I couldn’t see the road through my tears. Everything blurred into streaks of red lights, headlights, and shadows as I sped down the empty streets, crying so hard my chest physically hurt. I understood why Kairo was angry. But at the same time… I didn’t understand where I had gone wrong.
For years I had been told: Choose yourself. Speak up for your needs. Stop abandoning your feelings. Stop shrinking. So I finally did. I finally put Khloe first. And somehow… I ended up more broken than I had ever been.
A sob ripped out of me as my foot pressed harder on the gas. I wasn’t thinking about slowing down. I wasn’t thinking about calming down. I wasn’t thinking about anything except the fact that my life felt like it had just exploded in my hands. Everything was messy, complicated, and ugly.
I grabbed my phone with shaking fingers and called Stacks. It rang and went to voicemail. I called again. And again. And again.
“Come on…” I whispered through tears. “Please answer.”
Nothing. I checked the time. It was almost two in the morning. He should’ve answered. He always answered. I hit call again and it went to voicemail.
My breathing became uneven, panic creeping into my chest. The light turned red and I slammed on the brakes, stopping in the middle of the empty intersection.
I called again and it went straight to voicemail. Something inside me snapped.
“ANSWER THE FUCKING PHONE!” I screamed, throwing the phone onto the passenger floor before dropping my forehead against the steering wheel.
I cried so hard my shoulders shook. I didn’t know the light turned green until a car behind me laid on their horn. I jumped, wiped my face blindly, and drove forward.
I just needed to see him. I had hurt him. I had hurt my husband. I had destroyed everything trying to convince myself I could balance two worlds. My mind told me I was managing it, but my heart knew I was lying.
I drove straight to his house. When I pulled up, my chest tightened. His car was in the driveway and not in the garage like it usually was when I wasn’t there. I ignored that and parked anyway.
My hands trembled as I walked toward the side window of his bedroom. I knew his son was there, so I wasn’t trying to go inside. I just needed to talk. I knocked softly on the glass. Once I heard movement, I walked back toward the front door just as it opened.
Stacks stood there holding a gun. I gasped, stepping back, and he immediately lowered it when he recognized me.
“What the fuck, Khloe?” he said, shocked. “What are you doing here?”
The tears started again. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I just… I needed to talk.”
He rubbed his eyes, clearly just waking up. “You okay?”
“No,” I said honestly. “I just really need to talk right now.”
He hesitated and that hesitation felt… wrong.
“Right now ain’t a good time,” he said, lowering his voice.
“I know your son is here,” I rushed out. “I don’t have to come inside. We can talk outside.”
He took a long breath. He was thinking and weirdly quiet. Something felt off. Then I heard footsteps.
A woman’s voice drifted toward the door. “Baby… who’s at the door?”
My heart stopped. A woman appeared behind him wrapped in nothing but a sheet. Everything inside me went cold. His head dropped slightly like he already knew there was nothing he could say.
He turned, kissed her forehead and said calmly, “It’s just a friend. Go back to bed. I’ll be there in a minute.”
She nodded, kissed his lips, and disappeared down the hallway. I felt something inside me shatter so quietly it almost scared me. More tears slid down my face. He stepped outside, closing the door behind him.
My voice was trembling but strangely calm. “Who the fuck is that?”
He dragged a hand down his face. “A young lady I’ve been seeing… for a few weeks.”
I nodded slowly trying to hold myself together. Trying not to look as hurt as I felt.
“Khloe… don’t do that,” he said softly.
