Alexis walked into the living room and turned to face me, her arms crossed over her chest. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I know.”
“For three weeks, Amai. Three weeks of barely responding to my texts, canceling plans, acting like I don’t exist.” Her voice was steady, but I could hear the hurt underneath. “So, either tell me what’s going on or tell me we’re done. But don’t keep stringing me along like this.”
I respected that. The directness. The refusal to play games or pretend everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t.
“You’re right,” I said. “I have been avoiding you. And that’s not fair to you.”
She waited, her eyes locked on mine.
I took a breath. “This isn’t working. Not because of anything you did—you’ve been nothing but good to me. But I can’t give you what you deserve. I can’t be what you need me to be.”
“Because of her,” Alexis said quietly.
I went still. “What?”
“The woman you’re always thinking about. The one who makes you check your phone every five minutes. The one who’s got you so distracted you can barely hold a conversation.” She tilted her head slightly. “I’m not stupid, Amai. I know when a man’s heart is somewhere else.”
I didn’t deny it. Couldn’t.
“I’m sorry,” I said, and I meant it. “You deserve better than this. Better than me.”
Alexis’s expression softened slightly, something like resignation settling over her features. “You know what’s funny? I actually thought—” She stopped herself, shook her head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter now.”
“Alexis—”
The front door opened.
I turned, expecting Priest or maybe Kaisen showing up unannounced. But the woman who walked through my door like she owned the place wasn’t either of them.
Yahmaria.
She was wearing all black—fitted pants, silk blouse, and heels that clicked against the hardwood floor with each deliberate step. Her hair was longer than the last time I’d seen her, falling in loose waves past her shoulders. She looked good. She always looked good. That had never been the problem.
She stopped in the doorway to the living room and smiled. Not a warm smile. The kind of smile that said she knew exactly what she was interrupting and was enjoying every second of it.
“Amai,” she said, her voice smooth as honey and twice as dangerous. “Baby. I’ve been trying to reach you.”
My entire body went cold.
From upstairs, I heard footsteps. Then Syx appeared at the top of the stairs, took one look at the scene unfolding below, and said exactly what I was thinking: “Ah hell. It’s about to be some shit nah.”
Alexis was staring at Yahmaria with confusion and something that looked like dawning horror. “Who is she?”
Yahmaria’s smile widened. She walked further into the room, her movements unhurried, confident, claiming space like she’d never left. She stopped a few feet from Alexis and extended her hand like they were meeting at a cocktail party.
“I’m his wife,” she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Yahmaria Landry.”
The silence that followed was absolute.
Alexis’s face went through a series of expressions—shock, disbelief, hurt, anger—all in the span of three seconds. She looked at me, her eyes wide. “Yourwife?”
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. My mind was racing through a thousand calculations at once—how Yahmaria hadgotten in, why she was here now, what this meant for Truth, for the baby, for everything I’d been trying to build.
“You didn’t tell her?” Yahmaria asked, turning to me with mock surprise. “Amai, that’s not very gentlemanly of you. Leading this poor woman on when you’re still legally married.”
“We’re separated,” I said, my voice flat and cold. “Have been for two years because your ass won’t sign the fuckin’ papers.”
