Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
RHYAN
Ididn’t even realize I’d fallen asleep. My mind had been running nonstop—I needed that shut-off. When I finally wake up, I grab my phone to check for missed calls or texts. Chauncey. He texted that he couldn’t slide back through tonight—something came up. I start to reply… then stop.
If he really wants me?
He’ll show me.
I set my phone down, exhaling slowly. I wanted him to come back. I wanted to see him… to feel him. I had forgotten how good it felt just being in his arms without all the extra shit. That peace? It hit different.
But not this time.
This time, he’s gotta fight for me.
Because I’m not doing it again.
I shake my head, annoyed with myself. One minute I hate him… the next, I hate that I still love him. That’s what pisses me off the most. Chauncey still has a hold on me. If he stays around too long, if he breathes on me too long… he becomes the only thing I can think about.
I need a distraction.
I scroll to Amirya’s name and hit dial. She answers on the second ring.
“Hey, Rhy,” she says softly. “Everything okay?”
“Hey… I was calling to check in on you.”
“Check on me for what?”
“I know we ain’t really talked about the breakup,” I say. “You and True have been together for a minute… I just wanna make sure you’re good.”
She lets out a short laugh. “Rhy, fuck True. I ain’t thinking about his ass. I’m good—call him and make sure he’s okay.”
“Amirya…” I burst out laughing.
“I’m serious,” she presses. “That nigga ran out of chances with me. I’m not spinning the block. He knows I’m out now—and he hates that shit.”
Her tone shifts, becoming more real now.
“I’m tired of him fucking random bitches, and they catch feelings. They can keep him. Sometimes shit just gets old. We’ve been doing this five, six years… at this point, what are we doing?”
I go quiet.
Because I feel that.
“If he wanna cheat, he can be single,” she continues. “We don’t gotta be together. We can both do what we wanna do. I’m not about to be anybody’s girlfriend for years without any real progress. That’s not the life I want.”
“I feel you,” I say softly.
“Do you?” she shoots back.
“I do… shit gets old.”
“It does,” she replies. After a pause, “I was surprised you came back, though. I was happy you left… thought you were finally finding yourself again.”
I stare at the ceiling.
“Yeah…” I murmur. “I didn’t wanna come back.” A beat. “But here I am.”
“So, what’s up with you and Chauncey?” Amirya asks. “Y’all looked really close earlier.”
I exhale, leaning back. “Honestly… I don’t know. I love him. That’s the problem. It’s hard as hell to just stop loving him.”
A beat.
“I want peace, though. Not chaos. I’m tired of smashing on bitches just to prove where I stand with this nigga.”
Amirya lets out a low whistle. “At least you’re honest.”
“I’m tired of looking crazy,” I admit.
“We both are,” she replies. “That’s why I’m choosing myself this time.”
She shifts, her tone changing. “So, what about this Dallas nigga? Bitch, you had the whole city talking. I knew that was gon’ wake Chauncey’s ass up.”
I shake my head, smiling despite myself. “Amirya… Kosh is that nigga.”
“I know,” she says, already nodding.
“He’s solid,” I continue. “Really big in his city. But he’s still a gentleman. Careful with me. Thoughtful. He’s different.”
A pause.
“I could really see myself being with him… If Chauncey and I were divorced. He understands me. Every part of me. And he’s faithful.”
Amirya perks up instantly. “Bitch… he got a friend?”
I laugh. “Yeah.”
“Say less. When are we going to Dallas?”
“Amirya.”
“I’m serious.”
“I’ll send you a picture of him and his crew. You can pick one.”
“Bet,” she grins. Then her expression shifts to something more serious. “So, if he’s all that… why aren’t you with him?”
That question sits heavy.
“Because I still love Chauncey,” I say quietly. “And a small part of me… still has hope for us.”
I swallow.
“I can’t hide that. It’s the truth.”
Another beat.
“I feel weak, Amirya.” She sighs, shaking her head. “Damn, Rhy… I wasn’t trying to be soft tonight.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Nah,” she says quickly. “Don’t do that. Love ain’t a weakness. It’s just dangerous.”
Her tone firms up.
“If you love your husband, I’m not here to judge you for that. But I’m gonna tell you this—make that nigga work.”
