Obligated

Chiana

Spring was starting to roll around, The late afternoon sun was low, casting that warm golden hue across the park. The sound of kids laughing, sneakers hitting pavement, and the steady creak of the swings filled the air. I stood behind Jezel, her tiny braids bouncing with each push I gave, her laughter nonstop. "Push me higher, Auntie Chi! I wanna fly!"

she squealed, kicking her pink and white sneakers toward the clouds like she had wings tucked in her back pocket. "You better hold on tight, baby girl,"

I laughed, giving her a gentle push that made her giggle harder.

The boys were off fishing with Jules. Jezel had been with me, Amina, and her mama all day—us girls doing what we do best: shopping, snacking, and spilling just enough tea to make each other laugh 'til we snorted. We'd taken the Jezel out for pasta, her favorite, after and now ended up here, letting her burn off some of her energy.

Amina sat on the nearby bench, scrolling her phone with her legs crossed, sunglasses perched on her nose like she was duckin' paparazzi. She looked too damn good for the playground in her olive green romper and designer slides, but that was Amina—fly at all times. "You see Pierre tried to FaceTime me twice while we was in that pasta spot?"

she said without lookin' up. "I ain't answer. I already told him I was busy."

I gave Jezel another push, glancing over my shoulder. "What he want now? Ain't y'all good?"

Amina finally looked up, slid her shades down. "Girl, he talkin' 'bout me needin' to slow down on all this travelin'. He tired of me flyin' everywhere and bein' gone all week."

I smirked. "Pierre actin' like he met you in a Sunday school pew. You was a flight attendant when he found you."

"Exactly!"

Amina threw up her hands. "Now all of a sudden he wanna be my damn schedule manager."

"Let me find out Pierre tryna nest," I teased.

"Let me find out I'm still young, fine, and free,"

Amina shot back, but the way she said it—soft, hesitant—made me pause. There was a little truth under that. She cared. She was just scared to admit it. "Y'all gon' figure it out,"

I said, just as Jezel jumped off the swing and ran toward the jungle gym.

As Jezel ran off, her little legs pumping full of joy, I let myself breathe. It had been a good day. A soft day. And I hadn't had many of those lately. Not since the accident. Not since that night on the road when I thought I might've taken my last breath in Juste's arms. But the weeks that followed... they surprised me. We'd been trying. No—he'd been trying. And I noticed it.

Like the time he came home damn near three in the morning, thinking I was sleep. I wasn't. I heard the front door creak, the beep of the alarm system, and his heavy footsteps dragging across the hardwood. He didn't head straight to the bedroom. Nah. He went to the bathroom, took a long-ass shower, then climbed into bed and pulled me so close I could barely breathe. He whispered somethin' I ain't never forget. "Sometimes I think if you ain't make it that night, I fear the man I would've became. Hurricane Katrina wasn't shit compared to what I was prepared to do."

He said it so quiet, I wasn't even sure I was supposed to hear it. But I did. And I damn sure felt it. Felt how his hands shook when he kissed the back of my neck. Felt how his breath caught in his throat like the grief was still choking him. And I think in that moment... that's when I really forgave him. For the distance. For the way he'd gone cold right after. For not showing up the way I needed him to when I came home wrapped in bandages and silence. He was scared. And Juste St. Jean didn't scare.

That's what made the last couple weeks feel different. He started coming home more. Started going on more dates at random. Even let me keep that ugly-ass plant I knew he hated in the kitchen window. We laughed more. Touched more. Slept wrapped up in each other like we were tryna heal in the same skin. So yeah, we still had shit to figure out. And I wasn't dumb—I knew the Maseon situation was still eatin' him alive. But for the first time in a while... I didn't feel like I was alone.

I glanced over and caught Nia just... sitting there. Elbows on her knees, fingers laced, eyes stuck on nothing. Zoned out like the world was spinning and she was tryin' to catch up. It wasn't like her. Nia was always the loud one, the quick-witted one, ready with a joke or a side-eye and a curse word if needed. But today? She was in her own little world, and it made me frown. "You good?"

I asked, turning my full attention to Nia. "You real quiet today. What's up wit' you?"

Amina looked up from her phone, eyes covered in Gucci frames, but her brows furrowed over the top. "I peeped that too. What's up?"

