Tori Kelly and André Murillo have a year of marriage under their belt and now the pressure is on for them to pop out a little one. Sadly, Tori isn't feeling the same. With no one to truly go to she must go to her hiding place in order to stay sane.
Tori laid on the couch with her still sick child attached to her hip. They had spent the previous day in the ER getting Irie checked out for Dré's sake only for the doctor to tell them what Tori told her husband. It was just a stomach bug. With a new environment, the doctor guessed that Irie picked up something and that she would get over it within a week with some antibiotics. And with the antibiotics taking full effect, Irie was getting a nap before Thanksgiving dinner. A dinner that Tori was told she was not allowed to help cook, because of her bed rest, per both she and André's mom request.
Tori scrolled through her phone looking through the buzz she had created on IG the nights before. The profile of her bump and the random picture of André and Irie asleep in the same position she had posted the day before were all over her mentions. It weird to look back and think about how she thought she was big only to realize that she had no idea what big was and that she was only getting bigger. And she didn't know, but as soon as her third trimester hit she was expected to gain a pound a week. Tori was not for that, to say the least.
After scrolling aimlessly for a few minutes, Tori started to loose focus. The movement and squirming of Abiah, caused Tori's brain to become way too distracted. She opened the Instagram story camera and took a video of her stomach moving before panning to André leaning against the island counter with his back to her. "You did this to me," she whispered before the video went off. The restless wife tagged her husband in the video and posted it before dropping her phone behind Irie on the coffee table. As Tori turned to sit up, she pulled her arm from under the seven year old and saw how wet her arm was. "Dré, take her down to her bed and put the fan on," Tori instructed. André moved around the counter and put his phone down next to Tori's as he went to pick up his daughter.
"Why can't she stay up here?" He asked, starting for the stairs.
"She burning up, babe. And I don't want to put the air on up here and have everyone freezing," Tori replied. With a nod André carefully jogged down the stairs, leaving Tori alone. Once he was out of sight and earshot, a sudden urge to snoop came over Tori after last weeks events, pushing Tori to quickly grab her husband's phone and unlock it. Her fingers did the work as they searched for his messages and eventually came across a name that could light a match off of Tori's head. Most of the messages had been deleted, go figure, but one stood out very clear.
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"You have to be kidding me," Tori whispered, throwing André's unprotected phone at the wall and watching it fall with shatter screen onto the couch. André rushed back upstairs to see Tori on the couch with her arms folded, face twisted, legs crossed angry.
"Babe, what—" he said before coming around the half wall to see his phone screen. "Tori! What the hell!" He yelled.
"Don't get an attitude with me! I saw her text! Interior designer my ass! You have a family! You need to call your bitch and tell her to lose your number. That is if your screen still works," Tori spitefully cursed. She had never used that many words in one setting or really at all in her life before. And she hated that she said them, but when Victoria came out, Tori had very little control over what was going to come out. In the heat of the moment Victoria got up, bumping shoulders with her husband on her way their bedroom. She had no more tears to cry. She wasted the last of them the previous night. Now, she was ready to rage.
