Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
AMIRYA
The bass still thumps, and the drinks still flow, but the energy in the section has shifted.
It’s not as loud as it was ten minutes ago.
Something beneath it all feels off. I sit back against the booth, one leg crossed over the other, glass untouched in my hand.
My face is calm—too calm. Bianca leans in, studying me.
“You good?”
I nod once.
“I’m straight.”
But my eyes are locked on True across the room. He’s by the bar, laughing, talking like nothing happened—like Tamika didn’t just drop a bomb in the middle of everything. I was fucking him while you were playing wifey.
The words replay in my head, not because I fully believe Tamika, but because True didn’t deny it fast enough. That pause—that hesitation—yeah, that’s what’s eating me alive.
Rhy slides into the seat beside me, still glowing from the chaos she caused.
“You quiet,” she murmurs.
I exhale slowly. “I’m thinking.”
“About?” she asks.
I tilt my head slightly toward the bar. “You see him.”
Rhy follows my gaze. True, laughing, and too comfortable.
“Yeah… I see him.”
I finally take a slow sip of my drink, controlled, measured.
“I don’t do embarrassment,” I say quietly.
“I know,” Rhy replies.
“I don’t do secrets either.”
That lands harder. Rhy glances at me again because she knows that tone—that’s not anger, that’s a decision.
Across the room, True finally looks over. When our eyes meet, he doesn’t smile. He knows. I hold his gaze without blinking, without softening, without giving him anything to work with.
Then I stand, smooth and unhurried.
“Where are you going?” Bianca asks.
“To have a conversation with this cheating-ass nigga.”
My heels hit the floor with quiet authority as I walk across the section, heads turning—not because I’m loud, but because I don’t need to be. True straightens the moment I stop in front of him.
“Amirya—”
“Don’t.”
One word, soft but sharp enough to cut him off completely.
“Let me ask you something,” I say, my voice even. “Did you fuck Tamika while you were with me?”
No yelling.
No scene.
Just truth—demanded clean. True drags a hand over his jaw, looking away for half a second—and there it is again. That pause.
I nod once, like I already have my answer.
“So… you’re hesitating.”
“Amirya, listen?—”
“No.” I shake my head slightly. “You listen.” My voice doesn’t rise, but the air around us tightens anyway. “I stood beside you. Loud. Public. And I stayed solid. And you had me looking stupid?”
“I ain’t never tried to play you?—”
“You did, though.”
That lands harder than anything else, because it’s not emotional—it’s factual.
“You just didn’t think I’d find out.”
True steps closer, lowering his voice.
“It wasn’t like that?—”
I let out a quiet laugh, not amused.
“It never is. But a fuck is a fuck… and I’m running out of fucks to give.”
I smooth my dress like I’m brushing dust off myself.
“I don’t fight over niggas.” My eyes flick briefly toward Tamika. “And I don’t compete either.”
Then back to him.
“I remove myself. I ain’t doing this shit with you anymore. I’m done.”
That hits harder than a slap.
“Amirya—” But I’m already stepping away. Already done. Back at the section, Rhy watches me return.
“What happened?”
I pick up my drink and finally take a real sip.
“He told me everything I needed to know… without saying a word. I told him I’m not doing this shit anymore. It’s a wrap.”
Rhy nods slowly—yeah, she knows that feeling too well.
Across the club, True stands there, still watching me walk away.
And for the first time all night…he’s not the one in control.