3.0 #2
I tuned it out, staring at the city through the crack in the curtains, smoke haze turning glass and steel into watercolor. This was my rule: don't listen when he talked business. Don't ask. Don't know.
"When is it?" he asked into the phone, still rubbing circles on my leg like nothing in the world had changed. A pause, then: "I should be free then. I don't got nothing in mind for next month."
He hung up without a goodbye, tossing the phone back on the nightstand. "Cousin," he muttered, pulling again from the blunt like it didn't matter. "His people always got something going on. They just be doing shit".
I didn't ask. I never did.
He flicked ash into the tray and leaned back, arm heavy around my waist again. "You quiet all of a sudden."
"I'm always quiet." I took another pull, let the smoke drift out slow. "You just like hearing yourself more than you like noticing."
That earned a grin, sharp and easy. "You got jokes this morning."
"Afternoon," I corrected, nudging him with my shoulder. "You sleep half the day away."
"'Cause my nights be busy." He dragged his palm over my thigh again, lingering like he wanted to prove the point. "You know that better than anybody."
I rolled my eyes, but my mouth tugged anyway. "You swear."
"Don't act like you don't love it." He shifted closer, brushing his lips against the side of my neck. "Matter fact, I know you do."
I held the blunt just out of reach, smirking. "You sound real confident for somebody I only text back when I feel like it."
His hand tightened just enough to remind me he didn't like the truth dressed too sharp. "Keep playing."
"Relax." I passed him the blunt, leaning off his chest. "I should head out anyway. Gotta run a few errands before I pick up Alina."
He exhaled smoke toward the ceiling, eyes cutting to me. "Always running."
"Always busy," I corrected, sliding off the bed to grab my joggers.
His gaze followed me, slow, steady, but he didn't move to stop me. Just said, almost too casual, "Text me later."
I tied my hair back, catching my own reflection in the dark glass of the window. "Maybe."
That made him grin again, like he'd won something even when he hadn't. "You always do."
I slipped my sneakers back on, purse slung over my shoulder, and headed for the door before he could say anything else worth remembering.
The elevator hummed low as it dropped me back to the lobby. My reflection in the brushed steel doors looked softer than I felt-hair mussed, lip gloss smudged, sweatshirt hanging crooked off one shoulder. I looked like somebody's girl, but I wasn't.
Outside, the air felt different. Cleaner. Louder. The city moved on without Kian's walls muting it, SEPTA growling by, kids spilling out of a corner store, somebody cursing into their phone. It grounded me in a way his condo never did.
That place wasn't mine. Neither was he.
I told myself I liked it that way-liked the separation.
My real life was Alina's unicorn blanket, the smell of food steaming on the stove, the constant hum of clients booking me out weeks in advance.
Kian's world didn't bleed into mine, and I made damn sure mine didn't bleed into his. It was survival.
Still, I felt the weight of his eyes on my back long after the lobby doors shut behind me.
Now, it was just me and the glow of my phone.
Tati's face filled the screen, ring light bouncing off her cheekbones like she'd been born with it. "Bitch," she said immediately, squinting at me. "You've been with that man."
I groaned, dropping onto my couch. "Do not start."
"I'm not starting. I'm just observing." She leaned closer to her camera, smirking. "Amira, you can't lie to me. I know that post-Kian look."
I rolled my eyes, tugging my curls into a messy bun. "It's not like that."
"It's always like that," she shot back, sing-song, before turning her phone to show a cluster of flower arrangements on her dining table. "Anyway. Look what just came. Sample centerpieces."
Her voice was light, bubbling with excitement in a way that made me smile despite myself. "They're beautiful."
"They're expensive as hell," she admitted, laughing. "But Seth said yes before I even finished showing him the invoice, so who am I to argue?"
I let her ramble about guest lists and dress fittings, her joy filling up the spaces my day had left hollow.
Until she paused, phone tilted. "Oh-did you see this?" She flipped her camera toward her TV, where a news anchor's face glowed beneath a chyron about campaign fundraising in Pennsylvania.
