9. Egypt
EGYPT
S ome endings don’t feel real ‘til they hit you in the chest. Today was one of them.
The soundstage was dimly lit, the air thick with finality.
The last scene of The Coven was emotional but simple—just the three of us, walking down a shadowy hallway into a new beginning.
It was poetic, metaphorical, bittersweet.
“And cut!” the director called; voice tight with emotion. “That’s a series wrap on The Coven !”
At first, none of us moved. Me, Serenity, and Averi just stood there, frozen in our positions like time had paused.
Then we looked at each other—and that’s when it hit.
Full force. No warnings. Tears welled up in my eyes as I saw Averi already dabbing hers with the cuff of her sleeve, and Serenity breaking into a soft cry, biting her lip to keep from sobbing.
“I hate y’all,” I muttered with a laugh, my voice cracking.
“We were supposed to keep it together,” Averi sniffed, wiping at her nose.
“I wore waterproof mascara for nothing,” Serenity added, laughing through her tears.
We didn’t even say anything else. Just collapsed into each other’s arms—tight hugs, cheek kisses, hands in each other’s hair. The bond was deeper than work. Deeper than fame. It was sisterhood, forged in 16-hour days, inside jokes, shared trailers, and shared grief.
We knew each other before The Coven , but the show, It changed everything. It made us love each other more. We were women who’d shared success, failure, heartbreak, and healing. This wasn’t just goodbye to a set. It was goodbye to a chapter of our lives that made us better.
The crew clapped and cheered, camera ops and lighting techs jumping in for hugs and pictures, wardrobe tossing rose petals like confetti.
The energy on set was heavy, but warm. We were all grieving something beautiful.
And as sad as I was, I knew this was the step I needed to take.
I had a new purpose now. A different stage calling my name.
I was barefoot in the booth, curls clipped up, sweats low on my hips and a honey-colored filter of afternoon sun painting the studio floor. Terri was behind the board, her signature Bronx accent bouncing through the talkback mic.
“Aight, Egypt, let’s take that last verse again but ride the harmony softer this time, aight?”
“Bet,” I said, nodding, breath steady putting my headphones back on over my ears. I stepped back up to the mic just as the music started.
You say it in the way you breathe, not in the words you never say
And I reply with silence, 'cause I’m scared to feel the weight
But your hands on me say everything that your mouth can’t find
So we love between the lines, pretending we’re not crossing time
I was deep into a track called Unspoken , soft percussion, thick harmonies, and lyrics that sat like secrets on the tongue. The song was for me. About him. About everything we never said out loud but always felt in silence.
When I came out of the booth, I grabbed my tea and dropped onto the couch, neck rolling like I just came out of hot yoga.
That’s when Logan walked in, all crisp black linen and Cartier frames. He flashed that grin that usually meant he was about to ask me for something or tell me he needed a favor with a camera involved. But this time, he actually looked excited for me.
“Yo,” he said, clapping his hands once. Notice Me is moving. Streams are up again, and the label’s getting calls.”
I raised a brow. “From who?”
“Fallon. They want you on next week for a full set. Both the performance and a sit-down.”
I tilted my head and sipped my tea. “We’ve done Fallon before.”
“Yeah,” he smirked, “but not like this. Not as Egypt the Artist . Not with this energy. And that’s the difference.”
That made me pause. He was right. This was different. I wasn’t just showing up to promote a movie or series anymore. This was my music, my words, my sound. It was my name on the byline and the billboard.
“Let’s do it.”
He clapped his hands once. “I figured you were going to say that. I’ll start the paperwork. Get your glam team ready.”
He walked out before I could even scream. And the first person I wanted to call, text, run to, was Nasseem.
I stood in the hallway, phone in my hand, staring at his contact. It was our thing—me not calling him in moments like this. But I was tired of keeping him tucked away in my private wins. I didn’t want to celebrate like he wasn’t part of the reason I even felt like singing again.
I typed the message twice. Deleted it both times. He’d be proud. I knew that. But the truth was…I wanted to see his face when I told him. I wanted his arms around me when the nerves kicked in. I wanted him. And I hated that I couldn’t just have that.
Later that afternoon, I met Averi at one of our favorite low-key lunch spots downtown—Clover & Vine, a tucked-away eatery with lemon water in mason jars, soft acoustic covers playing through the ceiling speakers, and a view of the city skyline through floor-to-ceiling windows.
