Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
RHYAN
Tonight is one for the books. If somebody had told me my night was gonna end like this, I wouldn’t have believed them. I can’t even talk about what really went down—it’s some shit I can’t speak on, and this is one of those things.
I grip the wheel a little tighter, exhaling slowly. Something in the air had me moving calmer than I should’ve, and that calm was throwing me off the fucking most. I didn’t even cuss Chauncey out. Then my thoughts jumped straight to that bitch Whitley.
Bitches will do anything for some dick.
I wasn’t surprised Whitley pulled that stunt. She was thirsty from the moment she stepped into his room. Ms. Joseph was cool, but she should’ve fired that bitch. I might still circle back and handle that myself. Then I remembered the footage, and everything shifted.
Something told me to go get that footage before it got wiped, and when I watched it, I knew exactly what I was looking at.
I wanted to throw up.
She really fucked him in that hospital bed… while he was in a coma. Yeah… she was trying to trap him, and that was the proof.
I was gonna take that to the grave with me. But Whitley got bold. Thought she was playing chess… whole time, I’m the one who cleared her off the fucking board. That footage sealed it: don’t play with me.
Don’t play with me.
I shake my head, blinking through the haze still sitting heavy in my mind. Then my thoughts turn to a different question—how many more? How many more of these bitches are out here? And why am I only finding out now? That question sits heavier than the rest, and it pulls me back into myself.
I’m tired.
Tired of checking hoes.
Tired of cleaning up behind a grown-ass man.
Tired of loving somebody who comes with this much chaos.
But even with all that, tonight felt different. Chauncey felt different. For once, it seemed he was truly afraid of losing me, and that changed something. That thought stayed with me all the way home.
Damn… I don’t know if that’s enough, but it’s something, and right now, I’m clinging to it. I pulled into the driveway, killed the engine, and sat there longer than I should’ve.
What am I really doing? For what it’s worth, I’m going home tonight, and somehow, that feels strange. I can’t help but wonder what comes next, and the question lingers as I look toward the house.
Damn… it had been a minute since I’d been home. The landscaping was still pristine—freshly manicured like nobody ever left. Roses bloomed along the walkway, bold and unapologetic, like they didn’t remember the chaos that once lived here.
I sat in the car longer than I should’ve, fingers wrapped tight around the steering wheel.
This house…It held too much. Too many memories. Too many versions of me I had to outgrow, and I felt all of them at once. Truth be told, I never planned on stepping foot back here again.
The plan was simple—Chauncey wakes up, and I’m on the first flight back to Dallas. Instead, I sat there with the past pressing in, and that made my stomach twist. But life doesn’t care about plans.
God definitely doesn’t. So I exhale slowly, grab my phone, and dial Chauncey. He picked up on the first ring, like he’d been waiting, and I felt myself bracing for whatever came next. The call cut through the silence.
“Rhy, you good?”
I glanced at the front door, my chest tightening. “I don’t know yet… I made it home.”
A pause. Then his tone shifted—sharp, alert, and now I could hear the worry in it. It was instant.
“What’s up? You need me to have security step out?”
I let out a small laugh, shaking my head.
“No, that’s not necessary.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked, pressing harder.
My fingers hovered over the doorknob, but I couldn’t move. Fear kept me frozen, and crossing that threshold felt impossible.
“I’m scared to go in.”
Silence.
Then, suddenly, “The fuck is going on? Rhy, I’m finna have security murk something.”
That pulled a real laugh out of me. “Chauncey, chill. I’m at the house… the one we used to share.”
After a beat, his tone softened just a little.
“Why you ain’t say that?”
“I was getting there.”
“Meet me halfway, Rhy. That’s all I’m asking.”
I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. My hand finally touched the handle, and I forced myself to breathe, holding on to the steadiness in his voice.
“I am.”
“Get out of the car and go inside. I promise you—our home is safe for you. I’m leaving now. I’ll be there in thirty.”
I swallowed, staring at the door as if it might open on its own. The fear was still there, but his words gave me something firmer to hold onto, and that made the next step possible.
