Chapter 4 Kairo #2
I closed the bedroom door behind me and leaned against it. I ran a hand over my head and sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, staring at the floor like it could help me solve problems within my marriage.
She didn’t even realize that what she said cut me so deep.
“Chasing someone else’s dream of homeownership while our own home doesn’t feel in order.”
Damn.
That’s the kind of line that lingers. That echoes in a man’s chest while he’s trying to find a way to make his family proud of him.
I rubbed the back of my neck and looked around our room. The room I came home to every night after doing the very thing she once said made her proud of me. But now it’s like nothing I do counts unless it fits her current checklist of what love looks like.
Family. Sex. Time.
Those are the currencies she wants now. Not the money. Not the houses. Not the dreams we swore we were building together.
I used to come home and she’d be waiting to hear about my day—asking about my closings, flipping through pictures of properties with me like it was our business. She’d say, “You really sold three in a weekend? Damn, Kairo, I’m so proud of you.” She meant it, too.
But now she didn’t want to hear shit unless it started with I want to fuck and ended with I’ll just stay home with you today.
But she knew who I was when she married me.
She grew up watching her daddy provide. Did he miss a lot of things, yeah—but he also made sure that big ass house stayed paid for.
And I’m just trying to do the same. Not because I want to be like him.
But because I want her to feel safe, taken care of, and never in need.
I stayed at work because it was the only place where I felt like I was winning.
Where nobody questioned if I was good enough.
Where every ounce of energy I give is met with results.
My clients love me. My team respects me.
Hell, I could sell the damn shoes off my feet and get four times what I paid for them because I knew how to talk, how to listen, and how to close on a deal.
Out there, I’m Kairo Givelle—the closer, the strategist, the man who makes deals happen. The one people call when they want the house of their dreams.
In here, I didn’t even know who I was to her or my daughter anymore. Maybe just a body in bed. A checkbook. A placeholder for the man I used to be in her eyes.
Happy wife, happy life. That’s what they say, right?
But nobody tells you what to do when making her happy starts to feel like losing yourself.
I walked into the closet and grabbed a t-shirt off the shelf, pulling it over my head as my phone buzzed on the island in the middle of the walk-in.
It was Kemi, so I answered it fast. “Everything okay?”
She laughed softly. “Relax, boss. Everything’s fine here. Actually… I have some good news.”
“Yeah?” I exhaled as I leaned against the wall. “I could use some.”
“The project you’ve been working on. The one with the widow and her five kids? It’s approved.”
I stood still, letting it settle for a second before it hit me.
“You’re serious?” My voice cracked.
“All of it. Jacob’s on board. He said yes.”
“Hell yeah!” I fist pumped the air like I was in the locker room. “Kemi, are you serious?”
I started pacing, too excited to stand still.
I remembered walking through that house for the first time, thinking this is it.
That single mother had been through hell—losing her husband, losing their home, working three jobs and still coming up short.
But she never stopped trying. And that made me try harder.
I didn’t do this work for accolades. I sold luxury homes all day—millions of dollars exchanging hands like it was nothing—but this was what made me feel like a man. Not the money. Not the title. This.
I thought about the family’s application, her letters, the long phone calls with banks trying to convince them she was worth the risk. But even I had to admit—it wasn’t going to happen without something bigger.
That’s why I created my nonprofit in the first place.
So many people hoard homes they never live in just to say they own property in a prime zip code. Meanwhile, women like her are sleeping in cars with kids just trying to survive. That shit never sat right with me.
So I used my connections. I found homes that sat vacant for years, and with a few calls, turned them into opportunities and lifelines.
It was crazy how many people were on board with letting individuals who were really in need, take up space in their homes that were rarely used.
The goal was always ownership, though. And now Jacob, one of my longest-standing clients, was ready to sell his home to that family that he allowed to live there.
“How much?” I asked, already hoping for a miracle.
Kemi laughed. “Guess.”
