28

Heartbreak Anniversary - Giveon

Kamala's place was too quiet. The kind of quiet that makes your own breathing feel like it's too much.

We were curled up on the couch—well, she was trying to be. Legs stretched across the cushions, blanket over us, the soft flicker of a movie playing on the TV. Some political drama she'd picked, something "brilliantly written." I'd tuned out twenty minutes ago.

My phone buzzed in my hand.

Michelle:you looked good in class today. real good. 😏

I smirked, typing back fast.

Me:stop 😭 u play too much

"Mariah," Kamala said, not looking away from the screen.

"Hm?"

"Who are you texting?"

My fingers froze mid-typing. "Just Karina," I lied, locking my screen.

Kamala finally looked at me. Her eyes weren't soft. They hadn't been all night.

"You've been on your fucking phone since we sat down," she said. Calm. Too calm.

I blinked. "I didn't mean to be rude. I was listening—"

"No, you weren't." She sat up straighter, pulling her arm back from where it had been resting behind me. "You haven't been listening to me at all lately."

"That's not true," I said quickly, sitting up too.

"Mariah, don't gaslight me." Her voice was sharper now. "You've been distant. Cold. And I've let shit slide because I figured maybe you were stressed. Maybe it was school or your family or whatever. But now?" She laughed, bitter. "Now you can't even look at me for a full minute without checking your fucking phone."

"It's not that deep—"

"Oh, it's deep enough," she snapped, voice rising. "You think I don't notice when something's wrong? You think I'm fucking stupid?"

I swallowed hard. My chest tightened.

"Let me see your phone."

"What?" I whispered.

"Let me see it." Her eyes locked onto mine, unblinking. "Right now."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because—" I couldn't even think of something solid. "Because I don't owe you that. I'm not doing anything wrong."

"You're lying," she said, standing. "You think I don't fucking recognize the signs? I've played this game before."

"There's no game!" I stood too, heart pounding. "I'm just—God, Kamala, I'm overwhelmed! I have so much on my plate, and I can't breathe without somebody needing something from me! My dad, Karina, school—you!"

She flinched, like I'd slapped her.

The silence after that was brutal.

Kamala's lips pressed together. Her jaw clenched.

"I'm not gonna beg for your attention," she said finally, voice low. "I'm too old, too fucking powerful, and too damn in love with you to play little girl games."

I stepped forward. "I'm not trying to hurt you—"

"You already are," she cut me off. "And you're too caught up in whatever the hell this is to even notice."

I didn't know what to say. I stood there, empty. Frozen.

Kamala's eyes glistened, just for a second. And then the mask came back.

She walked to the door, grabbed her keys, and flung it open.

"Fix your shit," she said without turning around. "Because I don't chase anybody. Not even you."

Then she slammed the door behind her. Hard.

And just like that, the storm came.

And I was standing in the middle of it.

***

The door shook in its frame after she slammed it, and the echo stuck in my ears long after the sound was gone.

I stood there like a fool.

Frozen. Phone in hand. Her scent still lingering in the air. Her voice still in my head—cracking and sharp, raw and angry. The kind of angry that comes from heartbreak. The kind that comes from love.

I should've chased her.

Should've thrown my phone across the room. Should've told Michelle to go to hell. Should've screamed everything I was too scared to say when Kamala was standing in front of me, eyes full of disappointment.

But instead, I just stood there.

Feeling the silence wrap itself around my chest like a straightjacket.

My phone buzzed again.

Michelle:

sorry if i was too flirty lol. i just think ur cool. no pressure.

I turned the phone off. Just shut the whole thing down. Because if I read another message, I'd scream.

I sat on Kamala's couch, the one we've cuddled on too many times to count. My legs tucked under me. My arms crossed over my chest like I could physically hold myself together.

But I couldn't.

I buried my face in my hands.

And cried.

Not the pretty kind. Not the slow tears that fall during sad songs. I cried like something had been ripped out of me. Like I had ruined the one safe place I ever had. Like I'd broken the one woman who had seen every version of me—and loved me anyway.

And I had no one to blame but myself.

⸻

Kamala's POVLater that night

I shouldn't be driving. Not like this.

Hands shaking on the wheel. Mind racing. Eyes burning from holding back tears that don't even want to wait for privacy anymore.

But I had to get out. I had to breathe. Because if I'd stayed one more minute in that house—with her, with that lie on her lips—I would've said something cruel. And I promised myself I'd never do that to her. Not even when she deserves it.

