8. Detroit Hearts, New York State of Mind #3
The phone kept ringing. Kira glanced over at her friend, who was still curled up on the couch, breathing slow and steady, completely knocked out.
She hesitated. Maybe it’s her mom, she thought.
Maybe something happened with her child.
The phone rang again. And again. Each ring seemed louder than the last in the silent apartment.
Concern finally pushed Kira to move. She walked over and picked up Jazz’s phone from the coffee table, intending to at least see who was calling before deciding whether she should wake her.
But the moment the screen lit up, Kira froze.
Her stomach tightened instantly. Chill. His name flashed across the screen.
The call stopped. Then another notification appeared.
Missed call. Another one. Before she could even process it, the phone started ringing again.
Kira stared at the screen, her eyebrows slowly pulling together as her mind began racing.
Why would Chill be calling Jazz? At three o’clock in the morning?
Her eyes flicked toward Jazz again. For a moment, Kira considered waking her up right then and there.
But something about the situation made her pause.
Her grip on the phone tightened slightly as she stared down at the glowing screen.
Because whatever this was, felt like some hoe shit.
Kira stood there for a long moment, the phone still in her hand as her mind raced.
Her thoughts drifted to her friendship with Jazz.
Her best friend. The one who had always been there for her.
The one who had always had her back the same way Kira had hers.
She tried to make sense of it. Tried to understand.
But nothing about it made sense. Still, she refused to jump to conclusions.
She refused to let her mind run ahead of the truth.
Jazz deserved the benefit of the doubt. That’s what real friends do.
They don’t assume. Kira closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, holding the breath in her chest before slowly letting it go.
But even as she tried to steady herself, she could feel the tears beginning to gather in her eyes.
Not because of Chill. She didn’t give a fuck about him anymore.
But because of Jazz. Because of what they had built over the years.
YKira had reached a point in her life where she could no longer carry the weight of betrayal.
It cut too deep. It always had. And the worst part was it never came from strangers.
It came from the people closest to you. The people you loved the most. Her chest tightened as she stared down at the glowing phone screen.
Why, God? Why does it have to be like this?
Every time I start to feel peace… every time I start to feel joy…
it’s like something comes along and snatches it away.
Her lips pressed together as the tears finally slid down her cheeks.
The devil really does come to kill, steal, and destroy, she thought quietly to herself.
She felt it rising in her chest, hot and reckless, that old version of her begging to be let loose.
But instead of feeding it, she swallowed it down.
The best thing she could do was go to her room and pray, because crashing out might have felt good for a moment, but it wouldn’t fix anything.
It never did. With slow, deliberate control, she placed the phone back beside Jazz exactly where she had found it.
Most people would have snapped, lost all sense, maybe even used it as a weapon.
And she knew that version of herself too well.
She had been her. Still was, in some quiet, dangerous corner of her soul.
She turned away before temptation could speak louder than discipline, closing her door behind her like she was shutting out a war.
The moment it clicked, her composure cracked just enough for the weight of it all to hit.
She dropped to her knees, not gracefully, but like something in her had finally given out.
Hands trembling, heart pounding, she bowed her head.
It wasn’t just a prayer. It was a plea, for strength, for restraint, for the version of herself she was still fighting to become.
Father, God
You see everything I don’t. You know the truth before it ever reaches me, and right now my heart is heavy with questions I’m scared to have answered.
If Jazz has betrayed me… if she crossed a line with someone who once had my heart…
God, I won’t lie to you. I’m hurt. I’m angry.
I feel disrespected, confused, and small all at the same time.
But I don’t want to respond from that place.
Give me grace, Lord… not because it’s easy, but because it’s right.
Help me to pause before I speak. Help me to breathe before I react.
Help me to see clearly instead of assuming the worst, but also give me the strength to face the truth if it is what I fear.
If she did betray me, teach me how to forgive without losing myself.
Teach me how to walk away if I need to, without bitterness taking root in my heart.
Teach me that grace doesn’t mean accepting disrespect, but it does mean releasing the need for revenge.
And God, if I’m wrong… if my mind is creating something that isn’t there, then quiet the storm inside of me.
Replace suspicion with peace. Replace fear with clarity.
Either way, Lord, guard my heart. Don’t let pain turn me back into someone I worked so hard to outgrow.
I trust You to handle what I can’t. I trust You to reveal what’s hidden.
And I trust You to carry me through whatever truth comes next.
In Jesus’ name, amen