“Two hundred thousand?”
“That’s generous.”
“The house is worth four hundred thousand. He cuts it in half, I know a few banks who’ll jump in just off the strength of my backing.”
She chuckled harder. “Try again.”
My eyebrows lifted. “Don’t tell me… one fifty?”
“Nope.”
“…One hundred?”
“Yep.”
My jaw dropped. “What?”
“One hundred,” she repeated. “He did all his pop-ins and home visits. He enjoyed checking in on the kids, seeing how she’d been taking care of the place, and said it reminded him of when his mom struggled.
He really wants her to know that she’s an excellent mother. So he’s excited about selling to her.”
I swear, I could’ve kissed that man.
I started jumping in place, doing a silent celebration with Kemi screaming on the other end of the line. She’d been by my side from day one on this project—filing papers, emailing lenders, doing late-night calls. She wanted the win as much as I did.
“I could cry, Kemi. Like, I really could.”
“I know,” she said. “But wait—there’s one small issue.”
I paused. “What?”
“He can only do the closing in May on the 7th. After that, he’s out of the country for four to five months.”
I repeated the date out loud. “Seven… seven…” And then it hit me.
Greece.
The anniversary trip Khloe had been planning since forever. The one she kept saying would finally feel like us again.
“Shit.”
“Yeah,” Kemi said gently. “I figured it might be a conflict.”
It wasn’t just a conflict. It was damn near a dealbreaker. Sellers like Jacob don’t wait. The longer you give them, the more time they have to change their mind, or worse—listen to someone who thinks they’re being too generous, and I couldn’t risk that.
“You think she’d be open to pushing the flight? We could reschedule it for later that night—or even the next day if needed.”
“I can book the closing for early morning,” Kemi offered. “We’ll get in and out, have the papers ready. If she’s flexible, it’s doable.”
I ran a hand down my face. “Let me talk to Khloe first. I can’t make that call without her. But go ahead and move forward with the paperwork. I want everything set before I tell the family anything.”
“Got it. And Kairo?”
“Yeah?”
“I know things are rough right now… but look at what you’re doing. You created something out of nothing. Be proud of that.”
I smiled into the phone. “Thanks, Kemi. Really.”
“Talk to you in the morning,” she said before hanging up.
I stared at the phone for a second before setting it down and walking out of the closet.
The excitement from the news was still buzzing in my chest, but right behind it was a wave of anxiety. It was the kind of good news that could change a life, but I didn’t know it would change mine as well.
I stood in the kitchen, still hype from my workout, tossing blueberries and pineapples into a bowl.
The house was quiet since Khloe had been gone for a few hours to take Kennedi to cheer practice.
She always volunteered to be over the boosters, the snacks, the waters, and the parents’ group chat.
All of it. That was Khloe’s way. She didn’t know how to let go, even if she pretended to.
Kennedi had her permit, and I figured once she turned sixteen and could drive, things would get easier.
But knowing Khloe, she’d still be up at 6 a.m. making sure the car had gas and the tire pressure was right just to follow behind her.
I heard the door open and then footsteps going upstairs. Kennedi. I didn’t even have to look. I could tell by how fast she moved, headed straight to her room, never stopping to say anything unless she needed something.
A few seconds later, Khloe walked in, breathing like she’d just done drills herself.
“The cheer team looks great,” she said, reaching into the fridge. “Good enough to take the championship home this year.”
I kept eating my fruit, nodding, because that was her thing—small talk after an argument, like nothing happened. She hated when I did it, but she did it like it was different coming from her. We could go from screaming at each other to her asking if I wanted tacos like the last hour didn’t happen.
“Oh yeah?” I said, finally speaking. “I know last year when they got runner-up, they were devastated.”
She cracked open a bottle of water and took a long sip. “Yeah, well, with this new coach, I’m sure they’ll take the win home this year.”
Then, like clockwork, she pivoted. “Did you see the message from my mom about what time to be at the ceremony for Rivah?”