I pulled over. Parked. Left the engine running.

And just sat there.

My heart thudding in my chest like it was trying to knock its way out. My fingers tapping the steering wheel, restless. My jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

Michelle.

Of course it was Michelle.

I saw it from the first day she strutted into class like she owned the damn floor, eyes immediately drawn to Mariah like she already knew who she was. And Mariah? She laughed. She leaned in. She didn't even realize how different she got when Michelle was around—how soft her voice went, how quick she was to respond.

And I let it go.

Because I didn't want to be the insecure one. The controlling professor. The woman pushing forty who couldn't compete with a younger girl's energy.

But now?

Now I felt played.

I pulled out my phone. Scrolled to Mariah's name.

My thumb hovered over it.

I missed her. Even now. Even after all the yelling. I missed her eyes, her nervous little laugh, the way she always tucked her feet under her when she sat next to me like she belonged there.

But I couldn't text her.

Not when I still felt this angry.

I tossed my phone on the passenger seat and leaned back.

Because here's the part I can't say out loud:It's not just jealousy.It's fear.Fear that I gave her too much of me too fast.Fear that I'm too much woman for a girl who's still figuring herself out.Fear that one day, she'll wake up and decide she doesn't want to be here anymore—and I'll be left with empty hands and a heart that doesn't know how to forget her.

And maybe... maybe that day already came.

***Mariah

I don't even remember walking to the bedroom.

But here I was—sitting on Kamala's bed, legs pulled to my chest, hoodie sleeves bunched up around my fists. The blanket still smelled like her.

My eyes burned from crying, but my chest wouldn't let up. Like something heavy was just sitting on it, daring me to breathe.

I reached for my phone.

Not to text Michelle. Not to stalk Kamala's page.

I needed Karina.

I scrolled to her contact, hesitated for half a second, then hit "call."

She picked up on the second ring. "Yo, you good?"

I didn't even answer. I couldn't. The second I heard her voice, something broke again, and the tears came back like they'd just been waiting for a reason.

"Mariah?" Her voice sharpened. "What happened?"

I took a shaky breath. "Can you come get me?" My voice cracked, embarrassingly weak.

"Where are you?"

"At her house," I whispered. "She left. She slammed the door and—she was so mad, Rina. Like, really mad."

Karina didn't say anything for a second. I could tell she was already throwing on shoes or grabbing her keys.

"I'll be there in ten."

⸻

Ten Minutes Later

The knock on the door was soft. Careful. Like Karina already knew I was a mess on the other side.

I opened it without saying a word and folded right into her arms.

She didn't ask questions.

She just held me.

Let me cry into her hoodie like I was fifteen again, like the world hadn't changed and I wasn't in too deep with a woman who could break me with just one look.

"You wanna talk about it?" she asked eventually, pulling back to look at me.

I nodded, wiping my face. "She saw me texting Michelle."

Karina blinked. "Oh. Damn."

I dropped my head. "I swear I wasn't doing anything. It wasn't like that. I wasn't flirting. I was just... talking."

"Yeah, but you didn't tell her who you were texting, huh?"

"No," I whispered.

"Mm." She sighed. "That's where you fucked up."

"I know," I said, my voice barely there. "I didn't mean for it to be a big deal. But she snapped. Like, full-on snapped. Told me I was being distant. That I'm always on my phone. She asked to see it, and I froze. And then she just—she left."

Karina shook her head, rubbing my back. "You can't lie to her. Not someone like Kamala."

"I didn't lie—"

"But you didn't tell the truth either."

That part stung. Because it was true.

"I'm scared she's done with me."

Karina tilted her head. "She's not done."

"How do you know?"

"Because that woman loves you," she said softly. "I've seen it. It's not just sex. It's not just fun. You're it for her. You scared her tonight, Mar."

I sat down on the edge of the bed again, rubbing my forehead. "I didn't mean to."

"I know." Karina sat beside me. "You just gotta figure out what you want. If you want to keep texting Michelle, cool. But you can't do both. You can't have Kamala and let someone else have your attention."

I nodded slowly, lips trembling again. "I want Kamala. I just—sometimes I get distracted. Or I mess things up before they can mess me up."

Karina sighed. "Then fix it. Call her. Go to her. Whatever it takes. You can't let one text thread ruin what y'all got."

————

So don't fight me...