.....

The next morning, I woke up before Cairo. I quietly got out the bed and got dressed. I then went into the bathroom to clean up, grabbing my clothes and throwing them in the hamper. I picked up Cairo's clothes as well and folded them before setting them on the bed. When I was done, I brushed my teeth and washed my face.

My hair was an absolute mess so I basically had to re-wash it. I then parted my hair and two-strand twisted each of the sections. Lastly, I oiled my scalp and pulled my bonnet down over my head.

When I finally stepped back into the room, I noticed that the bed was already made. "You didn't have to do that," I said. Cairo just shrugged and pulled on the last of his clothes.

"I left an extra toothbrush and a rag on the counter for you."

"I appreciate it," he said walking around me.

"Oh, and I was thinking about making breakfast if you're hungry."

"Would it be rude if I said that I just wanna talk?"

"No, but I thought you would be hungry."

"We can eat after."

"But it might be awkward after we talk."

"Then let's not make it awkward," he said. I nodded in agreement.

"Ok. I'll be downstairs when you're done." I then left the room and scurried downstairs to gather my thoughts. When Cairo came down five minutes later, he thanked me for the toothbrush and sat down right next to me on the couch. I crossed my legs and turned my whole body to face him.

"Last night you asked me if you had done anything to upset me, but you didn't. You didn't do anything wrong," I got straight to the point.

"Then what was that speech you gave me over the phone? One minute you're rambling then the next you're saying that you're done with our arrangement. Not to mention, you hung up in my face before I could say anything."

"I know, and that was fucked up, but I panicked. I thought that if I kept my message short and simple, you wouldn't argue with my decision. I didn't expect you to come knocking on my door a day later asking questions."

"Wow, so you really thought that I wasn't gonna feel some type of way?"

"I know. I'm sorry. I honestly didn't want to have this conversation in person because I didn't want your presence to make me indecisive."

"Indecisive about what?"

"About how I feel."

"And how exactly are you feeling?" He asked.

"I feel like we just want two different things," I shrugged. "I want more than just the physical, and I feel like I give you a lot of me but you give me none of you."

"That's not true. You call me crying in the middle of the night, I'm always there for you—no questions asked. I give you my time, my energy, my—"

"You won't give me your heart," I interrupted. He looked stunned for a few seconds so I just kept talking.

"The sex is great Cairo, but I'm not happy with just that."

"But you knew what this was when we started," he argued.

"Yes, and I caught feelings. I've never not had feelings for you Cairo. In fact, I've had feelings for you since high school, and I shot myself in the foot by agreeing to let you have your way with me. And to protect my heart from further damage, I choose to pull away."

"Why you gotta complicate this?"

"Feelings are complicated. I envy the way you can just turn off your emotions—completely detach yourself, but I can't do that. And it's honestly fucked up how I keep getting in bed with men that don't want to be in a relationship with me."

"It's not you Asha. I just don't do relationships," he said. And I rolled my eyes. Everyone always says the same shit.

"I get that, but I've never been in an exclusive relationship before, and I desperately want to know what that feels like."

"And you know I can't give you that," he said.

"It's not that you can't, you just won't. And it's weird because you're everything that I want in a partner. You listen to me, you make me feel wanted, you make me laugh, you spoil me, and you worship my body. I mean, the list goes on."

"I think you just don't want to be in a relationship because you'd rather not commit. Honestly, I think you're scared of committing because you don't want to fall short and end up hurting someone. And until you're ready to commit, you're completely fine with just doing what's comfortable because you can opt-out at any time. And I respect that, but I need to protect myself, that's all," I continued as he watched me.

"I wasn't tryna hurt you or make you feel like you had to settle for something you didn't want," he said.

"I know, and it's my fault. I was way in over my head, but now I know that I can't do just strictly sex. I need more. And to get more, I have to stop pushing my feelings to the side just to please others. This is what I was trying to explain to you yesterday, but I think the meaning got lost when I let my frustration take over," I told him. Cairo sighed deeply before looking away. It was then quiet between us for awhile, which most likely meant that he was upset.

"How long have you been feeling this way?" He asked.

"Long enough," I spoke softly. "But I really wanted this to work—and it did for awhile—but the thrill of it wore off." When he shook his head in disappointment, I quickly reached forward and grabbed his face so he would look at me.

