Next morning.

The apartment was unnervingly quiet when Mara left the bedroom the next morning and went about making breakfast. Then the door unlocked and turned. In came Hugh.

Hugh looked up at Mara as he walked in with a mug of coffee cooling between his hands. "Morning," he said carefully, searching her face for clues. "You okay?"

Guilt hit her with surprising force. She had expected anger, suspicion—something that would justify the knot in her stomach. Instead, he was just... Hugh. Patient. Worried.

"I'm fine," she lied.

He stood, crossing the room with the hesitant caution of someone approaching a frightened animal. "If I did something yesterday, tell me. I'm sorry."

The apology landed like a slap.

You didn't do anything, she thought. I did.

But saying that out loud would shatter everything.

"You don't have to apologize all the time," she muttered.

Hugh gave a weak smile. "I know. I just hate it when we're not okay."

That was the problem. He was always trying to fix things, even when they weren't his fault. It had become so predictable and she'd stopped noticing.

She hugged him, less out of affection than self-preservation. If he held her tightly enough, maybe he wouldn't notice how rigid she'd become.

His phone buzzed somewhere in the living room. He ignored it.

"Want me to make pancakes," he said. "That might help."

She almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Pancakes. As if syrup could drown out what she'd done the night before.

Later, after Hugh left for work, Mara sat alone on the edge of the bed. Full of pancakes and regret. Her own phone lit up.

Dre: You alive?

Her thumb hovered over the screen.

She could delete the message. Block the number. Pretend the whole thing had never happened.

For the first time, she realized the decision she made next would matter more than the one she'd already made. Cynthia had assured her silence. Mara had a potentially clean slate.

She went grocery shopping. She chose Hugh and was going to make his favorite dinner and go all in on their relationship.

__

That night however when she made love to Hugh she couldn’t help but think he didn’t fill her up nearly as much as Dre. He didn’t know how to move her around as much as Dre. He didn’t love as deeply as Dre. Mara knew deep down. She might not be done with Dre.

Mara couldn’t sleep and as she was thinking of Dre her phone lit up. Hugh was deep asleep so Mara read it.

Dre: “Ight bitch, you’ll come to your senses and when you do. I know you’ll be crawling back to me. Imma make you beg. Peace nigga”

Mara’s knot returned. Fuck. Deep down, she knew he was right. She had gotten a flavor of black cock and she knew eventually, sooner or later, she would want it again.