We grabbed a corner booth, tucked behind a big fiddle-leaf fig for privacy. I sipped from my green juice, legs crossed in leggings and an oversized hoodie. Averi had on shades and a slick bun, her signature iced chai in hand.
“You’ve been grinnin’ since you sat down,” she said, sliding her sunglasses down her nose. “Let me find out Marcus did a full 180.”
I snorted into my drink. “Absolutely not. Marcus is still corny. That man spent an entire date talkin’ about interest rates and real estate flips.”
“Ew.”
“I was lowkey glad that date ended early.” I told her.
“Ended early? You left that out… what happened.”
“Somebody I had been dealing with pulled up on us and abruptly ended that date.”
She sat back slowly. “Wait… you’ve been seeing someone?”
I nodded. A second passed before she leaned in, whispering. “Who?”
I stared at her for a beat, my stomach flipping. Because I hadn’t planned to tell anyone. Not yet. But suddenly… I didn’t want to carry it alone anymore. I didn’t want to keep him to myself in the dark like he wasn’t the best thing that had ever happened to me when I wasn’t even looking for it.
So, I sighed. “It’s Nasseem,” I said quietly.
Averi blinked. “Wait…what?”
I nodded, slowly. “Yeah...”
Her eyes went wide, mouth dropping open. “As in Creed’s best friend Nasseem? As in ‘scary fine, former problem child turned boxer of the decade’ Nas?”
“That’s the one.”
There was a brief moment of silence before she squealed “Bitch. I fuckin’ knew it.” I burst out laughing as she covered her mouth, looking around the restaurant like someone was gonna hear. “Since when?”
I looked down at my drink, rolling it between my palms. “Since Creed and Serenity’s wedding.”
“THE WEDDING? That was almost a year ago!”
“I know.”
“And y’all been what? Just…creepin’ in silence? Being fake enemies in front of all of us while fuckin’ in secret?”
“Basically,” I muttered, grinning against the rim of my glass.
Averi dropped her head into her hands. “Oh my God. Oh my God. That’s why he be lookin’ at you like that. I knew it. I knew something was up. I just thought he was lowkey tryna get at you.”
“Girl, he already got me.” I smiled brightly.
She blinked, then narrowed her eyes. “So, wait, is it just sex?”
I paused. “It started that way.”
“And now?” I didn’t answer right away. My eyes dropped to the table. Averi reached across and grabbed my hand. “Egypt.”
I looked up at her and nodded. “Now it’s more.”
She smiled softly. “So why didn’t you tell me before?”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
“Because…I didn’t want to share him. Not yet.
” She stayed quiet, letting me keep going.
“Everything in my life has always been public. My grief, my glow-ups, my wins. Even my messes. And I know y’all wouldn’t have judged us, hell, y’all probably would’ve thrown a damn party, but this…
this was mine. He was mine. It was the first time something felt that personal.
That quiet. And I didn’t wanna ruin it by opening it up too soon. ”
Averi nodded slowly, still holding my hand. “That makes sense. But you do know you don’t ever have to carry stuff alone, right? Especially not something this important.”
“I know,” I said. “I just…I liked the bubble. It was safe. It still is. But I’m starting to feel like I’m hiding something beautiful. And it’s getting heavier.”
“So, what now?”
I sighed. “Now I tell him. That I’m ready. That I want people to know. Because the Fallon invite came in and I wanted him there with me so bad and then I didn’t send the message…and it made me realize how stupid it is that I can’t celebrate with the person I’m in love with.”
Averi’s mouth dropped again. “Wait—you love him?”
I smiled, it was soft and vulnerable. “Yeah. I do.”
She shook her head, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. “I’m so happy for you. Like, genuinely. And I’m honored you told me.”
“You’re my best friend. I had to, besides he already told Creed I felt it was only right to tell my bestie.”
She sniffed and pointed at me. “But if y’all end up married and I find out I wasn’t the first to know about the proposal? We fightin’, on sight.”
I laughed, swiping under my own eyes. “You’ll be the first to know, I swear.”
We sat back, smiling at each other across the table like two girls who knew they’d been through too much not to have these moments.
“So, what’s next?” she asked.
I wiped my hands and pulled out my phone. “I gotta tell Nas I’m ready to stop hiding.”
Averi grinned. “Then what’re you waiting for?”
Pleasure had always been a sanctuary for our secrets. Low lighting, velvet walls, and a pulse in the air that vibrated like temptation. The air smelled like spice, sex, and luxury. Familiar. But tonight felt different. Tonight was for us. For closure. For a new beginning.