“Okay.”
The line went dead. Just like that, it was me and the ghosts again, standing at the threshold of the house we once called ours.
I stepped inside the house we once called ours. I had decorated this home with every fiber of my being.
The air greeted me with that familiar blend of lemons and lavender, the same hush hanging there as if time itself had been waiting. It no longer felt like home; it felt suspended, and something inside me had already shifted.
My chest tightened as I looked around, and I knew Chauncey had never really returned. I’m guessing our home reminded him of us.
Everything remained as I left it: mirrors dust-free, pillows fluffed, furniture unmoved, untouched, just lifeless. It was as if the house itself understood we hadn’t made it, and that truth struck deeper than the silence, cracking something inside me wide open.
The memories, boy, did they start rushing in—I remember the sweet ones first, gentle laughter, intimate long nights, and early mornings—then the heavier shadows, infidelity.
For a moment, I felt myself slipping, but I steadied. I would not let the past haunt me. I am moving forward. I am forgiving. I am not forgetting; I am choosing peace.
I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water, twisting the cap just to keep my hands busy before sitting down and really taking it in. God, I loved this kitchen.
I picked everything—the clean white cabinets, the cold marble floors, the granite countertops that caught the light just right, the stainless-steel appliances I swore I’d use every night, the lighting fixtures that made the whole room feel intentional, even the indoor grill.
I smiled faintly, shaking my head, because I had big plans for this place. I used to imagine a whole life here—kids running through the halls, music too loud on Sunday mornings, Chauncey finally slowing down, finally choosing us over everything else.
I thought by now we’d be past the chaos, past the streets, past the waiting, but some dreams don’t die loud—they fade, quietly and slowly, until one day you realize you’re the only one still holding on.
I took a sip of water, my throat tight. Yeah…
I loved this house. I just don’t know if it ever really loved me back.
I walked upstairs to our room, each step heavier than the last—I had forgotten how many stairs this house had. When I pushed the door open, nothing had changed. Same setup.
White comforter, white sheets, everything clean and untouched, as if time had been frozen. The faint scent of Chauncey’s cologne and fresh linen lingered in the air, wrapping around me in a way that felt too familiar.
My chest tightened.
Yeah… I couldn’t sleep in here. Not yet. It was too soon. I moved to my drawer and pulled it open, grabbing a lingerie set—still had the tags on it. I let out a small breath, running my fingers over the fabric. Hopefully I could still fit it… I had picked up a few pounds, but we’ll see.
I grabbed a toothbrush, body wash, my perfume, and body butter before stepping back out, closing the door behind me like I needed to keep that version of us contained.
I headed down the hall to one of the spare bedrooms instead. It had been a long day—too long. All I wanted was a hot shower and sleep. I wasn’t sure I could stay up to wait for Chauncey. I told myself I’d try… but I already knew my body had other plans.
I turned the shower on, letting the water heat until the bathroom filled with thick, quiet steam. Then I stepped in—and damn… I forgot how good these shower jets felt.
I needed that shower—to wash off everything that happened yesterday, to let it run down the drain without having to name it. I don’t know what tomorrow holds, but right now I’m taking it one day at a time.
When I stepped out, the mirror was fogged heavily, hiding me from myself for a second longer.
I brushed my teeth, dried off slowly, then slid into my lingerie of choice—extra pounds and all.
I took my time massaging the body butter into my skin, letting the scent settle, then added a few soft dabs of perfume.
I paused, catching a glimpse of myself through the clearing mirror… yeah, I still look good.
Still me. I climbed into the bed, already knowing I probably wouldn’t make it long before sleep took over. I didn’t expect to end up here tonight, but here I am—lying in a spare room, only a few feet away from Chauncey, even if he hasn’t made it here yet.
And that alone feels like too much and not enough at the same time.
I don’t know where we go from here. Part of me feels like he’s changed…
but another part of me is still holding onto the what-ifs.
I reached for my phone, then stopped, cutting it off completely.
I already know Kosh would try to call. I’m bold—but I’m not bold enough to have that conversation with Chauncey this close.