Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
CHAUNCEY
The room is too damn quiet now. Monitors beep. Machines hum. Rhy knows I’m going to hurt her—ain’t no way around it. She’s been disrespecting me since she touched down in my city, and on God, I’mma show her it’s one thing to fuck a nigga, but to bring him here and flaunt him?
Nah.
We ain’t doing that.
Simmy came just in time because right now I feel like she’s fucking playing with me, like she thinks I’m weak because I’m laid up. I knew she was fucking somebody—I just wanted her to admit it.
But if she thinks she can come in here, shake up my world, and dip like it’s nothing? She’s sadly mistaken. I bet she won’t leave this fucking city. That raggedy bitch I called to be spiteful is still crying in the corner, clutching her purse like I’m about to snap on her next.
I don’t even look her way—I can’t. Because the only thing I see is Rhy. Standing in that doorway, spitting venom, looking me dead in the eye when she says his name.
Kosh.
That shit tastes sour just thinking about it. And the worst part? She meant every fucking word. I grip the edge of the bed so hard my knuckles crack, veins bulging, chest heaving like I just ran miles.
“Mr. Benyeir, you need to calm down—” one of the nurses begins.
“GET THE FUCK OUT!” I roar, my voice shaking the walls. She flinches and rushes out, tears in her eyes. Good. I don’t need witnesses to how fucking broken I feel. I slam my fist into the mattress—once, twice, again—because if I hit the wall, I’ll rip my stitches clean open.
“She really fucking did it…” I mumble, forcing myself to pace even though my body ain’t ready. “She really went and fucked another nigga.”
And every time I think of it, another memory hits me—late nights talking until sunrise, mornings when she kissed my chest before I stepped out into war, the way she used to look at me like I was her whole fucking world. And now… she’s looking at him like that.
I laugh—bitter and empty. “Ain’t this some shit…” I called a hoe to make her jealous.
Petty.
Childish.
But I never planned on touching her. Hell, I didn’t even wanna look at her. I just wanted Rhy to walk back in and fight for me—to lose her shit over me the way I’ve been losing mine over her.
Instead… she burned this whole fucking room down.
And maybe I deserved it.
Maybe this is karma for every night I made her feel small, every lie I told, and every time I chose the streets over her heart. But knowing I deserve it doesn’t make it hurt any less.
It kills me. Deep down, beneath all the pride, anger, and chaos…I still love that woman more than I love breathing. And I hate that I might’ve just lost her for good.
“Fuck,” I whisper, slamming my palm against the wall.
“FUCK!”
The sound echoes. My chest burns. My heart feels as if it’s trying to claw its way out.
I know she’s leaving. That look in her eyes? That wasn’t rage. That was finality.
She’s gone. And the next time I see her… she might be smiling in another nigga’s arms, and that’s when I kill that nigga. I drag both hands down my face, shaking my head like I can shake the thought away.
“Simmy…” I mutter to the empty room. “Find her.”
Because I swear to God… I’m not letting this end like that. Not without a fight.
The door swings open hard enough to smack the wall.
“Yo, what the fuck happened in here?” Simmy’s voice booms first, eyes scanning the damage.
Coop whistles low, shaking his head. “Damn… she laid hands on shawty and everything.”
True steps in last, eyes narrowing. “Ain’t no way all this happened in thirty minutes.”
“Shut the fuck up, True,” I growl, pacing like a caged animal. My stitches burn. My chest’s on fire. I don’t even care. The raggedy hoe is still sniffling by the wall, shoes in her hand, mascara running like a bad painting. “Chauncey, I?—”
“Get the fuck out, hoe.”
I don’t yell. I don’t need to.
My voice alone freezes her.
“W-what?”
“I said GET. OUT.” I turn on her, eyes burning. “I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to hear you. I don’t even want your name floating in this fucking room. Leave.” She scrambles out so fast she damn near trips over her heels.
“Damn, Chauncey,” True mutters.
“Shut up, True,” Simmy and Coop snap in unison.
Simmy steps forward, eyes locked on me. “You wanna tell me why the hell Rhy is threatening to kill you and have Baptiste bag your fucking body?”
I let out a hollow laugh. “Because she’s dramatic as fuck.”
“Or,” Coop says, arms crossing, “because your dumb ass called a side bitch to the hospital ten minutes after she walked out. You know better, nigga.”
“She walked out on me!” I snap, pointing at the door. “She said she has been fucking Kosh! Three days, nigga! THREE!”
Simmy exhales slowly, patience hanging by a thread.
“And what did you expect? She has been gone for a year. A year. You thought she was gonna sit in Dallas, waiting for your call?”
“She was supposed to!” I slam my fist against the bed. “She was supposed to know she’s mine!”
“See, that’s your problem,” True cuts in, voice colder now. “You think she’s property. She’s not. She’s a woman who’s been bleeding for you while you’ve treated her like she was replaceable.”
I glare at him. “Whose side are you fucking on?”
“I’m on yours,” he shoots back. “But I’mma tell you the truth. You fucked this up. And if you don’t fix it now… she’s gone for good.”
Silence.
Heavy. Suffocating. Real.
Simmy steps closer, voice softer. “Look… she’s pissed. She’s hurt. But she’s still here. That means somewhere in her, she still gives a fuck. Don’t let this be the last version of you she remembers.”
My jaw tightens.
My chest rises.
My mind is already moving.
“Don’t let her leave this fucking city.”
I drag a hand down my face, my chest heaving. “She said she’s leaving. Going back to Texas.”
“Then you’d better get your ass up and do something before she does,” Coop says, voice low but urgent.
“Because once she’s on that plane, you’re gonna be screaming into a void.”
“Don’t let her leave this fucking city,” I repeat, slower this time. “Under any fucking circumstances.”
I lean back against the bed, my head pounding. For the first time since waking up… I feel small. Not like the boss-ass nigga who runs the city. Not like the name the streets whisper. Just a nigga who fucked up the best thing that ever happened to him.
Simmy pulls out his phone, already moving.
“She’s still in the building. I’mma talk to her before she disappears.”
“Tell her…” I start—then stop.
My throat locks.
“Tell her what?” Simmy presses.
I swallow hard, my voice breaking anyway.
“Tell her I ain’t ready to lose her.”
Damn, I had to catch a beat.
“Not yet.”
Simmy nods once—solid, understanding—then jerks his head toward Coop and True.
“Let’s move.”
The door shuts behind them.
And just like that… the room feels colder.
Lonelier.
Too damn quiet.
I stare at the ceiling, my heart thudding slow and heavy, one thought looping as if it won’t let me breathe: If she walks out that door for real this time… I might never get her back.