Rhyan
The bass is thumping through the Range Rover’s doors… I should wreck this motherfucka. Fuck Chauncey and everything he stands for. He really thought he could play in my face and that I wouldn’t react.
It took everything in me not to kick him in his fucking chest. I swear I will make him hate me. Right now, leaving would be easy… but nah. He has to feel it.
The city lights blur into long, angry streaks as I weave through traffic. Horns blare, but it’s just background noise to the war raging in my chest. My hands are locked around the steering wheel, knuckles white, tears burning at the corners of my eyes but refusing to fall.
I’m not crying over that nigga again.
Not today.
Not ever.
My phone lights up on the dash—Bianca. I almost ignore it, but something in me needs a familiar voice before I crash out and do something I can’t undo.
“B,” I answer, voice sharp and ragged.
“Girl, what the fuck is going on?” she fires off immediately.
“What did you hear? I know Simmy aired my shit out.”
“Simmy was supposed to be home, but he turned that truck around so fast I thought someone had died. What happened between you and Chauncey?”
I sucked my teeth, letting out a bitter laugh.
“Same old shit, B. That’s what happened. Same. Old. Shit.”
“Rhy—”
“He called a bitch to the hospital, B. A bitch. After everything I’ve done. After sitting by that nigga’s bed, praying he’d open his damn eyes. Ten minutes after I walked out, he had some raggedy-ass bitch climbing into that bed like she was warming the sheets for him.”
Silence.
Bianca knows better than to interrupt when I’m bleeding.
“So yeah,” I continue, my voice colder now, “I beat her ass. And his, too. And I’d do it again.”
“Rhy…” she says carefully. “Where are you?”
“Heading back to my momma’s house to pack my shit.”
“You’re leaving?”
“I don’t know yet… because I’m not done making this nigga feel me. I’m done letting him play with me. Done. I’m over bleeding for a nigga who wouldn’t bandage me if I were shot right in front of him.”
“Girl, don’t say that?—”
“I mean it, B. This is how I feel. Fuck Chauncey. I meant that shit. He will never change. He’s addicted to chaos… and I’m addicted to saving him from it. And I’m done playing nurse to a grown-ass man who chooses poison over peace every time.”
I swerve around a slow car as the music climbs with my anger.
“Texas is calling my name,” I whisper, more to myself than to her. “My peace is waiting for me. I should’ve never let Kosh leave without me. I have a life there that doesn’t revolve around being Mrs. Chauncey Benyeir. I forgot what it feels like to just be Rhy… and I want that back.”
Bianca exhales slowly. “So, this is it?”
“This is it,” I say, jaw tight. “He had his chance. Hell, he had a thousand. And I’m not giving him another. He wasted every last one. This time, when I leave… I’m not looking back.”
A pause.
Then softer?—
“Alright. If that’s what you want… I got you. I’ll help you pack.”
“Thank you, B.” My voice drops, just a little. “I wanted Chauncey. That’s all I ever wanted. But I’m done fighting for him. Fuck reconciliation. And don’t let Simmy try to guilt-trip me, either. This is my choice. My peace. My turn.”
The call ends.
The music still thunders. For the first time since everything broke…I don’t feel weak.
I feel done. The road ahead is wide open. I press my foot harder on the gas. For the first time in a long damn time, I know exactly where I’m going—and it sure as hell ain’t back to Chauncey’s friendly dick ass.
The city feels different tonight.
Louder.
Brighter.
Messier.
Or maybe that’s just me finally seeing it without the rose-colored glasses I used to wear for him.
I ride with the windows down, music blasting, the wind slapping my face like it’s trying to wake me up.
Neon signs blur past—the block we used to post on, the restaurant where he promised me forever, the street corner where I once waited two hours just to see his trifling ass.
All of it.
And none of it feels like home anymore.
By the time I pulled up to Momma’s house, my chest felt both lighter and heavier at once. I killed the engine and sat for a second, staring at the front porch like it was the edge of something new.
Inside, I don’t waste time.
I tossed open the closet door and pulled down the few clothes I’ve bought since I’ve been here. Fold up the hoodie I wore to the hospital. Grab the heels I wore the night I swore I’d never cry over Chauncey again.
Almost a month in Teflon Hills… And everything I have to show for it fits in one duffel bag. That’s how I know it’s time to fucking go. I zip the bag and sling it over my shoulder—but before I make it to the door, I hear engines outside.
Multiple.
Loud.
The crew.
My stomach tightens. Through the curtains, I see them—Simmy, Coop, and True—climbing out of their cars like they’re about to stage a fucking intervention.
I rolled my eyes.
“Here we go…”
A knock pounds at the door.
“Rhy. Open up. We’re not leaving.”
I sigh, swing it open, and there they are—three faces I’ve known too long to deceive.“What the hell y’all want?”
“To talk,” Simmy says, hands up. “That’s all.”
“Talk fast. Tell y’all lil bitch ass friend he can speak for himself. He had so much to fucking say earlier—y’all can’t clean up his mess.”
Coop glances at the bag by my feet. “So you’re really leaving?”
“Yup. Why would I fucking stay?”
“Just like that?” True asks. “No goodbye, no conversation, no nothing?”
“What else is there to say?” I shoot back. “I said it all. He got mad because I didn’t want to fuck him? I wasn’t fucking him tonight because I’ve been fucking on Kosh for the past few days. I could’ve… to pacify his feelings. But I ain’t.”
I shake my head, voice tightening.
“I’m tired of screaming. I cried it. I bled it. And he still doesn’t get it.”
Simmy steps forward. “Rhy, Chauncey’s losing his fucking mind. He?—”
“Chauncey gon’ have to feel it,” I snap, cutting him off. “Because I’m done babysitting a grown-ass man’s emotions.”
“Rhy—”
“No. Listen to me.” My voice cracks—but I don’t care.
“This nigga has humiliated me over and over and over. And I stayed. I loved him through shit that should’ve sent me running years earlier. I forgave him even though I swore I wouldn’t.”
My chest rises, heavy.
“And how does he repay me? By calling a bitch to the hospital bed, I prayed over. By trying to hurt me because he’s hurting.”
I shake my head slowly.
“I’m not doing it anymore.”
I had to catch a beat because I could really hurt him.
“Why should I?” I add, quieter now—but sharper. “Would you want that for your sisters?”
The silence that follows…is heavy.
“Y’all want me to stay?” I ask, eyes flicking between them. “For what? So he can break me again? So I can spend another year trying to fix a nigga who don’t even wanna fix himself?”
Simmy opens his mouth—but I’m already shaking my head.
“I’m not doing it. I’m not staying. I’m not explaining myself.” My voice steadies, growing stronger with each word. “I’m going home. Back to Texas. Back to me. Back to a grown-ass man who knows how to love me without hurting me first.”
True exhales slowly. “So that’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Coop leans against the doorframe, studying me as if he’s trying to memorize this version—the one with fire in my eyes and peace resting heavy on my tongue. “You really done with him?” he asks, quiet.
I meet his gaze without hesitation.
“Yeah. Chauncey gon’ have to learn how to live his life without me… just like I had to learn how to live without the man I thought he was.”
I’m done catching a beat for this nigga. Nobody stops me because they can’t. Nobody argues because they know…this ain’t a bluff. And with that, I sling the duffel over my shoulder and step past them—not looking back.