My phone rings, breaking my focus.
“Fuck, my phone’s ringing, gang.”
“Nigga, call them back. I cannot clutch this match on my own. I’m over here shaking like a stripper.”
“You always the last one alive and still ain’t learn nothing. Get your shit together, bro,” I say, laughing.
“Keep laughing and imma throw this whole match.”
“Go ahead, bitch boy. YOU can’t clutch without the kid. I got a whole gallery full of clips to prove I can.”
“What you girls be saying? Get blocked!”

Movement near my left ear stops me from retorting.
“Wow, y’all really gonna unsub for Carys?? That’s crazy, chat, I th—”
“Nigga hush. I hear someone moving. Check cams.”
“I don’t think we got any drones left, C. Cams been shot too.”
“Aight. I think they up here with me. What you got left?”
“I got my C4. That’s it.”
“You trust me?”
“Man yes. With yo dramatic ass.”
“Detonate that C4. Pick a GOOD SPOT and hold an angle. Imma try to flank ‘em.”

The last two ops, completely unaware of my presence, pass by my doorframe as I give Carson the gameplan. A few seconds later, a blast goes off. I shotgun the nearest hatch, using the noise as cover.

Perfectly positioned between the landing of the steps and the entrance of the objective site, I decide to hold an angle here instead of flanking straight.
“I got eyes on them, headed your way. Pinning the one closer to you.”

My phone rings again—count lost somewhere in the double digits. Gunshots pull my attention back to the game.
“Shit. I’m knocked,” yells Carson.

I drop the hatch, cock my shotty, and let go three shots into op’s backs.
“Good shit. The other one ran into the room I pinned when you started shooting. No visuals, no movement.”

I check the other openings before running over to the pinned doorway. Just out of frame but close enough that op 2 would hear, I switch to my secondary, letting off a few pre-fire rounds. I sit and wait, hoping they’ll take the bait. Nothing.

I quietly head to revive Carson. “I got you, bro.”
“POP. Hold it down.”
“Follow me.”
I pin the spot I was just sitting in. “Crouch right here, not too close or they’ll see you. Imma head back to the hatch.”
“Bet.”
“Pre-fire a lil.”

Carson lets off some shots as I creep up the stairs.
I stand up, ready to run to the hatch, possibly creating another distraction when I hear movement.
“I think he’s at the hatch, bro. Watch yo back.”

Gunshots followed by Carson’s death notice popping up confirm my suspicions. I run toward the gunfire, catching a headshot as op jumps the hatch.

I stand up, flexing my arms as I grip my controller firmly.
“YEAHHHHH NIGGA. FUCK YOU THOUGHT.”
“YEAHHHHH BRO. W’s in the chat for Carys.”
“Thank you, thank you. I do it for the people.”
“Mannn, shut yo ass up. Stealing my community right from under me.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Run another one, I’m finna roll up.”
“Give me a second, I forgot about my pizza and shit. Muhfucka prolly burnt and cold now.”
“Shit, I might order me something.”

I grab my tray and phone. Twelve missed calls, eighteen messages. I dial Selah while texting my mom.
Hey ma, didn’t see you call on the game. I’m good though. I miss you too. Call me in AM. Love you.

I roll my eyes as the phone goes to voicemail again. I open our text thread, quickly scanning through sixteen attitude-riddled messages Selah left me. I sigh. Here we go.

Man stop ignoring my calls. I was on the game.

I finish rolling up before trying her phone again. Voicemail. Again.
Whatever. Not in the mood for this. Call me when you stop having an attitude.

I switch over to Dinlivery.
“You ready, hoe?”
“Almost. I don’t know what to get.”
“What you in the mood for?”
“No clue, gang. Not really hung up on anything.”
“Fuck it, get some pizza then.”
“Nah.”
“So you don’t wanna twin with me? That’s crazy.”
“Boy, bye. Ouuuu, imma get me some sushi.”
“Send me some too.”
“I’ll send you some when you clutch a match.”
“That’s cold, gang.”

I chuckle and submit my order.
“Aight, start that up, bro.” My phone vibrates as I light my spliff. I take a few pulls before even checking it.

Order me something too. I’m spending the night.

I smile, hearting the message. I send her a screenshot of my order.

You ever ate here before? Pick something you got 10 mins.
Yeah, let me get the spicy miso ramen with some fried veggie dumplings and chashu chicken.
Oh? So they food good? Imma get one for me too.

“G, you got five seconds before they pick an operator for you.”
“My bad, brodie.”
“Hoe, is you blushing? I can hear that smile in your voice.”
“Man, watch out. Mind yo business.”
“Damnnn, you hear that chat? Carys cheating.”

The doorbell startles me. I check my phone.
I’m outside.

I like her message.
“Watch my back, bro.”

I rush to open the door, pulling her in for a hug before she can even say hi.
“I missed you too.” I pull back, giving her a kiss as I grab her bag.
“Quite the greeting.”
“Well, you’re quite the woman. Sorry about the missed calls.”
“It’s okay. I just wanted to hear your voice. Figured I could come over and chill while you play instead of throwing a fit.”
“You are always welcomed here.”

I throw her bag on my bed. Headphones already back on, I sit in my chair. I light the spliff, passing it along with my phone.
“They should be here soon.”

