"Well, I think we should get all up in it," Amina said, rolling her eyes. "Ayida, you gotta read her."
"Ayida, no you don't," Chiana snapped quick. It was quick enough to make me blink.
Her reaction told me what her mouth wasn't saying. She knew something. I opened my mouth to respond, but Juste's voice carried across the table. "P, go get Ju. It's time for us to have a seat so they can speak and we can get the hell outta here."
We shifted around the table, finding our assigned seats. The air was cool from the AC, but the tension was warm, almost sticky on my skin. Noles slid my chair closer to his, like he always did, kissing my cheek before leaning back in his seat. That small gesture made my heart dip in my chest, even through the unease rolling through me.
The speech portion started. organizers thanking the donors, acknowledging the St. Jean family by name, talking about the new charter schools opening next year. It should've felt like a celebration. It didn't. The whole time, I could feeleyes on us. Not watchers , observers. Folks who had their own whispers. Their own judgments. Their own reasons to linger.
I could feel the ancestors humming in my bones, energy shifting like smoke. A chill ran over my skin and the room started to smell of mil dew. When the speeches finished, I was hoping it was time to go. Instead, different staff members and board members started circling the tables, shaking hands, thanking donors personally, smiling just a little too hard.
I saw Nash on the other side of the event. He didn't just walk in, he arrived sure to bring attention to himself. Tall.
Posture straight like he carried a crown nobody gave him.
Eyes sharp and cold, the type that didn't skim a room, they cut through it.
The woman beside him was breathtaking in that glossy, polished way people with old money often were, posture perfect, smile trained, hair laid with purpose. She moved with him like she'd been doing it her whole life. Together, they walked the room like the air had been handcrafted for them.
Like the space bent a little to let them pass. The moment they entered, the energy around me shifted so fast my spirit lurched. Nia's shoulders locked tight. Jules stopped mid-sip Pierre froze for half a breath. I felt Noles tense beside me, muscles tightening before his arm slid around my waist, pulling me closer in that silent, instinctive way he had when he sensed danger. He didn't look at me. he looked out, scanning, reading, preparing.
When Nash's eyes met Jules', the air snapped sharp. The woman reached us first. "I don't think I've met you before," she said, her smile soft, warm even. "I'm Filesha." She offered her hand. I didn't think. I just reached out and touched her.
And the moment our palms met, Her world exploded into mine. Not soft. Not subtle. Not like visions usually come, rolling in gentle like fog. This came like the ancestors ripped the veil open with both hands.
Sudden.
Hard.
Violent.
Images slammed into me:
Children laughing in green yards. Christmas lights blinking on big brick houses. Hands stirring gumbo in a bright kitchen. A woman singing off-key while cleaning. Fidel Baptiste's loud voice echoing in a hallway. His wife brushing Filesha's hair. Family portraits hanging straight as soldiers.
Then Faces sharpened. Undeniable.
Fidel.
His wife.
Their children.
And then My mama. Her crying. Her begging. Her being pushed away. Her sitting alone on the edge of a bed. Her clutching her stomach. Her praying. Her running. Her cursing. Her breaking. My chest tightened violently.
The curse.
My curse.
Their doing.
It hit me so hard my breath cut short. I ripped my hand away from her like her skin burned me. Filesha stumbled back a step, startled. My knees wobbled. The chandelier above us blurred. The whole room tilted for a second lights, people, voices, everything blending into one dizzy smear. I reached forthe only grounding thing in the room , Noles. My fingers dug into his hand so tight he turned instantly, eyes searching mine. His jaw flexed. His brows pinched. Without speaking, he pulled me into his chest, one hand cupping the back of my head, lips brushing the top of my hair .
Behind us, Nia's voice trembled. "Jules, let's just go." She was scared. But before she could move him, Nash reached out and grabbed her hand. And brought it to his lips. Kissing it. Intimate in the worst kind of way. A shiver crawled across my spine, every hair on my arms standing up.
Jules moved so fast it felt like the air got sliced in half. He yanked Nia back with so much force she stumbled, her heel catching the leg of a chair. She gasped, clutching his arm. Jules' eyes were wild, rage pouring off him like heat, shoulders squared, body shaking with a fury deep as blood.
Nash didn't flinch. If anything. He smiled. Filesha tugged on his sleeve desperately, whispering something quick, urgent but Nash didn't move. Not until Juste stepped forward. Juste didn't raise his voice. Didn't puff his chest. Didn't posture like men did when they tried to intimidate. He stood between them with a stillness sharper than violence. "Not the time or the place," he said.
