Chapter Thirty-Four One Last Conversation
“You don’t live in my heart no more.”
Sunni did not call Marcus because of Derrick. She did not call him the next day, either.
Weeks passed. She prayed. Journaled. Took the kids to school. Went to work. Laughed with Derrick without making promises. And every time Marcus crossed her mind, she asked herself the same question: What do I still need from him?
The answer finally came: facts. Not permission. Not an apology. Facts—and then a boundary.
She just wanted peace—the kind that only came when you closed the chapter yourself.
So she picked up the phone, found his number still saved under M., and pressed call.
He answered on the third ring.
“Hello?”
“It’s Sunni.”
A pause.
Then a quiet, “Hey.”
“I’d like to sit down and talk,” she said. “Just me and you. No kids. No Keisha. No noise.”
Marcus cleared his throat. “Yeah. Okay. Name the time.”
They met at a small park in Cordova. Neutral ground. Open air. Two cups of coffee between them and a stretch of silence longer than either expected.
Sunni looked… composed. Black slacks, a crisp white blouse, her curls pulled back into a neat bun. She didn’t look like a woman unraveling.
She looked like a woman done bleeding.
Marcus wore that same familiar jacket. But it didn’t fit the same.
“I’ve been thinkin’ about how to say all this,” Sunni began. “But the truth is… it’s not for you. It’s for me.”
He nodded slowly.
“You hurt me, Marcus,” she said, voice calm but cutting. “You didn’t just walk out on me—you let me believe you were dead. You let our babies mourn you. You let me bury you with my bare hands while you played husband somewhere else.”
Sunni let the silence sit between them before she spoke again. “Before I close this door, I need one thing. Tell me exactly how you did it. No excuses. No pretty version.”
Marcus stared at the coffee in his hands. “I was scared. The security work had me around people I should’ve never dealt with, and I owed money. But fear ain’t enough of an excuse. I wanted out, and instead of changing my life like a man, I erased y’all from it.”
“I left the SUV on a service road with my wallet and ring inside. A friend helped burn it. The blood was mine. There was never a body, and I knew that if I stayed gone long enough, everybody would believe the worst.”
Sunni’s jaw tightened. “And Keisha?”
“I had already lied to Keisha and told her our marriage was over,” Marcus said. “After I disappeared, I told her you died. She didn’t know about the kids. I kept both of you in the dark because the truth would’ve cost me both lives.”
Sunni let that sit. She had imagined this answer a hundred ways. None of them gave her back a single night her children cried for him.
Marcus looked down. “I’m sorry.”
“I know exactly what I’m burying now,” Sunni said. “That’s all I needed.”
Marcus opened his mouth.
She held up a hand. “Don’t.”
He closed it.
“I called you here to say this: I don’t love you anymore. Not like that. I don’t wait on your explanation. I don’t dream about who we were. I’m not stuck.”
She took a breath.
“You don’t live in my heart no more.”
Marcus looked away.
“I kept your last name because my kids wear it,” Sunni continued. “That’s it. When they’re grown, I’ll take my own back. I already have in spirit.”
He nodded, swallowing hard. “I get that.”
Sunni looked at him—not with hate, but with something heavier: release.
“You still their father,” she said. “That don’t change. But you no longer have a place in my life. Not my home. Not my plans. Not my prayers.”
He looked up at her, eyes glassy.
“You really done?”
She stood, gathering her purse.
“I was done the day you died,” she said. “This is just the burial.”
And with that, Sunni walked away.
No drama.
No yelling.
Just peace.
Real, earned, holy peace.