A/n: She's backkkkkk
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Y/n's POV
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I woke up with my back screaming.
The hardwood floor had me feeling every year of my fuckin' life. My neck was twisted, and one leg was numb and tingling. Light shined through the curtains, but I stayed motionless. Even if I wanted to move, a nigga couldn't.
Beyoncé was still tucked against me, her back pressed against my chest and her head resting under my chin, as if she belonged there. Her hand rested loosely over mine on her stomach, nails right against my wedding band as her breathing was heavy.
I stared at the top of her head. Her puffy eyes and swollen cheeks portrayed her tears from last night. She looked small and vulnerable, a side of her rarely seen by the outside world.
My chest felt tight, but different now. It wasn't as heavy because she knew.
She finally read the statement and saw the truth with her own eyes. That revelation lifted something off me, even though the situation still hurt.
I didn't wake her. Instead, I let my head fall back against the wall and breathed deeply. My arm remained around her waist. I wasn't ready to let go yet.
A while later, she stirred, shifted, and then froze when she realized her surroundings. Her hand tightened on mine for a moment before she looked up.
Our eyes met.
She appeared tired and guilty. The weight of her actions now restin' on her chest.
"Are you okay?" She asked quietly.
I nodded. "Yeah."
She watched me, then laid her head back down as if it was the simplest shit. As if she hadn't spent months tearin' a nigga apart.
We remained in that state until she eventually pushed herself up.
"I need to use the bathroom." She mumbled.
"Okay."
When the door closed, I forced myself off the floor, groanin' in pain. My back protested, and I stretched slowly, rollin' my shoulders and cursin' under my breath.
"I'll never sleep on any fuckin' floor again." I mumbled.
My phone buzzed on the bed, filled with messages from Desiree.
I sucked my teeth and called her back.
She answered quickly. "Y/n."
There was no greeting. Straight to the point.
"Why aren't you on your flight? Again."
I leaned against the dresser, rubbing my face with a hand. "Desiree, you know what the fuck is goin' on out here."
"I do. But I also know you got a company to run. These Fanatics execs aren't playing. They've been waiting on you for the equity talk and the new licensing deal. I can't keep pushing this kind of stuff back."
I rubbed the back of my neck. "Bruh—"
"Plane can be ready in two hours. You land, go straight to the office. I'll send the briefing."
I exhaled hard, eyes closin'. Two hours. That was it?
"Aight. I'll be there."
The bathroom door opened behind me. Beyoncé stepped out, drying her hands. She saw me on the phone and kept her voice low. "I'm gonna wake Blue."
I nodded.
She looked at me a second longer, like she wanted to say somethin' else, then walked out.
Desiree kept talkin' but I was only half listenin'. When I finally hung up, the hallway was already full of noise. Blue's sleepy voice. Beyoncé tryin' to get her movin'.
I headed downstairs.