"I'm beyond satisfied Cairo," I tried to reassure him.

"But not happy," he countered. I cringed at his tone. But regardless of how he felt, or how brutal the revelation sounded coming out of his mouth...he was right. I just wasn't happy.

"I'm sorry," was all I could say.

.....

"So, how is everything going?" My therapist asked me.

"I don't know," I laughed nervously. "A lot has happened since the last time we spoke."

"I figured. That's why I made sure to have my notebook and pen ready. Like always, I'm prepared to listen to whatever is on your mind. And if you don't feel comfortable with that or you don't know where to start, I can look at my notes and we can go from there."

"I like the second option," I said.

"Okay, that's fine." She then looked down at her book and flipped back a few pages.

"First, I gotta ask, how's job hunting?" My eyes widened at her question.

"I know you've been having a hard time finding a job. And the last time we spoke you said that job hunting was a 'complete pain in the ass.' Do you still feel that way?"

"Honestly, yes. I've been putting in so many applications to various real estate agencies, but I haven't heard anything back. I'm just scared that I won't be able to find an opportunity as good as the one I had with my old boss. And the more I think about it, the more it stress me out," I frowned.

"Okay, we can come back to this topic later," she said looking down again. "What about..." she paused.

"Oh, how is Imani?" She asked next.

I smiled softly at hearing my daughter's name. I would much rather talk about her than my failed attempts at finding employment. So, I started off by explaining how excited Imani was on her first day. I even pulled out my phone to show some of the pictures I took of Imani in her school uniform.

"Have you had the chance to resolve the conflict with you and the father?" She then asked once we were done gushing over Imani.

"About that, I know I said that I would talk to him, but we still haven't sat down and had a deep conversation. And when we do talk, it's usually only about Imani, nothing else."

"And why is that?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "Well, I do know. It's because I keep telling myself that I'm not ready to talk yet," I said.

Even though it's been almost a year since Dashawn came back, I find myself still feeling spiteful. I already know all I need to know—Kennedy is dead, the nigga that helped her is also dead, and they're both rotting in hell. I know that my mom was let go and is currently on the streets doing drugs. I also know that Dashawn had to kill a lot of people to get Imani back, and I know about the deal he made to protect both himself and his crew. Since Dashawn is technically still dead, I also know that his life has been completely altered to protect his identity. That's why he now only goes into establishments he either trusts or owns himself.

But have I forgiven him for faking his death? Absolutely not.

"What about your friends? I know you mentioned that you lost a few."

"I did say that," I frowned.

"You don't have to talk about it. We can move on."

"No, it's fine. I think I already told you about Briana anyway."

"Yes, you did. How is she?"

"She's been real busy with work. We talk on occasions, but we aren't as close as we used to be," I said.

"How does that make you feel? In our last session you got emotional when you started talking about her."

"It makes me really sad that we aren't as close anymore," I stated honestly. "She was literally my only real friend."

"Do you think your friendship with Briana is worth mending?"

"I honestly don't know," I said. She nodded, jotting down some notes for future reference. Even though Briana and I aren't super close anymore, I'm still thankful for our friendship. But you wanna know what really fucked me up?

It was when I found out that Penny knew about Dashawn the whole time. Her and I actually got into a heated argument when I first found out, and we haven't talked since. I thought we were a lot closer than we were, but apparently not since she was completely fine with lying to my face for years. Oh, and apparently, her and Briana broke up around that time as well. I'm not sure what happened between them, and I never really cared enough to ask.

"Ok, last question, how's it going with your father and your sister? I know you said you and your father were on good terms but I don't remember you saying anything about your sister. What was her name again?"

"Oh, Remi. Me and Remi are super close now. I think I talk to her more than anyone. She pops up quite frequently and sometimes I also go down to Florida to see her. Every time I go visit them, the vibe is always fun, and Imani loves it."

"Good, that's amazing. I remember you telling me that your mother was abusive to you growing up, but she's no longer in the picture. So, I'm glad to hear that you're getting along with the rest of your family. And as long as you're comfortable, it's good that you're making an effort to connect with them."

"Thank you," I smiled softly.

"Of course," she said finishing up her notes.

"Can I ask you a question?" I asked her. "It's a topic that we haven't really talked about yet, but something just recently happened and I need some advice."

