“I figured you didn’t.” My voice cracked. “It tore us up… especially him. I know it haunts him even now. It changed everything between us. We couldn’t look at each other without seeing her.” I looked away, fighting back the sting in my throat. “But she’s still with us; not here, butwithus. Even now... I feel her presence. When I cook certain meals or hear the wind brush against the window, it’s like I can almost hear her laugh. I still sleep with the hospital blanket they gave us. It’s a little worn along the edges, but I can’t bear to let it go. It’s one of the few items that ever touched her and came back to us.”
Isis reached out, her hand gently resting on mine. “I’m so sorry, Chesteria. I couldn't imagine carrying a child, only to lose it.”
I nodded, grateful for her understanding. “It’s okay. I don’t share this part of my life with many people… but I figured it was time.”
“Do you still love him?” she asked, almost hesitant.
I nodded. “I never stopped,” I admitted, the truth spilling out before I could second-guess it. “Even through the pain, the silence, and the space that grew between us, I never truly let go. That kind of loss… it either binds you together or shatters you completely. We broke, but I guess we’ve always held on to the pieces, however jagged they are.”
Isis offered me a small, understanding smile, tinged with sadness. “Damn. No wonder he couldn’t love me back.”
I wiped my eyes, letting out a chuckle that was more a reflection of my sorrow than humor.
"It’s not a reflection of you, though. You stepped into a story that started long before you arrived. And I never meant to make you feel like the outsider. But… that’s our history. That’s the reason for the underlying tension, the sideways glances, and quiet moments between us. It’s not purely about now; it’s about all we've lost and everything we never got the chance to become together.”
Isis exhaled, her hand still steady on mine. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll admit… Iwasjealous. I thought you were just some ex who didn’t know how to move on... but I get it now."
We sat in reflective silence for a moment, just two women with distinctly different paths meeting at the same deep ache of unfulfilled love.
“Can we call a truce?” she asked, her tone almost tentative.
I looked back at her, really seeing her for the first time. Beneath the long lashes and the bougie perfume, Isis was just a woman navigating her worth, longing to be chosen and to feel enough, much like the rest of us.
“Only if we pinky promise not to throw shade for the rest of the trip.”
A smile spread across her face, weak but real. “Oh, we can shade each otherrespectfully. But I promise, no more drama. I’m not about to argue with or fight you over a man you clearly have a whole soul tie with. Shit, you win.”
I chuckled lightly. “I didn’t even realize it was a contest.”
Isis playfully tossed a pillow at me, laughter mingling with a sense of relief. “Girl, everything with men is a contest. But I’m exhausted. Let’s survive this trip, keep the peace, and head home with our edges and dignity intact.”
I laughed, wiping away one last tear that had escaped. “Deal.”
We locked pinkies, and just like that, the edge between us softened.
“You’re beautiful too, Isis… you are,” I complimented, catching her off guard. “And you don’t gotta put on a show for anybody to see it. The problem isn't that you’re not enough, it’s that you think you gotta perform to be chosen. You don’t. You’ve got presence, confidence, and a body that half the women in the world would envy. You walk into a room and shift the energy; that’s a gift. But in striving to be ‘the baddest,’ you often forget to just be yourself. And that’s what men like Bryce can see through—quickly.”
She crossed her arms, but her body softened just a touch.
“Beauty can open doors, make heads turn, and hearts race, but looks won’t keep a man like Bryce. A loud mouth, a slick tongue, and a fat ass might get any man’s attention, but peace, accountability, and authenticity…that’swhat truly keeps a man like Bryce. Bryce is a man who recognizes substance. He’s seen pain and carried grief on his shoulders. He doesn’t just want a pretty face; he’s searching for someone who can offer him peace, challenge him, and truly seeshim… not just the idea of him.”
I leaned forward slightly, gentler now.
“You want a man like Bryce? You could have one; hell, you could have five. You just have to ask yourself when the hair’s wrapped, the makeup’s off, and your heart’s on the line, what version of you is showing up? Because that’s the woman he’ll fall for. That’s the kind of woman any real man is going to stay for. I know you wanted him, and maybe he wasn’t yours to have, but don’t let that make you feel unworthy of the kind of love that stays… the kind that sees you for who you are because you are worthy. You simply have to stop dimming the best parts of yourself behind a façade of sarcasm and shade.”
Isis looked momentarily taken aback, her expression softening as she absorbed my words. “Thank you, Chesteria. I really needed to hear that.”
“I know,” I replied, a flicker of cockiness creeping into my tone. “And next time love shows up at your doorstep, don’t put on a performance for it; just be yourself. You’re enough, just as you are. You always were.”
Isis bit her lip, pondering my words as they settled into the corners of her heart—areas she probably hadn’t even realized were aching for reassurance.
“You ever think you’d be saying all this to me?” she asked, a mix of surprise and vulnerability in her eyes.
I smiled softly. “No, honestly. But I’m not your enemy, Isis. And if I can help a woman evolve into something better instead of bitter, I’ll do it… every single time.”
And just like that, the ice between us melted; not into best-friendship, but into something better than pettiness—understanding. An acknowledgment that we were both just navigating our own complicated journeys.
And that was enough... for now.
