The Jamaican Don Prised Possession

Apology

AHARIA'S POV

⸻

See why me hate man?

"Just let me go, no G," I said, yanking my hand out of his grip and walking off, heading straight to the room and slamming the door behind me.

I sat hard on the bed, glaring at him through the open doorway as he stood there, staring at me like he didn't just piss me off.

We locked eyes for a while.
Neither of us said a word.
I hissed my teeth and looked away first.

A just cause him look intimidating.

When I glanced up again, him still deh deh — leaning on the doorframe like him own the place.
Then him chuckled, shook his head, and turned away, pulling the door shut behind him.

Good. Him can stay out deh.

Imagine — yah come home all odd hours a night ignore mi call dem and then wah come act like everything normal - yuh mad

I grabbed my phone and opened Instagram, scrolling aimlessly to distract myself.
Before I knew it, over an hour pass.

Still feeling annoyed, I went downstairs.
ZY was posted up on the couch watching something loud on the TV.

Typical.

I walked past him into the kitchen.
Opened the fridge and saw some shrimp.

Perfect. Mi belly just start bawl.

I decided to make shrimp Alfredo.
Something light but sweet enough to cool mi head.

After about thirty minutes, everything done.
I plated some for myself and, outta pure manners, fix a plate for the same likkle ediat.

"Yours inna di microwave," I said dryly, passing behind him and dropping into the opposite side of the couch with my plate and the remote.

"See how me lowe yuh out, likkle girl," he said without even looking at me.
"Put dung the remote an' try nuh change wah me a watch."

"Ano dat," I replied and changed the movie anyway, holding eye contact while mi do it.

'Cause like, who is you fi tell me wah fi do?

ZY got up, came over, and took the plate from my lap, setting it on the table like seh me a pickney

"Yuh want me affi f**k yuh up, likkle girl?" he said, pulling me onto his lap in one swift move, his hand sliding around my throat.

I stared him down.
Didn't blink.

"Ahh—" I gasped slightly when his grip tightened for a second, just enough to send a warning.

"Yuh no hear man a tlk to yuh ?" he said, pulling my face closer.

I stared into his eyes, lips pressed tight, trying not to let the heat in my chest show.
He always did this — used tension like a game.

But not tonight.

I leaned in until our foreheads touched.

"Yuh done?" I asked softly.
"Or yuh need one more chance fi act stupid?"

He smirked.
"Mi like when yuh talk spicy, eno."

"Good. Cause mi deh pon pepper tonight."

I slipped off his lap, took back my plate and the remote, and got up.
Walked upstairs without another word.

If him smart, him stay downstairs and eat the food mi fix.

But two minutes later, there was a light knock on my door.

"Aharia."

I ignored him.

"B open the door no "he said again.

I stayed silent.

A pause.

Then:

"Mi sorry, alright?"

I looked over at the door, still not answering.

"Mi shoulda answer di phone. Mi just needed some time."

Still nothing from me.

Then his voice dropped low.

"Mi know seh a fuckry me do b , me sorry bout dat. Mk me should a ansa e phone and it nah go happen again"

I breathed in deep.
My hand hovered over the lock, thinking.

And then, quietly, I stood up, walked over, and cracked the door open just a bit.

His eyes met mine — soft this time.
No attitude. No ego. Just him.

"Next time," I said,
"Talk to me before mi haffi show yuh seh me ano e one"

He nodded once.

We stared again for a moment.
Tension still there, but it had changed.
Less fire, more flicker.

"Come eat," I mumbled.

"Only if yuh sit beside me."

I rolled my eyes but opened the door fully.

"Come before mi change mi mind."

He smiled, walking in past me.