What is wrong with him? I hate that he stares. I hate the feeling it gives me. It's unsettling... Blood rushes to my face... my head... It's... nauseating. And inconvenient. If he would just stop staring, I could get on with my life and my time here. So what if we've met before? He can continue to ignore me as he has been. I can do the same with no problem. None at all. I just... I want him to look away. I need him to. So I can breathe.

"Yuh love mi, Niyah?" He doesn't blink when he asks. His eyes hold hers steady, not playful, not teasing. Serious. Like the answer matters more than he's willing to admit. "Love yuh more than how mi probably love mi self." The confession leaves her soft but sure. And it's the truth. The love they share isn't built on convenience. It's built on history. On knowing each other's worst moods. On arguments that didn't end in walking away. ........ -dhxnleeee🤍'!