3. A Beautiful Collision #3
“I know what’s going on,” Jazz said. “It must be that guy.” Kira didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. The smile on her face said everything.
“Oh, I see,” Jazz said softly. “I haven’t seen you this happy in months. You must really be feeling him because you don’t give nobody the time of day.”
“He’s different,” Kira said. “He’s special. I can talk to him for hours and he just gets me, he understands me, you know?”
“All these niggas put on Oscar award-winning performances in the beginning,” Jazz said, her voice tight, like she was holding something back.
“They love-bomb you… tell you everything you want to hear. Get you nice and stuck on their dumb asses… and you don’t even realize it’s happening until it’s too late.
” Her jaw clenched, eyes hard but glossed over with something softer underneath.
“Then that’s when the manipulation starts. The control. Like you owe them something just because they showed you a little attention.” She let out a bitter laugh. “They don’t tell you they got a wife… a girlfriend… and five baby mamas already.” Her voice cracked slightly, but she kept going anyway.
“And now you sitting there, trying to pick up the pieces of your heart… trying to figure out how you let it get this far. All because you wanted to believe them. You wanted it to be real this time.” She shook her head, swallowing hard.
“Then it hit you… you got played. Fucked over. And all you can think about is how much time you wasted… how much of yourself you gave to somebody who was never real to begin with the fuck. And the worst part?” she added softly.
“You don’t even know if you’ll ever be able to trust yourself again after that.
I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be negative.
I just want you to be careful. But hopefully, he’s everything you think he is.
” Jazz went quiet as her baby’s cry filled the background.
“Hold up a second, Kira.” She stepped away to get her two-year-old daughter.
“I’m back. My baby got a fever.” She sighed, the weight in it heavy.
“It’s always something. I have to do everything myself, with no help.
I try to numb my pain with alcohol just to get through the day.
Then I look at you, so vibrant, happy, and free, and I wish I had that.
Instead, I feel stuck. Overwhelmed with anxiety and depression. I just can’t catch a break.”
Kira’s smile faded, replaced with something gentler, something real. Jazz’s words settled in her chest, reminding her how close happiness and heartbreak could sit beside each other.
“Jazz,” she said softly, “come out here. Come visit me. I could really use the company, and you could use a vacation.”
“I want to, I promise you I do. I just be having so much going on. Sometimes I feel like if I don’t keep going, everything will fall apart.
I can’t depend on anyone to keep my child.
I do this shit alone. I can’t afford to miss a day at work.
Even with my PTO, I try to save that for emergencies.
Something always going on,” Jazz said, keeping it real.
“I understand. We will figure it out. I hate that you feel trapped. I wouldn’t want that for you. My prayers will be for you tonight. I want you to be happy too, not just someone watching on the sidelines.”
“I know. That’s why you my bestie, my sister, my everything. You are one of my motivations to keep going when my heart is tired. And no matter what you’re going through, Kira, you always hold space for me, and I love you for that.”
“Awww. I love you more, Jazz. Goodnight.”
Kira sighed after ending the call. The room felt quieter now, the candles still flickering against the walls, the scent of roses lingering in the air.
For a moment, happiness and heaviness sat side by side and she realized how fragile both could be.
Before she got too comfortable and closed her eyes before bed, she kept her words.
Dear God,
I lift Jazz up to You tonight. You see her in ways no one else can. You see the exhaustion she hides, the strength she carries, and the silent tears she wipes away when nobody is watching.
Father, remind her of her worth. Not the worth attached to struggle. Not the worth tied to what she can endure. But the worth she was born with. The kind that doesn’t have to earn love or beg for it. Help her step out of survival mode and into safety. Into peace. Into provision. Into rest.
Send her a love that is steady. A man who leads with integrity, who protects her heart, who shows up consistently, and who loves her child as an extension of loving her.
A man who doesn’t confuse chaos with passion.
Heal the parts of her that believe she has to do everything alone.
Remove the weight of self-blame. Break the cycle of numbing pain just to make it through the day.
Replace her anxiety with clarity. Replace her depression with hope.
Replace her fear with faith. Remind her that she is not stuck, she is becoming.
And if she can’t see her value right now, let her see it through the people who love her.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.