Nia exhaled hard. Like the weight of her whole damn life was tryna crawl up out her chest. She pushed her sunglasses on top of her head, eyes glossy but stubborn. "I fucked up, y'all,"

she muttered. Me and Amina exchanged a glance. Not judgment, not shock—just that silent homegirl code that meant: whatever it is, we ridin'.

"Talk to us,"

I said, tone low, steady. "What happened?"

She looked around the park like she was makin' sure nobody was in earshot. Jezel was off runnin' with two little girls she'd made fast friends with. Amina sat up straighter, her attention all on Nia now. "It's Nash,"

she finally said. "I been... still messin' with him."

I'd figured. The way her phone would light up with no name saved. The way she'd smile at a text when she thought nobody was looking. "But that ain't it,"

Nia added, her voice softer now. "Jules... we slipped too."

"Damn,"

Amina breathed. I stayed quiet. Not from shock, but because I knew that kinda confusion. When your heart got history with one man, but your peace showed up in another. When your body remembered what felt like home, even if your mind was screamin' run. Nia buried her face in her hands. "I feel like a fuckin' idiot."

"You not,"

I said gently. "You human, Nia."

"Yeah,"

Amina added. "Messy. But human."

We all chuckled a little at that. "You know you gotta make a choice though,"

I said, leaning in just enough for her to feel the weight behind my words. "You keep going back and forth like this, you gon' lose both of them. Or worse—lose yourself in the middle."

Nia let out a long breath, like she'd been holding that pressure in her lungs all day. She threw her head back, eyes closed beneath the warm sun, the wind gently lifting the curls from her edges.

"Yeah... I know,"

she murmured, voice low. "At the end of the day, leaving my marriage ain't really an option. We got too many kids. Too much history. Too much tied up in each other."

She paused, eyes drifting across the playground, watching Jezel climb the slide like life was simple again. A tight smile pulled at her lips—but it didn't reach her eyes. "This shit with Nash... it just kinda happened. It started off light, some flirting, some laughs. Then next thing I know, we in his car with the seats laid back and him kissing me like he tryna memorize me all over again."

Her laugh was soft, but tinged with guilt. "He be saying all the right shit. Touching me like he studied my body. Like he really see me."

"And Jules?"

I asked, even though I already knew the answer. She exhaled slow. "Jules is my husband. My kids' daddy. We been in this so long, sometimes I forget what it feel like to be wanted just for me. Not the mama in me. Not the wife. Just Nia."

Amina leaned forward now, eyes narrowed behind her designer frames. "Nash is something fun something new. different from that same old same old."

Nia bit her lip, thinking. I could see the conflict twisting in her face. "I don't even know what I need anymore,"

she admitted. "Peace? Passion? Somebody to listen? All of it? Shit... probably."

I reached out and squeezed her hand. "Then find your way back to you first. Once you do that, the rest gon' make sense."

We sat in silence for a moment—three women with different paths but the same kind of storms. Jezel's laughter drifted across the wind like a melody, grounding us back to the moment. "I just wanna be happy,"

Nia whispered like it was a secret. "You deserve to be,"

Amina said. "We all do."

All of our phones buzzed at once, vibrating loud enough on the park bench to break up the moment of silence like an alarm. Amina glanced down at hers first. "Now what in the group chat is this?"

she muttered, squinting behind her sunglasses. I pulled mine out too, my brows lifting the second I saw who it was from. "Wait... is this from Ms. Evie?"

I asked, damn near in disbelief. Her name glowing on my screen was already a plot twist.

Nia leaned over to peek. "With all three of us in the same thread? Oh, she messy today."

It was a message from her, plain and unexpected:

Ms. Evie:

"I really wanna show y'all girls to a good dinner, for holding down my boys the way y'all do. Drop Jezel off to Jules and meet me at the house."

I blinked. "Y'all... Evie full of shit."

"Full to the brim,"

Amina said, lips curled in a smirk. "But I ain't missin' this dinner. I need to see what the hell this really about."

"She tryna feel us out,"

Nia added, waving her hand. "Probably got some new drama she wanna stir up over appetizers."

"I'm convinced she just bored now that they got her on casino lockdown,"

I said, shaking my head but laughing. "This her version of phone time in prison."

