Chapter 20 #2
That was the part I hated the most—how blurry the line felt some days. I knew better than anyone what it felt like to be stuck somewhere and feel like you didn’t have a say. I told myself I wasn’t doing that to Naji—that this was different.
But was it?
Naji had no freedom. She barely left the house.
Most days, she didn’t even make it past the damn kitchen unless she was with me.
And the truth was—I liked her close. Close meant safe.
Close meant I could see her… control the environment.
But maybe—just maybe—that was my own trauma talking.
My own need to contain what I cared about so I didn’t lose it.
“She’s my wife,” I answered with no shame.
“I don’t know her whole life story, but from what I do know, she’s been through some shit…
including my fucked up actions that has contributed to making her life even more miserable.
And if it’s a choice between protecting her peace or pleasing Giselle, you already know what side I’m on. ”
My father gave me a look, like he respected that more than he was willing to say outright.
“And that’s why you need to break the news at the dinner… with witnesses. Because God knows what your mother is going to do or say once she finds out.”
“One-on-one or in a room full of people, she’s still gonna show her ass. I already know it.”
“That’s true. Well, if there’s gonna be drama, let’s just get it over with in one sitting,” he said, exhaling like he was bracing for it too.
“You must be planning your grand announcement, too, huh?” I asked, wearing a smirk.
“Yes. But only in front of you, Dess, and her. But back to your wife. Don’t make her feel like a secret or like you’re ashamed of her.” His voice was firm—not accusing, but not soft either. “But I have to ask. Are you?”
First it was Grandma, now him.
“No,” I answered, without hesitation. “I’m not.”
And I wasn’t.
Not of Naji’s smile, her story, or even the mess that came with protecting her.
If anything, I was ashamed of the world around Naji.
The eyes that wouldn’t understand. The people who would pick her apart before they ever saw her.
But I couldn’t keep hiding her behind locked doors and good intentions.
Eventually, I had to stop protecting Naji like a fragile possession and start standing beside her like a partner… ready to face the world together.
My father nodded slowly; his eyes fixed on me.
“Well, just make sure you treat her right then. Whatever got you two here—whether it was strategy or circumstance—make sure she feels chosen.”
“You sound like Grandma.” I sat with his words for a second, then added with a nod, “I hear you, though.”
Me and him chopped it up for another thirty minutes—light talk.
When he finally left, I made my way to Naji’s room. The door was cracked. She was curled up, watching something on TV, but turned it off the second she noticed me standing there.
“Is… is everything okay?” she asked, her voice soft and unsure.
“Yeah,” I replied, taking a seat at the edge of her bed.
“So, next week my mama’s hosting one of her famous ‘family dinners.’ It’s something she throws when she either misses us or got some shit up her sleeves—usually both. Of course, I’m expected to be there… and I want you to come too.”
I could see her tics starting to surface—small, rapid movements that were just enough to signal that an emotional outburst might be brewing beneath her calm exterior.
I leaned forward, my voice low and soothing.
“Naji, I know that meeting new people makes you anxious. But like my pops said, sooner or later, people are going to find out we’re married.
I’d rather they hear it from me, in my own words, than piece it together from the blogs, where it could easily be twisted, or Dess’s Instagram story. ”
That got a smile out of her—small, but genuine.
I could see her processing my words, the tension in her shoulders easing just a bit as she focused on my reassurance.
“I’ll… I’ll go,” she agreed, catching me off guard.
I expected hesitation, pushback, or at least one sarcastic tic-laced rant about how stressful family functions were.
“Well... that was easier than I thought it would be,” I said with a slight chuckle.
“Only because I w-want to get out of this house,” she admitted, her voice trailing. “Speaking of w-which… when can I go back to work?”
“Not this week, but next,” I answered without pause. “I already talked to them. So you’re good. Just try to enjoy this time off.”
Naji nodded slowly, her eyes drifting down to her hands resting in her lap. A slight frown creased her forehead as she thought about the upcoming dinner.
“What will I wear to the dinner? And… my hair?”
Damn. I hadn’t even thought about that.
Naji was naturally beautiful—flawless skin, wild curls, no makeup necessary. But I knew meeting my mama meant appearances would matter, and not because I cared—but because Giselle would. And her idea of “acceptable” was impossible for most.
