“He saw me at the bus stop,” I continued, my voice breaking. “And he pulled over. Started asking what I was doing in the Garden District. If I was cleaning houses. If I was?—”
I stopped.
Took a breath.
“And then Destiny threw her drink on me,” I finished quietly. “Strawberry Fanta. Just threw it right in my face and laughed.And when I tried to—when I went for the car, Phillip just drove off.”
Tears were sliding down my cheeks again.
I angrily wiped them away, hating myself for crying, hating Phillip for still having this kind of power over me.
“He took everything,” I said, my voice raw. “The house. The car. The savings account he drained six months before he even filed. He left me with nothing but debt and a credit score in the toilet. And now he’s driving around inmycar withherwearingmysunglasses, and I’m?—”
I broke off.
Covered my face with my hands.
“I’m sitting at a bus stop covered in soda like I’m nobody,” I whispered. “Like I don’t even matter.”
The silence that followed was different.
Heavier.
Colder.
I could feel the shift in the air—the way the temperature seemed to drop, the way the space between us became charged with something dangerous.
I lowered my hands and looked at Amai.
His jaw was tight. His hands were steady on the wheel, but his knuckles were white.
“Does he bother you often?” he asked.
His voice was still calm.
But there was heat underneath it now. Sharp and lethal.
“No,” I said quickly. “I haven’t seen him since the divorce finalized two months ago. I don’t know why he’s fucking with me now. I don’t have anything left for him to take.”
Amai didn’t respond.
Just kept driving, his eyes on the road, his mind clearly somewhere else.
We turned onto St. Claude Avenue, heading deeper into the Seventh Ward.
“Once you sign that contract,” he said quietly, “you’re under my protection.”
I turned to look at him.
“You represent me,” he continued. “Nobody needs to know that. But you do. And I don’t tolerate bullshit. I don’t tolerate anybody fucking with what belongs to me.”
The words hung in the air between us.
Heavy.
Possessive.
Absolute.