"I ain't gon lie—we goin',"

Nia said, standing to call Jezel over. We dropped Jezel off at Jules' house and barely had time to blink before Ms. Evie was rushing us back out the door like we was on the run. "Come on now, y'all! Don't have me late for my own damn plans,"

she said, jingling her car keys like they was a weapon. The second our feet hit her porch, she was hustling us into the car, no small talk, no pleasantries, just all business.

Amina slid into the front seat, adjusting her seatbelt like she didn’t trust Evie's driving, while me and Nia climbed in the back. The car still smelled like black ice air freshener and whatever she'd been cooking earlier—probably smothered something. By the time we pulled up to the gas station, Evie was already out the car, She strutted into the store. I took a deep breath, pulling out my phone as I leaned back in the seat. "Who you calling ?"

Nia asked, scrolling her phone. "Juste,"

I murmured, unlocking the screen. "Didn't tell him where we was going."

I knew how Juste got when he didn't know my whereabouts—especially these days. I hit his name and brought the phone to my ear. It rang once, then twice before his deep voice came through the other end. "Wassup, Chi?"

he answered, voice low and thick like he was halfway handling business. "I'm in the middle of somethin'. Where you at?"

"Yo mama hit me and the girls up,"

I said. "Said she wanna take us to dinner."

There was a pause. "Ma?"

he repeated. "Evie invited y'all to dinner... willingly?"

"Yup,"

I said, watching out the window. "Yeah... that sound like a setup,"

he said, laughing. "Keep your phone on. I'ma call you later. And don't let her talk you into nun. Love you."

"Love you too."

We hung up just as Ms. Evie strutted out the gas station like she was late for a hot date. She climbed in, adjusted her mirror, and threw the car in drive like she had somewhere important to be. Except, it was too quiet. I glanced at Nia, who had this slow blink going like she was running calculations in her head. Amina leaned forward, tapping her acrylics against her thigh. "Uhh... Ms. Evie?"

Nia finally asked, lifting her sunglasses onto her head. "Where we eating at?"

Ms. Evie didn't miss a beat. "We ain't."

The car swerved slightly as she made a left—off the main road, headed straight toward the river. "Wait... the hell you mean we ain't?"

I said, squinting as we passed a big-ass billboard for Lucky Roux Riverboat Casino. Then it clicked. "Oh no. Uh uh. Ms. Evie, are you takin' us to the damn boat?"

Amina's head whipped around. "You tryna gamble?!"

Evie sucked her teeth. "Y'all so damn loud. I just need an hour. One lil' hour on the penny slots. That's it."

"Ms. Evie you know you not supposed to be gambling! Saint gon lose it,"

I said, crossing my arms. "Saint can lose whatever the hell he want. He ain't said a damn word when I was pushin' his big-headed boys out my coochie,"

she muttered. Amina choked on air. "Ms. Evie!"

Nia gasped.

I covered my face. "I'm not getting caught up in this."

She turned around so fast. " ain't no snitchin' ass bitches in this family."

I stared at her like she had me hostage—because technically, I was. "Y'all gon eat good,"

she continued. "They got crab legs and crawfish on the buffet tonight. My player's card will cover it. All I need is an hour, a cold Sprite, and to hit on number seventeen. I feel it in my spirit."

"Your spirit needs deliverance,"

Amina mumbled, folding her arms. "Your half ass relationship needs deliverance,"

Ms. Evie shot back. Nia burst out laughing while I just leaned my head against the window. It was over. We was in it now. "You know what?"

I said with a sigh. "I hope you hit on seventeen and lose on eighteen. Just so God keep you humble.”

Ms. Evie grinned like a villain. "God favor the bold, baby."

And just like that, the car rolled into the casino parking lot.

_

An hour had turned into four and we'd spent the last hour and a half looking for Ms. Evie. We had lost her in this damn casino and couldn't find her anywhere. "Jules don called me six times, it's only a matter of time before...."

She said as my phone started ringing with Juste's name showing on the screen. I looked at both of them before answering. "Why the hell y'all in the casino man?"

He questions. I sucked in a breath. "Your damn mama kidnapped us." I said.

"Look up"

I lifted my head slow and sure enough—there he was. Striding across the floor like somebody just dared him to show out. Saint was with him too. They cut through the casino crowd, heads turning in their direction. Juste was in all black, his gold chain peeking out under his collar, jaw tight, brows low. When he reached me, he didn't say a word at first. Just pulled me into him, one hand on the small of my back, the other palming my ass.

