ᴍᴏᴛɪᴇsʜᴀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴀᴘᴋɪɴɢ (#1 ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇʟʟs ᴛʀɪʟᴏɢʏ)✓

48: Tiesha And The Kidnap

Ky’Mon hadn’t touched Tiesha in two weeks.

The distance between them wasn’t just physical; it was a cavern of cold silence and unspoken pain.

Since that night—the night everything fell apart—he had changed completely.

Gone was the man who used to hold her close, who whispered promises against her skin. Now, Ky’Mon barely spoke to her, and only when absolutely necessary.

He didn’t look at her anymore.

Yet, they still shared the same bed, the same space that had once held warmth and desire. But now, it was a battleground of avoidance.

Sometimes, when she reached out for him in the dark, longing for the touch that once soothed her, he would quietly stand, slip from the bed, and disappear into the night, leaving her alone with the cold sheets and a hollow ache.

Tiesha had tried everything—apologies whispered in tears, gestures soaked in regret—but he didn’t seem to care.

The silence was his punishment, and it was killing her.

She felt the walls closing in as even his men began to notice the shift. The once indomitable King was retreating from his queen.

She missed him more than she could say.

That evening, as the fading light filtered into the bedroom, Ky’Mon dressed silently while Tiesha stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a thin towel.

Her eyes caught Esther playing quietly on the floor, her small hands tangled in Happy’s soft fur—the puppy they had rescued together.

“Ky’Mon,” Tiesha called softly, her voice trembling slightly, “Can I borrow the SUV?”

He didn’t respond. His hands were busy rummaging through his bed drawer. After a moment, he pulled out a key and dropped it onto the dressing table without a word.

“Ky’Mon,” she tried again, her voice steadier this time.

He paused, fingers hovering above the clothes he was folding but still didn’t look at her.

“Ky’Mon, please… look at me.”

His eyes finally met hers, scanning her head to toe, a cold distance in their depths. Then, without another word, he walked out.

A single tear escaped Tiesha’s eye, tracing a path down her cheek.

She hadn’t meant what she said earlier—the sharp words she had thrown like weapons in her frustration. She hadn’t wanted to lash out at him.

She was scared. She was frustrated.

She missed the comfort of his touch, but after what Zane had done, even Ky’Mon’s hands felt foreign—forced, like he was pushing himself to connect when his heart wasn’t there.

She cried every night, silently, hoping he would notice. But he never did. He acted so heartless, so cold.

Suddenly, the ache in her chest propelled her forward. Ignoring the thin towel clinging to her body, she rushed downstairs, searching for Ky’Mon.

She caught up with him just before he opened the front door.

“Ky’Mon, wait,” she said, grabbing his arm.

He turned slowly, meeting her desperate eyes.

“I went out,” she confessed, voice cracking. “I saw Zane. He touc—tou… He touched me.”

Ky’Mon’s eyes darkened instantly, hardening like steel.

“He did what?” His voice was low but sharp, threatening to snap.