“Did you fuck the bitches you cheated on me with?” Nivéa shot back before she could stop herself. Anger drowned out fear. His audacity was too much.
“Yeah, aight. You got me fucked up. Whatever the fuck you had going on with this nigga is over. Believe that. I’m home.”
Nivéa didn’t bother to respond. She just swallowed hard as she watched him delete the photo and every message between her and Crown. His number vanished along with them, leaving a hollow ache in her chest.
The rest of the night felt like hell. Sleep never came, despite the exhaustion weighing heavily on her body. The television played old episodes of Martin, but even her favorite show couldn’t ease her nerves. Nyla woke every two or three hours to nurse, and each time, Nivéa held her close, letting the baby’s warmth ground her amid the chaos.
She stayed awake. Waiting. Thinking. Praying that morning wouldn’t come before she found a way to reach the alarm panel. But that had been pointless. Morning came anyway, and when it did, she was running on fumes and pure survival just like Boe.
“Boe,” she called softly, watching his head dip forward. “Boe.”
His eyes popped open at the second call and the sound of Nyla's soft cries. “Yeah?” he answered, his voice thick with sleep.
“I need to make Ny a bottle.”
“Why can’t you breastfeed like you’ve been doing?”
“I’m sore. I rotate to give my body a break.”
Boe sighed, clearly too tired to argue or get up. “Go. But don’t do anything stupid. I’m telling you, shit changes between us if you play with me.”
Nodding, Nivéa stood slowly with Nyla still attached to her arms, careful not to seem eager.
“Nah, she stays. Bring her here.”
Her heart jumped. “You don’t know anything about holding or taking care of a baby. She’s crying.”
“She gon’ be straight. Bring her here.”
“No.”
“Nivéa.”
“I’m not bringing my child to you, so stop fuckin’ asking.” She shifted into mama bear mode.
“You know what…” Boe sucked his teeth, agitation flashing across his face as he rubbed his temple. The lack of sleep had given him a brutal migraine. “Then put her in the muthafuckin’ swing! And calm your ass the fuck down.”
Anger and fear consumed Nivéa. Everything in her wanted to argue and take Nyla with her anyway. But she held back. This was their only way out, and she couldn’t afford to fuck it up. Maybe leaving Nyla behind would work in her favor. She couldn’t move as fast with her attached to her chest, and right now, speed mattered more than comfort.
With shaking hands, Nivéa eased Nyla into the swing. She pressed a kiss to her baby’s forehead, sliding the pacifier into her mouth before straightening and turning toward the kitchen. Her heart was pounding so loudly it felt like thunder in her ears. She just had to get to that alarm while he was too tired to follow her.
Nivéa moved into the kitchen, aware that Boe’s eyes were glued to her from the couch. She knew that was the only reason he wasn’t trippin’ too hard. From where he sat, he could still see most of her movements, just enough to feel in control.
She opened the refrigerator, pulled out a bottle, and placed it in the warmer. Her hands shook slightly, but she kept her movements slow and routine, acting as if this was just another morning. As the warmer hummed to life, her mind went into overdrive. Every second mattered. After a moment, she saidfuck itand shifted toward the left side of the kitchen. It was now or never.
“Aye, what the fuck you doing?” Boe barked.
Nivéa’s heart slammed against her ribs, but she kept moving. “Grabbing a burping cloth. I keep some in the cabinet.”
Before he could respond, she reached up and opened the top cabinet door with her right hand. The door momentarily blocked his view, just enough. She heard the couch creak as his weight shifted, and she quickly pressed and held the icon on the panel for two seconds with her left hand.
Snatching the burping cloth, she closed the cabinet and turned around as if nothing had happened. She stepped away, meeting him halfway into the kitchen, cloth in hand. Boe’s eyes dropped to her hands, scanning them cautiously. Seconds dragged as he searched for something sharp and dangerous she could use to attack him with. When he found nothing but the burping cloth, his shoulders eased.
“Stay where the fuck I can see you.” He warned.
“Hm,” Nivéa mumbled, turning back to the counter as if she hadn’t almost passed out from fear.
She grabbed the bottle from the warmer, carefully swirling it while Boe hovered nearby, watching her every move. Once she was finished, and they retreated to the couch, her phone began ringing.