I nodded, not bothering to say much because we were in the same damn group chat.
But I got it, that was her way of reaching for peace.
She’d never say “I’m sorry” or bring up what she said earlier.
She’d just danced around it, hoping I’d meet her halfway.
And most of the time, I did. Even when it stung.
I opened the back door to the patio and stepped outside with my bowl. The breeze felt good against my skin. I just sat there, cooling off.
She joined me a few minutes later, slid right into my lap like nothing..
I laughed under my breath because she was good at disarming me. It pissed me off and turned me on at the same time. She laughed with me, knowing exactly what she was doing.
I set my bowl down and kissed her neck, just breathing her in.
She stared out at the yard, smiling. “I can’t wait to be free from all our normal daily activities in a few months,” she whispered.
“You won’t have to run to the office, I won’t have to work, haul Kennedi here and there, or worry about cooking and cleaning…
It’ll just be us. In Greece. Soaking up all the quality time that we need and deserve. ”
That moment should’ve been perfect. But my stomach dropped because how the hell was I supposed to tell her that I needed minor adjustments to the schedule.
I still wanted to go to hold her under the Mediterranean sun and give her the version of me that she missed. But I needed her to push the flight back a little to close a deal that would change another woman’s entire life.
She was sitting in my lap, smiling again, and I didn’t want to ruin it with logistics or “just one more thing” that would make her feel like she was coming second again.
But I also knew… the longer I waited, the worse it’d be. I swallowed hard, tightening my arms around her waist as I kissed her shoulder.
“Baby…” I started. She looked down at me and smiled, not knowing what was coming. “You remember that project I told you about? The single mom with five kids… the one who lost her husband?”
She pulled back slightly, trying to remember. “Mmm… I think so?”
She didn’t. I could tell, but I didn’t take it personal.
I knew she had a million things on her plate.
So I filled her in and reminded her about the house I’d found, the family’s story, the nonprofit we’d been building quietly behind the scenes.
The long hours. The sacrifices. The damn near begging I’d done to get someone to give that woman a chance.
By the time I was finished, she was looking at me like she used to.
“Kairo… you’re amazing,” she whispered, kissing me. “Seriously. That’s beautiful.”
I smiled because it felt good to hear. It wasn’t often. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss hearing my wife say she was proud of me.
For a second, I let myself live in that moment. Let myself believe we could sit and bask in something good. But I knew it was short-lived.
“The only thing is…” I started, clearing my throat. “Jacob, the owner of the house, he wants to close. But he can only do it on the 7th… of May.”
Her smile vanished so fast, you would’ve thought I’d smacked her.
“Are you fucking serious?” she said, pulling away from me entirely. “It’s always something.”
“Khloe—”
“No, Kairo. No. I’ve been planning this trip for the longest. I always get the short end of the stick when it comes to us. Always.”
I tried to calm her down, to talk her through it, but she wasn’t trying to hear anything I said.
“I’m not canceling,” I said firmly. “I’m not. I just need us to push the flight back a little. We can still leave the same day, just maybe that evening or later that night.”
Tears filled her eyes and she stood up.
“No, we can’t,” she snapped. “I have excursions booked. Reservations. An entire itinerary. If we miss that flight, the whole trip will be off.”
“Baby,” I said, standing now too. “I just want to make sure this woman and her kids get that home. Can we miss just a few—”
“Fuck no!” she yelled. “You’ve missed a lot of things over the years, Kairo! So no!”
I clenched my jaw. Because at that point, I was pissed too. She wasn’t even trying to be reasonable. I wasn’t saying no to the damn trip. I just needed a few more hours.
And then out of nowhere, she looked at me and said the one thing that cracked something in me clean open.
“I don’t know why I still expect much from you. You don’t have to go. It’s okay.”
Then she turned her back, walked inside, and slammed the door. I just stood there, staring at the space she used to be in, wondering what the fuck could I do.