Adrienne
If Hood thinks he can dismiss me after I stood beside him for seven fucking years... he’s got his life fucked up. Yesterday, when I gave him that ultimatum, I wasn’t expecting him to choose the fucking door.
Truth be told... I was testing him to see where his head was. I figured he’d tell me what I wanted to hear because it was his first day out. I didn’t expect him to be so blunt.
Instead... Hood let me walk away. That shit wasn’t supposed to happen. Yes, I’ve dealt with a few niggas while Hood was locked up. But before I could even decide how mad I wanted to be, my phone lit up with screenshots from everybody’s stories.
Hood was home, smiling in places I wasn’t invited, and every repost felt like someone pressing a thumb into a bruise I was trying to hide.
So what? Hood had plenty of hoes, too. The difference is... I never expected Hood to choose one of them over me. I was supposed to be the one standing here when the smoke cleared—the one he came home to, the one who finally got her turn. I wanted what Fumi had.
Seven years... That’s a long time to invest in someone. Seven birthdays. Seven holidays. Seven years of prison visits, phone calls, money on his books, and the belief that one day we’d finally get our chance.
I earned that.
Didn’t I?
Hood always took care of me. One thing I can never say is that he left me struggling. Hood made sure all my bills were paid, that I was comfortable, and that I never wanted for much. The other niggas I’ve entertained over the years... helped here and there.
Bought me things.
Sent money now and then. But none of them loved taking care of me the way Hood did. The money mattered. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t. But that wasn’t the only thing I was walking away from. I was walking away from seven years spent believing I’d become his main bitch.
No, I wasn’t ready to let that go.
Not yet.
I don’t even know what the fuck I was thinking. Truth be told, I got caught up in the moment. That phone wasn’t a gift. It was insurance. I wanted to know where Hood was.
Who was he with?
What was he doing?
After seven years of waiting, I wasn’t about to let that nigga disappear on me. Instead... he handed the phone right back.
That shit hurt.
Not because I wanted to track him, but because he made it clear he didn’t want me to have access to him. The part that keeps replaying in my head isn’t even our breakup.
It’s how easy he made it look. Hood didn’t fight for us. Not once. Not even a little. That’s what hurts the most. I could’ve been everything that nigga needed: loyal, faithful, a damn good girlfriend. But I’ll be damned if I’m anybody’s side bitch.
Not anymore.
I still don’t even know where he spent last night. I called his momma this morning to figure out where his head was. Ms. Terry played it cool. Either she really didn’t know... or she wasn’t about to tell me. I couldn’t even be mad at her.
Then there was Fumi. I smiled to myself. That scary little bitch tried to dismiss me as if she didn’t know exactly why I walked into that salon.
She knew. Hell, we both knew. She just wasn’t about to give me the satisfaction of a reaction.
Cute. Real cute. But this shit between Hood and me... It ain’t over yet. I got a feeling Hood was with somebody last night. I know he was; I bet it was Fumi. The thought alone made my stomach turn.
Then one of Charadee’s texts came through with a blurry picture from the club—Fumi laughing near the bar while two different niggas found ways to stand too close.
My chest tightened before I could stop it, because it wasn’t just Hood choosing her; the whole city acted as if I’d already been replaced.
Damn... I wish I could take yesterday back. I should’ve kept my fucking mouth shut.
What made it worse was how quiet my phone stayed after that. Hood wasn’t calling me, wasn’t checking on me, and wasn’t explaining anything to me. Every minute of silence made me feel smaller, as if seven years could disappear without him even looking back.
I didn’t enjoy the ride. I’ve been trying to pretend everything was okay for one more day. Hell... We didn’t even get to fuck. Now look at me, sitting here, replaying every word I said.
If I had just played my position, I probably could’ve run every one of his hoes off, one by one. Instead... I played the only card I had and lost. Now I’m on the outside looking in. That’s a hard pill to swallow.
One thing about Hood is he’s not about to hide shit. He won’t have a problem letting everybody know we ain’t dealing with each other no more. By the end of the week, the whole city will probably know.
I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the couch. Seven years, gone in one fucking car ride. Maybe I pushed too hard. Maybe I asked for too much.
Or maybe... I was asking the wrong nigga. That thought hurt the most.