𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐑𝐘.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐧 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

"—alcohol is my safe haven, my therapist and my solitude. It's the only thing that can ease my pain, the pain of feeling like such a fucking failure."

"The number of disappointments in my life was just sucking the life out of me; suffocating me if you will and that bottle right there was my only oxygen and nobody else could help revive me." You wept, before aggressively pointing at the bottle of alcohol sitting in the middle of the group circle.

"It didn't matter who I got in a relationship with or how many kids I pushed out that would ever ease the pain of my broken heart. All it took was one affair with the love of my life to break me to pieces."

Licking your cracked lips you briefly closed your eyes and took a deep breath before opening them back up and finished sharing your sorrows. "I was fed up with all of the lies, the forced smiles trying to pretend like my husband wasn't stepping out on me, I was tired."

Releasing a dry chuckle you begin to elaborate, "Tired of being a strong black woman so you know what I did? I caved. I went into my pantry, grabbed a nineteen forty-seven bottle of merlot that I kept from my wedding ceremony and gulped the whole thing. It felt s-so exhilarating like I could conquer the world but I only ended up destroying everything I loved."

Slouching back in the chair, you finished sharing your story to the aa group and waited until the instructor finished writing her notes until she clicked her pen and gave you her undivided attention.

"—now throughout your explanation, you repeatedly stated that you felt alone, but was there anyone in your life who you tried to express this feeling too?"

Biting the inside of your cheek, you timidly nodded your head. "T'Challa knew I had a drinking problem but he didn't know to a certain extent and Bast bless his heart. He tried, he really did but I would always end up succumbing to my addiction and sneak a sip or two whenever I had a chance." You sighed.

"I remember he drew up this big plan to help me do things if I ever started to crave alcohol like take walks through the garden or paint, hell he even suggested that I take up martial arts!" You weakly chuckled.

"It was so thoughtful, shit he was thoughtful but that plan only lasted a week." You mumbled, as a lone tear slid down your face as you recalled his wide smile as he detailed his plan step by step.

Damn, you miss that man.

It has been eight weeks; fifty-six days since the argument and since you've last seen T'Challa. The day after the dispute you recalled trying to reconcile with him but you were restricted access by the Dora Milaje and stripped from exclusive kimoyo beads; which halted all your contact with the King.

Shortly after T'Challa ceased all communication your drinking started to spill it's way back into your daily life. Eventually taking control of your life it affected your cognitive abilities causing your children to fall short of a mother's love. Noticing the drastic shift in your behavior, your ex-husband moved the kids to Gorilla City while you got yourself together.