Then he leaned back, eyes locked on mine with a smirk. "How y'all let mama manipulate y'all, man?"

he asked, the laughter sitting right there behind his voice. "She said we was goin' to dinner,"

I muttered, folding my arms. "Next thing we know, she drivin' full speed toward the boats,"

Amina added, her arms crossed and attitude full-on.

"Y'all some grown-ass women,"

Juste said, laughing now. "How the hell y'all let a sixty-two-year-old woman in orthopedic sandals run y'all?"

We didn't even get a chance to finish cracking jokes before Ms. Evie's voice cut through the casino like a switchblade.

"I said let me go, damn it!"

Heads turned as Saint came storming through the main floor, gripping Evie by the arm. Her shoes scrubbed the ground and struggled to keep up as he dragged her toward the exit like she was one of the kids that got caught stealing gum. He didn't look at any of us. Didn't say a word—just glanced once at Juste, eyes cold, mouth pressed into a line. Then he kept moving. We followed in silence, the mood shifting like someone hit the wrong light switch. The elevator ride down to the parking deck felt like it took forever, the tension thick enough to chew on. By the time we stepped outside, Saint had Evie hemmed up against the side of her Lexus like a cornered suspect. The night air wrapped around us, but the fire in his voice cut straight through it.

"I'm sick of this shit, Evie!"

he snapped, slamming his palm against the hood of the car with a loud crack. "You think this some damn game? You out here runnin' wild like you ain't got a name to carry!"

Evie stood there stunned. No slick comebacks. No rolled eyes. Just her mouth slightly open, eyes glassy like she couldn't believe Saint was talking to her like that in front of people. "You take your ass to rehab,"

he said, voice lower now, but no less dangerous. "Or I'm done. I want a divorce."

Amina's breath hitched. Nia grabbed my arm. Even I was frozen. I'd never in my life seen Saint like this—controlled, but deadly. The kind of fury that only came from years of biting your tongue for love. "Hol' on now, Pops..."

Juste finally stepped forward, trying to ease between them, one hand out like he was talking a man down from the edge. Saint snapped his head toward Juste, eyes wild. "Juste. Stay outta this."

His voice cracked slightly. "Get them girls home."

Juste didn't move at first. He just stared at his father like he was seeing a version of him he'd never met before.

"What's it gon' be, Evie?"

Saint asked, turning back to her. His voice dropped to a whisper, but that made it worse. "You keep choosin' to gamble or you choose me."

Evie swallowed hard. She looked smaller than I'd ever seen her. The gloss on her lips didn't shine no more. Her shoulders curled inward, and her mouth opened—then closed. She didn't answer. Juste turned away first. "Let's go,"

he muttered under his breath, brushing past me. His hand found mine automatically, warm and strong. He didn't look back. I glanced over my shoulder one more time before we slid into the truck. Saint still stood in front of her, staring her down like a man at the edge of a cliff waitin' on someone to pull him back—or give him a reason to jump. And Evie looked like she'd finally run out of reasons.

We all loaded into Juste's truck in silence, the weight of what happened in that parking lot still thick in the air. Nobody said much. Juste gripped the steering wheel tighter than usual, his jaw clenching every few seconds like he was holding back words—or feelings—he didn't trust himself to let out. By the time we dropped Amina off and made it over to Nia's place, things had shifted a bit. The air felt lighter in her house. Not by much, but enough to breathe again.

Jules was on the couch with his arm tossed over the back like he didn't have a care in the world. Nia rolled her eyes at him before tossing her keys in the bowl near the door. "Y'all look like y'all just came from a damn intervention,"

Jules said, half-laughing. "That's 'cause we did,"

Nia tossed back, kicking off her shoes. "Yo mama done tricked us into goin' to the casino. Said she wanted to take us to dinner."

Jules blinked. "Wait, what?"

Juste chuckled dryly as he plopped down into the recliner. "She played fuck out they ass."

"Oh, it was worse than that,"

I added, dropping down next to Nia on the couch. "We lost her for an hour and a half. Jules, we was in that casino lookin' like some damn interns on the first day of training."

Nia cracked up. "Yo mama had me out there lookin' like a damn lost child in Walmart."

