2. Divinely Positioned
One week later, her boxes arrived. She watched as they were carried in one by one.
She stood with one hand on her hip and the other holding her phone to her ear, already dreading the unpacking.
She was glad she had sold most of her things, turning clutter into extra money sitting in her savings account with every intention of starting brand new.
She held the phone to her ear, trying to stay focused on what was going on.
“Kira, bitch, are you even listening to me?”
“I hear you, Jazz. You said you’re not fucking with Mal anymore and that you should’ve fucked his brother instead.
” she sighed, shaking her head. She did not judge Jazz for her lifestyle, so she chose to just listen, holding the phone to her ear as her gaze drifted, unfocused.
She didn’t want to offer advice that would go unheard or come off as criticism, even though deep down, she knew her friend deserved better.
If only Jazz knew her worth, she thought, maybe she wouldn’t keep ending up in the same cycles that kept breaking her.
But who was she to speak on wounds she was still learning how to heal herself?
The silence on her end stretched longer than usual, heavy with everything she wasn’t saying.
And lately, that silence had started to feel like distance.
Like they were no longer walking side by side, but slowly drifting, pulled by different paths, different mindsets, different versions of who they were becoming.
She exhaled softly, her grip on the phone loosening just a little.
She just wasn’t there anymore. Growth had changed her, and she was starting to understand that no matter how much you love someone, you can’t always take them with you.
Some lessons aren’t meant to be taught, they have to be lived, learned the hard way, on their own.
“Kira, it seems like your mind is somewhere else,” Jazz said, her voice softer than usual, a hint of concern slipping through.
“I just got a lot to do. Sometimes it can be overwhelming when you’re alone.
The movers are about to leave, though. I’ll call you later tonight,” she said, ending the call.
Her place fell quiet again, boxes lining the walls like witnesses.
This was the part she didn’t post about, the loneliness that came with choosing herself.
One week later, her boxes arrived. She watched as they were carried in one by one.
She stood with one hand on her hip and the other holding her phone to her ear, already dreading the unpacking.
She was glad she had sold most of her things, turning clutter into extra money sitting in her savings account with every intention of starting brand new.
Just as self-doubt began to creep in, her phone buzzed. It was Wynter.
“Hey girl, our day off. If you want, I can show you around today. It would be my pleasure.”
“That’s sweet of you, Wynter, but I really have a lot going on. I need to unpack
“That’s cool. I’ll help you. I know that shit can be a headache.” Kira froze. She hadn’t expected such generosity, at least not without something in return. Most of her relationships were transactional, and this… this felt different.
“Thanks, but I don’t really have the funds to pay.”
“Pay?” Wynter laughed. “You don’t owe me shit.
I want to. I know we haven’t known each other for long, but I can tell beautiful from the inside out.
I do understand if you don’t feel comfortable, it’s not like you know me like that.
” Kira’s chest tightened. She was overwhelmed by the simple offer, this stranger willing to step in just because.
Her walls, built so carefully over years, felt… softening.
“So… do you want me to come help? I can be on my way in like forty-five minutes.” Kira hesitated, then let out a small breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Okay,” she said finally. “I’ll text you the address.”
Wynter rang the doorbell and waited patiently for Kira to come to the door. They greeted one another with smiles and hugs.
“I stopped at Amy Ruth’s on the way here. I hope you’re hungry,” she said as she placed the bag of food on the counter. “I got you the smothered pork chops, mac and cheese, and yams.”
“It smells delicious. Let’s see what it’s hitting on,” Kira said, anxious to dig in.
As soon as she took the first bite, she knew it was certified.
After the women ate, they began to get to work, putting everything in its proper place.
Wynter loved the African décor, and from Kira’s bookshelf she could tell she was spiritual and cared deeply for her people.
The way Kira unpacked told her story, exactly who she was, without ever having to say a word.
While she waited for the movers to finish, she went to the bathroom to freshen up.
