoffed a lil', before laughing. "Beyoncé?"
"How many times have you said that to me in the last two weeks?"
"Y/n, I'm married." She repeated it again, her voice more firm. Despite her tears.
I blinked, heart thudding against my chest. "Yeah...ok. And nobody told you to go off and marry that nigga."
"I love him!" She yelled, loud and broken. Her voice cracked and echoed off the walls. That was the first time she ever said it to me. Said she loved him.
And it was like somethin' in me snapped.
I frowned hard, jaw tight. "Sit down." My voice was low and sharp.
"No." She barked back, wiping at her tears. "I'm going home. To my husband. This is wrong, Y/n. This is so wrong."
"Beyoncé, sit the fuck down, yo."
"I said no!"
That shit blew me. Blew me bad. She was yelling like she meant it. But I could see the guilt drowning her. See the lie in her tears.
So I stepped in front of her, blocking her against the wall, close enough to feel her breath.
"Say that shit again, then."
"What?"
"Say it. Say you love him."
"I do." She cried, chin trembling.
I let out a dry, bitter laugh. "But you ain't in love with that nigga, Beyoncé."
"You wouldn't know that."