Juste shook his head, dragging a hand down his face like he was physically trying to wipe the stress off. "Do Daddy know about this shit? She startin' to stress me out real bad with this gamblin' shit."

he muttered, voice heavy. "Hell yeah, Daddy know,"

he answered himself with a hollow laugh, eyes still fixed on the ceiling. "He was there. Whole situation damn near turned into a movie. Straight up told Mama she could pack it up for rehab or he want a divorce. Said he done. Done done."

The room went still. Jules sat up, jaw clenching, a slow growl of frustration rolling from his chest. "Man, he just can't go breakin' up the family like that..."

"You think he want to?"

Juste cut him a sharp look. "You think pops wanna walk away after all these years, after all the shit they been through? Nah, Ju. But this ain't just family drama no more. This shit bleed over into everything. The business. The streets. The cartel sniffin'. That casino debt she keep rackin' up? Somebody gon' collect—and it ain't gon' be with a pink slip, feel me?"

Jules leaned back again, silent, jaw still tight. Nia shifted in her seat next to him, crossing her legs and folding her arms like she was biting her tongue.

I sat there, soaking it all in. This was the side of the St. Jeans people didn't see. The side most only heard whispers about—the cracks in the crown. And I hated it for them. Hated it for Juste. I looked over at him, the way he stared blankly ahead like he was calculating next moves with every inhale. The weight of being Saint's son—of being the one everybody looked to when shit fell apart—was all over his face. You could see it in the lines digging into his forehead, the way his eyes flickered even when he was still. "This gon' shift the whole family dynamic,"

I said quietly. "If they split up... that's gon' affect everybody."

Juste nodded slowly. "I know. But it ain't no loyalty in let somebody drown they self. And mama... she been in the deep end, Chi. We been throwin' her life jackets and ropes, and she just keep swimmin' further out."

Jules let out a long sigh, rubbing his hands together. "So what we doin'? What's next?"Juste didn't answer right away. "We keep movin'. We handle the business. We keep shit runnin'. And we pray to God mama make the right choice,"

he said finally. "But we can't save nobody that ain't ready to be saved."

Nia broke the silence with a soft chuckle. "Damn, Juste. You sound like you been readin' the Bible and The 48 Laws of Power at the same time."

That pulled a laugh out of all of us. The heaviness didn't vanish, but it loosened its grip—just enough for us to breathe, to feel human for a moment. Juste leaned back, that sly smirk of his creeping across his lips as he looked between Nia and Jules like he was tryna clock the vibe. "Yeah yeah... I see you and my brother can be in the same room without eatin' each other face off. Y'all decided to work on the marriage or some?"

I blinked, side-eyeing him hard like boy, if you don't mind your damn business...

Nia paused mid-sip of her drink, giving Jules the slowest turn of the head I'd seen in a minute. Jules just sighed and looked straight ahead like he was suddenly fascinated by the fireplace. "Why you tryna be messy, Juste?"

I asked, smirking . He held both hands up, feigning innocence. "What? I'm just askin' a simple question. Peace in the house of Nia and Jules St. Jean? That's newsworthy."

"Oh, so now you Larry King with the interviews?"

Nia quipped. "We good for today. That's what you need to know."

"Mmhmm, good for today,"

Jules repeated. I glanced at Nia, and our eyes met for a split second—just long enough for her to know what I was thinking. The conversation we had earlier about her juggling Jules and Nash sat between us like unspoken smoke. She looked away quickly, avoiding the reflection in my face that mirrored her truth. Jules didn't even peep it, too caught up in his own head. And maybe that was the problem.

After another fifteen minutes of lounging, cracking a few more jokes, and letting the tension unravel just enough to breathe, we decided it was time to dip. The night had stretched itself out long and thin, and I was ready to be up under my man. We said our goodbyes sliding into the truck, the leather cold against my thighs. I buckled my seatbelt and leaned back, watching him as he adjusted the mirrors and started the engine. The low hum of the motor was the only thing filling the silence between us. "You tired?"

he asked, finally glancing over at me, his voice low. "Yeah,"

I murmured. "But I'm more drained than anything."

He didn't say anything to that—just reached over, took my hand, and kissed the back of it like he wanted to say sorry but didn't know how to form the words. I looked out the window, the city lights blurring past, thinking how complicated love could get.