She pauses just long enough for it to land.
“Because this Kosh nigga?”
“He’s ready to run a whole lap for you.”
I nod slowly. “Thank you.”
“Chauncey better step up his fucking game,” she adds. “Before he gets left.”
“Yeah…” I murmur. “Thank you.”
We hang up, and I sit there for a second, the phone still in my hand.
Because she’s right.
And now? I gotta decide what I’m really willing to accept.
I set my phone down after the call with Amirya.
Damn, we had a much-needed, great conversation.
I can have conversations with Amirya that I can’t have with Bianca because she’s biased.
I’m letting everything Amirya said settle in my chest—make Chauncey work. I planned on it.
I’m not settling this time around. Kosh is ready. I need Chauncey to catch up and try harder because I’m lowkey rooting for him. I exhale slowly and reach for my phone again, not even sure what I’m looking for—a distraction, clarity, or something- because I’m not calling Chauncey.
That’s when I see it.
A notification.
Instagram.
My brows pull together as I open the Instagram app and tap into my messages, just to make sure I’m not tripping. An unread DM. From a name I already know. I promise this bitch doesn’t want to fucking play with me on any fucking day.
She thought I rearranged that fucking hospital. She doesn’t want it outside.
My stomach tightens instantly.
I know there’s some bullshit behind this.
What could Whitley possibly want with me?
I pause for a second, just staring at it, because ain’t no fucking way… out of all people—her? She got the balls to hit me up after I beat her ass.
I tap the message.
“Do you remember I beat yo fucking ass at the hospital, hoe?”
A sharp breath leaves my chest.
“Oh, this bitch got some nerves…” I mutter under my breath.
Then I see the next message sitting there, waiting. I open it.
I’m pregnant by your husband. For a second, nothing—no anger, no sadness, just blank. My brain is trying to catch up to what the fuck I just read. Then the photos load one by one—the suite, the bed, Chauncey, timestamps… then the test. Positive.
My chest tightens fast, like it’s knocking the air out of me.
“No…” I shake my head, scrolling back up like maybe I read this shit wrong, like maybe this is some kind of sick joke—but it’s still there. My stomach drops.
Clear.
Bold.
Unapologetic.
I’m pregnant by your husband.
My hand starts to tremble, and just like that, everything Amirya just said and everything I just felt—softness, hope—cracks hard.
Because this right here? This is exactly what I feared. The same cycle. The same hurt. Just dressed up differently. I let out a shaky laugh, but it doesn’t sound like me—it sounds broken.
“Fuck you, Chauncey…” I whisper.
My eyes burn, but I blink it back fast. Nah. Not this time. I straighten up, wiping my hands down my thighs like I can wipe the feeling off. Because if this is true… everything just changed. And if it’s not? Somebody is about to explain why the fuck they’re playing with me like this.
I’m finna call this nigga. He needs to drop his location. I’m finna show a bitch one more time. Chauncey was the wrong nigga to fuck, and I’m the wrong bitch to mess with.
I called Chauncey, and he didn’t answer. I called this nigga right back, and he did.
“What’s up, Rhy? You straight?”
“I was,” I replied coldly. He knows what type of time I’m on. “You got some shit you wanna say to me?”
He paused briefly.
“I love you, Rhy.”
I let out a sharp laugh because I’m fucking irritated.
“Drop your location. I’m finna pull up.”
“I’m handling business?” he says, his voice tightening.
“I know,” I snapped. “Drop your location because I’m finna show that bitch who’s sitting in that suite with you. I ain’t the bitch to fuck with. I showed that hoe once, and today’s finna be the last time I’m finna show that hoe.”
“What happened?” he asks. This nigga is cautious now.
“What the fuck do you think happened?” I fire back at his ass. “I ain’t pulling up just because I’m pulling up to handle my fucking business. I’m still waiting for the location to be sent to my phone. What the fuck are you waiting on, nigga?”
I slide on a pair of gray biker shorts with the matching sports bra.
“Rhy…”
“Chauncey, you heard what the fuck I said. This shit isn’t up for debate.”
Chauncey sends me his location.
Click…
I’m finna see about this bitch.