When she looked in the mirror, she barely recognized the woman staring back, drained, eyes heavy, shoulders tense.
Even though she was doing what she needed to do for her healing journey, she knew it wasn’t going to happen overnight.
It would take time, patience, and relentless faith in God and herself.
She took a deep breath and began speaking the affirmations she had been leaning on I am worthy of love.
I am strong. I am capable of starting over.
I trust myself. I am at peace with my past. Each word felt small at first, but with every repetition, she could feel the tension in her chest loosening, the tight knot in her stomach unwind.
For the first time that day, she let herself imagine a life that wasn’t defined by hurt, by chaos, by other people’s expectations.
She could see herself walking through her Harlem apartment, boxes unpacked, surrounded by the life she was building for herself, messy, imperfect, but entirely hers.
She whispered the last affirmation like a prayer: I am allowed to be happy.
And in that moment, it felt like she just might be.
“You are just full of surprises, Ms. Detroit. I’m surprised that you’re single with no kids,” she joked.
Kira let out a small laugh, but it faded just as fast. But deep down, Kira asked herself that very same question over and over again.
She shrugged, folding her arms across her chest as she leaned against the counter.
“I don’t know… sometimes I feel like nobody really wants me for real. ”
She looked away, picking at the edge of a cardboard box.
“Men just like to experience me, like I don’t have feelings.
They take what they need and don’t give nothing back.
” She paused, then straightened up, exhaling slowly.
“So, I’m learning it’s okay to sit still and just work on me. No distractions.”
Wynter shook her head, smiling. “You buggin’. You mad cool. Niggas definitely sleepin’ on you.”
“What about you?” Kira asked, glancing up from the box she was cutting open.
Wynter hesitated, shifting her weight. “I got a boo. Sometimes we’re up, sometimes we’re down, but for the most part we get through it and make it work.
She shrugged, like it was nothing. “We’ve been together since high school, so starting over in my mid-thirties is something I’m not trying to do. At least I know him.”
The words hung there for a second longer than they should have.
Wynter kept her hands busy, folding cardboard, avoiding Kira’s eyes, like if she didn’t stop moving, the truth wouldn’t catch up to her.
She said it calmly, but underneath it was something else.
Something quieter. A pain she tried to hide but exposed with every word she said.
We’ve been together since high school, so starting over in my mid-thirties is something I’m not trying to do.
At least I know him,” she said, as if she honestly knew she deserved better but was settling, hiding the fact that she was shrinking herself to make him comfortable.
We’ve been together since high school, so starting over in my mid-thirties is something I’m not trying to do.
At least I know him,” she said, as if she honestly knew she deserved better but was settling, hiding the fact that she was shrinking herself to make him comfortable.
Kira did not say anything right away. She felt it in her chest before she could name it.
She recognized her old self in Wynter, the justifying, the settling, the way she used certainty as armor.
It was like looking into a mirror that no longer existed.
And for the first time in a long time, Kira understood something clearly: she hadn’t left just a city behind.
She had left a version of herself too. One who thought surviving was enough.
One who mistook comfort for love. They were more alike than they knew, and Kira truly enjoyed her company and help.
She was grateful for the friendship they were building.
She knew that God was intentional, and her meeting Wynter wasn’t by accident, it was a blessing she didn’t know she needed.
As they finished, Kira felt a warmth in her chest, a quiet relief in sharing their life stories with someone who got it.
She could not thank her enough before Wynter headed home.
Now all she wanted was to sink into her bed, let her body relax, and rest after such an exhausting day.
By the second week, Kira was getting into the groove of things, and every morning Jazz would call her like clockwork as she got ready for work.
Jazz couldn’t help but keep her up to date with the latest tea back at home.
Most of it Kira didn’t care for, but she listened anyway just to keep their bond solid.
She didn’t quite know how to say she did not want to gossip, she was focused on herself this season, but she feared Jazz might take it as rejection, especially since these days she seemed to have nothing better to talk about.