I froze. My stomach clenched the way it always did when politics bled into my feed.
"Nope," I said quickly, voice sharper than I meant. "Turn it off."
"Girl, it's just the news-"
"I don't care. Just-don't." I exhaled hard, forcing my shoulders to relax. "You know I don't...watch all that."
And it was true. As bad as it sounded, the news had become something I avoided like smoke in a room.
Anything political pressed on an old bruise I never let heal.
Trauma in high definition. I couldn't sit through anchors debating the futures of men like Brooks while pretending women like me didn't exist.
So I didn't watch. I let the Shade Room and group chats filter it down to the pieces I couldn't ignore. It was easier that way.
Tati must've seen the look on my face because she clicked her tongue, flipped the camera back. "Fine, fine. No news. Just me. And my damn flowers."
"Thank you," I murmured, letting my head fall back against the couch.
Her smile softened. "How you been sweet pea?"
I nodded. "I've been good."
Tati leaned into her camera, eyes narrowing. "I'm not gonna beat around the bush because i'm dying to know, what's the deal with you and Kian? Don't give me that little shrug, Mira. I'm your best friend, not your client."
I groaned, sinking deeper into the couch cushions. "There's no deal. We kick it sometimes, that's it."
She gave me a look that could cut through steel. "Sometimes?"
"Kian...he's easy. He doesn't expect anything from me except what I choose to give. And right now, that's all I have to offer."
Her expression softened, but only a little. "Do you think that's something you really want?"
I fiddled with the edge of the throw blanket in my lap, twisting the fringe around my finger. "I'm okay with not complicating my life. That's different."
Tati tilted her head, her earrings catching the light. "Promise you're not just scared of letting somebody in again?"
The question landed harder than I wanted it to. I didn't answer right away, just looked at the muted TV in the corner where the news ticker scrolled. My chest tightened. I couldn't read the words, didn't want to.
"I'm not scared," I lied eventually, voice low. "I just know what matters now. Alina. My work. Myself."
For once, Tati didn't push. She just studied me, then nodded. "Okay. As long as you're being real with yourself."
I gave her a faint smile. "Always."
She shifted gears then, thank God, flipping her camera back to the table. "Anyway, tell me which color you like better for invitations. The cream or the off-white and don't say they look the same. Seth and I already had that debate."
I laughed, relief bubbling up with it. "Girl, the cream. It's pretty with the gold."
Tati adjusted her phone so I could see the mock-up of the centerpiece again, this time with her ring catching the light as she pointed. "Seth popped the question a year ago already and now we're only a few months out. Can you believe it?"
Her voice softened on his name, like she still couldn't believe it herself.
I smiled, letting it sink in. "I can believe it. He's been about you since the start."
"Yeah," she admitted, cheeks pinking even through the pixelated screen. "Sometimes I still feel like I'm dreaming. Miles is excited too-he keeps telling people at school his mommy's getting married."
The sound of her laughter filled my living room, warm and steady.
I leaned my chin into my palm, smiling because it was impossible not to. "I'm happy for you, Tati. For real. You deserve it all."
Her expression softened, eyes glassy for half a second before she brushed it off. "It's so crazy to think how far we've come."
We lingered for a few more minutes, drifting from flower colors to playlists, before she finally yawned and said she needed to crash. I told her goodnight and hung up, the room slipping back into quiet.
The TV's glow lit the edges of the coffee table, muted news headlines scrolling across the bottom.
I didn't look too long. Politics still made my chest tighten, still pulled me back to nights I'd rather forget.
So I scrolled past it, thumb flicking quick, letting gossip blogs and memes drown it out instead.
The house was still. Alina's breathing carried soft through the baby monitor I still kept out of habit, steady and unbothered.
I sat there for a long while, phone facedown now, wine glass sweating on the coaster. The quiet wrapped around me-not heavy, not lonely. Just mine.
For the first time all day, I let myself exhale.