And I just look at her. "Ain't no n***a alive deserve to be with a woman as pretty as you," I say, pulling a spliff from my pocket, lighting it then taking a puff. She keeps her chin steady, but I see it, the way her eyes keep drifting to me and then away again. Like she's trying not to get caught up in the tension of the moment. Our eyes lock in this intense stare, neither of us willing to be the first person to break it. I drink her in, inhale everything that has me hooked around her finger, and more. We're mere inches apart, our faces hovering together, trapped in the intimacy. "Yuh think yuh deserve mi?" she replies, cocking her head to the side, the corners of her lips twitching with something between mischief and what I pray is lust. I get ready to exhale, eager to release the smoke from my spliff. Before I can, her fingers find my face, pulling it even closer to hers. My next exhale becomes her next inhale, our lips exchanging the sinful scent. "Hell nah..." I drawl, grinning at her slowly. "But me already know me aguh spend di rest a mi life trying to. Yuh know seh ah only when yuh deh beside me, me breath easy?"

The first time actress Talia Howard and director Zachary Knowles work together, it's clear they make something special on screen. But life has its own timing. Over the years, their paths cross again and again within Jamaica's film industry-each meeting brief, each leaving behind the quiet sense that some connections never quite fade. And when they find themselves working together once more, they must finally ask whether some stories are meant to be finished...or simply remembered.

"Move from in front a mi," I say. But it comes out softer. Weaker. More honest than I intended. I'd be on the first plane out of here tomorrow. Nothing that we've said in the past twenty minutes would matter once I am on that plane. We are tied to each other, and our pasts don't have to intertwine any more than they already have. He doesn't move. I step sideways. He mirrors me, like he's tethered to the same gravity. "Kymani-" "Selah" My name in his mouth feels like a dare. A part of me wants it to feel like a promise. I shake the thought. After what feels like a standoff written in the marrow between us, he finally exhales and steps back. Barely. But enough. I don't waste it. I slip from his hold, my heartbeat pounding in my throat, in my ears, in the soles of my feet as I bolt toward the door. I leave him there. Leave the house. Leave the heat still burning between us. And I run. Fast, desperate, the same way I did the first time I left this place. The same way I survived. I don't look back. Not at him. Not at the house. Not at the version of myself that's still trembling inside those walls. Not anymore.