"Okay, I'm all ears," she perked up. I instantly got nervous and started wiping my sweaty hands on my clothes. I then cleared my throat.

"Ok, this may sound silly but I just ended this situation with a guy that I've been intimate with, and I want to know if I made a mistake or not."

"Okay," she gestured for me to keep going.

"So, maybe like five months back, I agreed to start a no-strings-attached situation with a guy that I've known since high school. At first, it was really fun, and I took advantage of the weeks that I didn't have Imani. He would take me out, buy me gifts, and shower me with attention. And on top of that, the sex was amazing." I paused for a second before continuing. "But after awhile, I realized that I wasn't happy at all. I was satisfied, but not happy. Then I started contemplating why I wasn't happy. I thought that I had what most women wanted—a man with good money and good dick, excuse my language."

"Those five months were everything to me. When I was with him, I would forget about all of my responsibilities. And I thought that I was lucky, but damn was I wrong. I only realized that I was settling when I longed for him to promote me to girlfriend status, and he never did. So, I eventually had enough, and here we are now," I smiled brokenly.

"You ended it?" She asked to make sure that she was following along.

"Yes, a few days ago," I responded.

"Then why are you crying?" She questioned.

"Because it just seems like I can't have anything. And it's so stupid. I finally get to choose what I want, and I'm crying like an indecisive brat. I'm frustrated because I haven't stopped thinking about him since, and now I'm having doubts about my decision. Not because I miss the sex or anything like that. I just miss having something. And sure, I wasn't happy, but now I have nothing; now I'm lonely again."

"Asha, what are you trying to say?"

"I need to know if my wants were even worth ending things? Like, am I the problem? Should I have just toughed it out?" I asked, wiping at my tears.

Dr. Michelle, my therapist, sat her notebook down and came to sit next me on the couch. Before I could wipe my tears, she grabbed my hands.

"I know, I'm pathetic," I laughed, trying to pull away.

"Stop, you are not pathetic. You are beautiful and you are human. What you did was amazing."

"Then why do I feel like shit? Cairo did nothing wrong."

"No, you did nothing wrong," she argued. "How did he respond when you ended things?"

"He was upset, but he was also understanding," I said.

"Do you want my honest opinion?" She asked.

"Yes, please," I nodded eagerly.

"I think you're still hurting, which is causing you to contradict yourself," she said.

"Hurting from what?"

"Absolutely everything. You're always so vague about your past hardships, but I can tell that they've affected you on a deeper level. And I really think that you need to address all of those hardships, both past and present. I didn't want to tell you this until I had a better assessment of you, but you are what I would call a broken soul. You are literally broken. And no matter how hard you try to hide it, it seeps through and contaminates every aspect of your life. For starters, whatever conflict you have with any of the people in your life, I think you should let it go. And when I say let it go, I don't mean that you should completely turn a blind eye—that's not what I'm saying at all. BUT, you should resolve them. You shouldn't hold all that negative energy in your heart—it's not good for your mind or your body. Healing takes an immense amount of time, and you can't heal from past hardships if you can't even sit down and have a decent conversation with the man that helped you create a baby. I'm telling you from experience, you need to target the stuff you can control first. Then, you can address the deeper things—the stuff that happened in your childhood. And to do that, you have to talk about it. No more trying to suppress your trauma, you need to let it out."

"No, I can't," I tried pulling away. "I can't talk about it. It makes me sick just thinking about it."

"Then how do you expect to heal? How do you expect to build your confidence back up? How can you expect to make basic decisions about your everyday life if you can't even be confident that you're making the right one? Because I can assure you that you definitely shouldn't be having doubts about choosing your happiness over a man's happiness. And that's just one example right there."

"Please, don't make me talk about it," I cried harder.

"Asha, I can't make you do anything. No one can make you do anything you don't want to do. I just want to help you. I've seen too many people just like you, and I can't save someone that doesn't want to be saved. And if that's the case, you're just wasting your time and money."

I looked up at the ceiling, trying to calm myself down. Deep down, I knew that she was right. And I know that I'm not fine, and I've never been fine. But one day when someone asks me how I'm doing, I desperately want to be able to look them in the eye and say for the first time in my life that, "I'm fine," and I want to mean that shit with all my heart.

So, I turned my attention back to Dr. Michelle.

"Okay, I'll try."

.....

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