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

51: Tiesha And The Recovery

A few weeks had passed since Tiesha had begun sharing her story with Preya, the therapist Ky’Mon had insisted they see.

Today was different. This time, Ky’Mon sat beside her in the softly lit office, his presence as unyielding as ever.

Tiesha shifted in her chair, feeling the weight of his gaze on her even before the words had left her mouth.

She hadn’t even begun the story, and already, his look made her stomach tighten—a sharp mixture of protectiveness, frustration, and something darker she couldn’t yet name.

“Mr. Bells, please don’t make your stare so obvious,” Preya said gently, trying to ease the tension in the room.

Ky’Mon turned his glare toward her but said nothing.

“Tiesha, it’s fine,” Preya reassured, “Just like you told me.”

Tiesha took a breath and nodded, steeling herself.

She began.

The story wasn’t easy; each word pressed into raw flesh and reopened wounds she thought had barely started to heal.

Yet, somehow, telling it out loud made it less heavy, less sharp. Her voice quivered, but she kept going.

Ky’Mon sat stiff beside her, nodding slowly as Preya addressed him in a low, measured tone.

His face was hard, clenched like a man ready to carry out a deadly mission—but beneath that grim exterior, there was a storm swirling.

When she finally finished, the silence was thick.

What was he thinking? What did he think of her now, of the woman who had endured so much?

He remained silent, and his nodding continued as Preya spoke with him quietly.

By the time they left, Ky’Mon didn’t say a word.

The drive home was heavy, loaded with unsaid things.

Then, as if breaking the silence only for himself, Ky’Mon muttered, “I’m going to kill them.”

His voice was low, grave, haunted.

Not looking at Tiesha, he gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles whitened.

“Every bastard that touched my woman,” he spat under his breath.

Tiesha sighed and kept quiet.

When they arrived home, before she could step inside, Ky’Mon pulled her into his chest, holding her tight as if trying to shield her from a world too cruel.

“I’m going to the trap. I’ll be back later,” he said softly.

She nodded, pressing her face against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

He murmured, lifting her chin gently. “You still my Queen, Lil mama… my wife, my baby mama. Ain’t nothin’ change. Stop lettin’ yo’ mind run wild.”

“Smile for daddy.”

She gave him a tiny, fragile smile, and he licked his lips.