Someone To Love

Chapter 1

Chapter One: "Pressure"

"You just need to try, baby girl. How do you expect to find someone if you don't even want to look?"

That's the speech I hear like clockwork—from aunties, cousins, my mama's best friend Keisha, and even my vocal coach like she's my therapist.

It's not that I'm not open to love. It's just... complicated.
And not in the "cute movie" way either.

I didn't grow up watching love blossom over candlelit dinners and forehead kisses.
I watched it explode.

My father was the definition of dangerous charm. Everyone in the neighborhood knew Jay Montana. Smooth talker, stacks of money, fast cars... but behind closed doors? Rage. Control. Secrets. He had one foot in our home and the other in the streets. One night when I was seven, he kissed my forehead, promised he'd be back with dinner, and never came home.

Police raided our apartment at 2:43 a.m.
Guns. Screaming. Flashlights.
I hid in the closet, holding my breath while my mom cried on the floor.

They gave him 22 years.

After that, love became something I feared.
Mom (Faith) did her best to raise me right, but working double shifts meant I had to grow up fast. She was exhausted, always trying to protect me from the world he left behind. So I learned how to protect myself.

I built walls. Tall ones. And I haven't let anyone tear them down since.

Oh—right.
Let me backtrack.

My name is Heavenn. People call me Heav. I'm 23, got a voice that can hush a crowd, and a drive that don't quit. I sing, I dance, I grind, and I survive. Alone.

But now, people act like independence is a disease. Like I'm missing something just because I'm not boo'd up. Maybe I am. But if I am, it's because of him.

The other him.
The one I met when I was 18.

Jahlil.
Tall, chocolate, smile like sin.
He said all the right things at the wrong time. I was vulnerable, craving attention, and he knew how to feed my hunger. But he didn't just love me—he owned me.

It started with love notes and forehead kisses...
Then came the jealousy. The control. The manipulation.
One night, I found messages to three different girls. He gaslit me until I cried myself to sleep. The next morning, he brought roses like that made it okay.

The last straw?
He raised his hand.
Didn't connect.
But the intention was there.

I walked away that night with shaking knees and a bleeding heart—and I haven't looked back since.

⸻

8:00 a.m. My phone buzzed.

Rehearsal day.

I dragged myself out of bed, tossed my hair in a messy bun, and hit the bathroom. Quick hygiene routine, light makeup—mascara, eyeliner, gloss. I wasn't trying to impress anybody.

White shorts. Zip-up lace crop top. Black-and-white polka dot canvas shoes. Simple, cute, effortless.

My phone lit up again. Bree. My real one. Probably the only real friend I've got. People either envy you or misunderstand you when you've been through hell and still walk like heaven.

Still... I miss Charm.
She was loud, loyal, caramel, and chaotic in the best way. We fell off and I can't even remember why. Maybe I got cold. Maybe she got tired of melting me.

I texted Bree back and hit the road.

⸻

Later

Dance rehearsal left my body sore and my soul satisfied. I loved the feeling of giving everything to the stage.

But now? I needed food.
Chick-fil-A was calling my name.

I pulled up, parked, and stepped inside—and instantly stopped cold.

Is that—?

No.
It can't be.
But it is.

Jahlil.
Sitting in a booth. Hoodie low. That same crooked smirk that once made my knees weak and now makes my stomach twist.

What is he doing here?

Is he following me? Watching me?
Or is the universe just being petty?

I froze.

All the memories rushed in like a wave I didn't ask for.
Five years.
I haven't seen his face in five long, quiet, healing years.

So why now?

⸻

**Who really is Jahlil, and why is he back?

**Can Heavenn hold onto the peace she's built... or is she about to fall again—this time for someone even deeper in the streets than her father ever was?

**Everyone is listed above