“You taking a woman with you,” he reminded me. “That ain’t quiet; that’s chaos… especially the way you described her.”
“Chaos indeed, my nigga,” I agreed.
The moment he said that, my stomach dipped.
Davion wasn’t lying. Yeah, Chesteria was a professor—beautiful, brilliant, calm, and collected in front of a classroom—but she also had a savage side to her. And if she ever found out I brought another woman to our cabin… God help us all.
I rubbed my thumb across my brow, forcing the panic back down.
Chesteria won’t find out. Hell nah. The only way she’d ever know is if she shows up… and it’s not her month; it’s mine. So I’m in the clear… I hope.
Before I could respond, he added, “Look, hit me up before you strike out tomorrow. If shit go left, whether that be Chesteria killing you or a bear doing you dirty, just know I’ll put you away nicely… closed casket and all.”
I chuckled. “Nigga, shut that shit up. Ain’t nobody dying—not by the hands of a woman or the paws of a damn bear.”
“Yeah… aight. Gon’ get you some rest, ol’ hard-working ass nigga. I’ll holla at you tomorrow.”
“Bet,” I yawned.
When we hung up, I sat there for a moment, staring at my phone.
That trip was supposed to be just a quick getaway before Christmas, but after Davion’s warning and dealing with Isis’s delusional excitement, with her acting like we were about to elope in the mountains, it didn’t feel as simple as I’d been pretending it would be. I could already feel that it was about to be either a weekend I broke down or one I regretted. Either way… unforgettable.
Chapter three
Chesteria
“Packing the Silence My Heart Still Carries”
Icarefully folded the last of my soft, knit sweaters into the scuffed, well-used duffel bag and zipped it halfway before glancing out the window. The late-morning sun peeked through gray clouds, casting a soft, cold light across the bedroom floor.
I exhaled quietly and turned toward the worn keepsake box resting on the dresser, its surface covered in tiny scratches and memories. My fingers trembled as I gently lifted the lid.
There it was: the tiniest pale pink onesie, its fabric delicate and crisp, folded just as the nurse had handed it to me with such care. It still carried the faintest imprint of my baby’s scent—sweet, warm, and utterly innocent. She had only worn it for a few hours after delivery, and I had taken it off, desperate to preserve its memory. I had never washed it.
I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.
Anytime I prepared for an out-of-town trip or a long drive, that tiny garment was the thing I clung to.
I brought the onesie to my face, inhaling slowly, seeking solace in the fading scent. Tears slipped down my cheeks unchecked. My knees weakened under the heaviness of my grief, and I sank onto the edge of the bed, allowing myself to feel the raw emotions I typically buried deep inside.
“You were supposed to be here,” I whimpered, my voice cracking under the weight of sorrow. “Right now, you should be running around this damn house, tearing up my nerves, pulling down ornaments, and asking a hundred questions that I wouldn’t have the answers to."
I clutched the fabric tighter, as if the sheer could somehow draw her back into my arms.
“I was supposed to be yelling at you to sit still, to finish your cereal, to get out of my purse. But instead… I’m holding something you barely wore just to remember what you smelled like.”
My chest trembled with grief.
Nobody talks about this part of loss enough; the kind of silence that screams, crawls into every part of your life, and makes everything feel paused but still moving at the same time.That kind of pain never really leaves you; you just learn to carry it more quietly, tucked behind a brave face.
I wiped my cheeks and looked down at the onesie, now damp from my tears. With careful precision, I refolded it, aligning each crease perfectly, sleeves tucked in as if preparing it for a child who would never wear it again. I placed it gently in the center of my bag, a fragile treasure nestled among my belongings.
A sudden vibration on the nightstand startled me, pulling me back into the present moment.
Adrian: I’m outside. No rush. Take your time.
I let out a long breath, trying to gather myself… to piece together enough strength for the day. I was glad when Adrian decided to drive. He actually offered without hesitation.