“I’m not sure,” I admitted, scratching the side of my neck. “But I know Dess wouldn’t mind helping you with that. I’ll give her a call when I leave out of here.”
Naji hesitated again, then lifted her eyes to meet mine.
“And when will you turn my phone back on? I… I need it,” she said, almost in a desperate tone.
I could see a tic flutter in her fingers.
“And n-not for what you think,” she quickly added. “I just… I need to feel normal again.”
What Naji asked for wasn’t a demand, but it was the most direct she’d been with me in a while.
Naji was changing… slowly. The nervous eye-darts, the constant nail-biting, the full-body tics every time we had a serious talk—none of that was present right then. Her tics were still there but not consuming her. And that told me more than any words could.
She was getting comfortable… with me… with us .
I leaned back slightly, narrowing my eyes as her words settled inside me like a decision I wasn’t ready to face.
Why hadn’t I turned her phone back on?
It had been three weeks, which was long enough to earn some trust, for Naji to prove she wasn’t plotting anything and to show that she wasn’t running away—because if she were, I was sure she would have found a way by then.
So what was holding me back? Was I still clinging to my paranoia, half-expecting her to flip the script and remind me of all the reasons I had been wary of trusting anyone?
Or perhaps there was a more selfish part of me—one that reveled in the idea that I was the only person she could turn to in this fucked up ass world.
And maybe that made me just a little more dangerous than I wanted to admit.
“I’ll take care of that too,” I finally responded. “Anything else?”
“Y-Yeah.” She paused, chewing her bottom lip. “I have a doctor’s appointment on Tuesday… here... with my neurologist. I can’t miss it. It takes forever to get another appointment. W-Will you be able to take me?”
Tuesdays were usually lighter workdays for me, and though I rarely cleared my calendar, I already knew I would for her.
“Yeah,” I nodded. “I’ll move some things around. We’ll go together.”
She smiled.
I made a mental note of the date, already plotting how to clear the day.
“Also… can you… can you get me some pads?”
Shit.
I forgot all about women and the monthly chaos that came with them—blood, bloating, back pain, the whole emotional rollercoaster wrapped in a crime scene.
I scratched the back of my neck. “Damn. You’re on your period?” I asked, realizing too late how blunt that sounded.
Naji looked away, nodding, clearly embarrassed.
“Okay. I’ll get some today. You need anything else while I’m out?”
She shook her head, but her eyes didn’t match the gesture. They looked unsure. Like there was something else—but she wasn’t ready to say it yet.
I didn’t press—I’d learned not to. Pushing Naji when she wasn’t ready only made her shut down, and her comfort mattered more than my curiosity.
“Aight,” I said, standing. “I’ll be back.”
After leaving her room, I went straight to mine to shower. I let the water run hotter than usual, hoping it would clear my head. But it didn’t.
My thoughts kept circling back to Naji.
Despite her saying she said she didn’t want anything else, I was still gonna bring her some snacks anyway, even if she was too shy, too stubborn, or too embarrassed to ask for more than the bare minimum.
As I mentioned before, Naji’s silence spoke volumes—much more than her words ever could. The way she curled in on herself when she asked for help, as if it physically pained her to need anything, made me want to support her even more.
So, I had already decided I was gonna get her the blue pack of Always maxis, some chocolate—two kinds, just in case—hot chips because who doesn’t crave something salty and spicy?
Some ginger ale, since I had heard that it helps with cramps, and I’d throw in some kind of sour candy that looked like a bad idea but would hopefully make her smile.
I wasn’t trying to play the hero or anything like that, but I refused to let her feel alone any longer… not on my watch.
Our marriage started as damage control—survival, even.
It was a decision made in a moment of chaos but it didn’t feel fake anymore.
I wanted to protect Naji—more than that, I needed to.
Naji was soft, yeah , but she was also strong in a way most people would never understand.
What she’d survived… and the way she kept pushing through despite it all. .. it humbled me.
I don’t know where we’ll be six months from now, or a year down the line, but I know one thing for sure: next week, at that dinner, Giselle is gonna test every nerve in Naji’s body. And I’d be damned if I let anyone—including family—make her feel small.
Chaos and Naji didn’t mix. But me and protection? That came naturally. And if it came down to it… even my mama could get checked.