“Who you talking to?” I hear Carson’s nosy ass buzzing in my ear.
“My girl.”
“Ahhhhh. Sooo you getting two types of fish tonight?”
“Yeah, while you eating burnt pizza.”

“Food’s here. Don’t worry I’ll get it.” Selah hands me my phone as she heads towards the door. Something about the ‘don’t worry I’ll get it’ sounded a bit sarcastic Was it? I try to shake away the thought, choosing to focus on the game.

The aroma of good food fills the room as she unpacks it.
“You want me to wait for you? How long you gonna play for?”
“You don’t have to wait for me babygirl” I respond without turning around.
“Great.”

 Ok… I’m definitely not imagining that. Selah heads to the kitchen

“My food just came bro. This gonna be my last game.” I say into the microphone
“I knew you was finna leave me for some kewchie. After all we been through”
“You know you play too much” I chuckle “We can run something up whenever you ready.”
“I’on ever hesitate to hit your phone gang you know this”
“You sure don’t” I tease

I say goodbye to Carson and his chat before switching to TvTime, I turn to Selah handing her my controller. “Why don’t you choose? Anything you want to watch I’m down”

I take a bite of my food as she starts up some romance reality show. I roll my eyes like I won’t be just as invested in this nonsense as she is.

I turn to Selah, rubbing her thigh. “You good, baby?”
She nods, stuffing her face. I smile, admiring her for a bit before turning back to the screen.

Despite how hard I try to focus, my mind drifts mid-episode. The glow from the screen doesn’t warm the cold knot tightening in my chest — the silent weight of the unaddressed problems, the calls I ignored. I wonder if it’s because it’s early? Maybe she doesn’t want to rehash problems that aren’t that serious? In all honesty I prefer to just move on from it you mean act like it never happened

SHUT UP 

Maybe tonight, I’ll try to speak on it. You know, try to smooth things out. Communication is important. I don’t want to build our relationship on a shaky foundation.

 I don’t want to push this one away
A voice I often silence whispers in the back of my mind, once again.

I readjust my bonnet as I pad barefoot into the kitchen.
Morning light filters through the blinds, casting stripes across the floor. 

There’s a feeling under my skin, like a buzz, vibrating almost. It’s not the wine, or the sex that came after — it’s from Selah, the way she looks at me. As if I’m some kind of masterpiece only she can interpret. If the sex wasn’t an indicator that look– that look definitely was. The conversation went really well, and I think for the first time in a long while, I can have a love I don’t have to run from.

And I allow myself to pretend — just for a second — that I’ve found peace.

Selah is already there, leaning against the counter like she owns the place. Shit, the way she put it down last night, I’m ‘bout ready to cut her a key. She’s eating a peach with her bare hands, the juice trailing down her wrist — sticky, golden, slow. It catches my eye, stirring up flashes from last night. I can’t help but to bite my lip.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” Her voice is soft, teasing. “You were snoring”

“I do not snore,” I scoff, grinning in spite of myself.

“Okay. You purr, then.”

We fall into easy laughter, and for a moment, it’s almost normal — light, domestic. Easy.

But then Selah’s gaze lingers too long. “You dream about me?”

I open the fridge “After the moves you showed me last night. It would be a crime not to” I grab a bottle of water.

“Hmm.” Her hand slides around my waist, the other gently tilting my chin. “You liked that?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe yes or maybe no?”

The mood shifts — subtle, but real. Like a note held just a beat too long.

“Maybe yes baby, I’m just teasing. No need to worry” I reassure her, kissing her lightly

Selah laughs, but there’s a flicker of something colder in her eyes. “Mm. Convenient.”

There it is again. 

She says something normal, sometimes even playful but there’s this underlying feeling I just can’t put my finger on. …It’s nothing.

 Just Selah being Selah. I tell myself in an attempt to self-soothe, even as my fingers tighten around the water bottle.

We sit together at the kitchen table, legs tangled underneath. Selah scrolls through her phone while I doodle absently in the corner of an unopened planner — half a flower, the shape of someone’s shoulder, the curve of a familiar smile – Selah, of course.

“Therapy later?” Selah asks, not looking up.

“Yeah.”

“You gonna finally talk about the stuff you keep dodging?”

I stiffen, then shrug. “I talk.”

“Babe. You talk around things.”

There’s no heat in Selah’s tone — that’s what makes it worse. She says it like she knows, like she’s already read every page of my story and decided it needs editing.

“I’m doing my best,” I mumble.

Selah hums, unreadable. “Sure. Just don’t act surprised when your therapist calls you out again.”

It lands somewhere between a joke and a jab? Maybe. I force a chuckle but don't meet her eyes.

Inside, I feel like I’m unraveling. Just barely losing my mind — quietly, politely. Selah never yells, never hits, never does anything you can point to and say “that’s wrong.” But still, I feel like I’m shrinking somewhat, piece by piece.

And yet… I’m comfortable here.

I’m in therapy. I’m getting out of bed. I’m even looking for a job now. I’m not clinging to ghosts or staring at sketches made by someone I haven't seen in years.

I’m doing fine... I have to be.
I have Selah.

So why does it still feel off — like something’s missing?