When was the last time you did something just because it felt good?
When was the last time you chose peace instead of responsibility?
When was the last time you didn’t put everyone else first?
That was the problem. My mind could build an entire world out of a single feeling.
I knew that and yet….. I shifted the car into reverse before doubt and fear told total control of my mind. My heart was racing, my palms were damp, and every instinct I had was screamingthis changes things,but I didn’t care.
“I’m on my way,” I said.
And just like that, temptation won.
I almost didn’t pull in.
I drove past the house once, turned the corner, then circled back. My hands were sweating on the steering wheel and my heart was thumping so loud.
When I parked I closed my eyes to say a prayer and my car door opened. I jumped.
“Hey,” he said softly, smiling like he didn’t mean to scare me.
Stacks stood there excited like he’d been waiting for me. He had on a shirt and sweats with his locs pulled back.
“You didn’t have to—” I started.
“I wanted to,” he said, holding his hand out. “You okay?”
I nodded, even though the answer was complicated. He helped me out the car before guiding me into his home.
His house was… beautiful. Everything had a place. It was the kind of space that wasn’t cluttered but nice. It was a small family home, but everything was updated and upscale. On top of that, it smelled like cedar and something citrusy.
“This is nice,” I said, looking around.
He shrugged. “It’s home.”
We walked through slowly, and nothing about it felt performative. He showed me around and it wasn’t in a “let me show you everything I own” way. It felt like he was letting me exist in his space that he’d worked hard for.
We passed a hallway and I noticed a child’s room. The bed was made neatly with basketball trophies on a shelf and framed drawings on the wall.
“You did all this?” I asked.
“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded.
That made me smile. I loved that he was so intentional about even his son’s space. He led me to the back, sliding the patio door open. The patio overlooked a beautiful stretch of trees.
“Most mornings,” he said, pointing, “I’m out here with my laptop and coffee working. It’s quiet, so it helps me think.”
I smiled. “I can see why.”
We sat on opposite ends of the couch. I needed the distance because I was already shaking on the inside. Music played low in the background.
“So,” he said slowly, leaning back. “What kind of day have you had so far?”
I laughed. “You sure you wanna open that door?”
“I wouldn’t have invited you over if I didn’t.”
Something in me cracked and words started spilling out. I talked about feeling invisible. About being tired of being the strong one. About walking into rooms where everyone needed something from me and leaving with nothing left for myself.
