Page 36 of Before I Say I Don’t

Under different circumstances, I would’ve laughed—maybe even doubled over. But not with my mood already tight.

Instead, I sighed and muttered, “Good luck in there, girl,” before turning toward the stairs.

The upstairs bathroom was my only option.

I hated climbing those stairs, especially in heels, but my bladder wasn’t about to negotiate.

On the way there, I cut through the kitchen, and that’s when I saw it—Kendall’s phone.

It was sitting on the island—screen lit up, unlocked, and a video still rolling.

The first time I passed it, I was heading toward the bathroom with my thighs clenched like a toddler, so I breezed right by. My mind was solely focused on relief, and on praying I didn’t pee on myself.

But then it hit me—Kendall never let her phone out of her sight. So she must’ve dropped it there in her rush to the bathroom—too distracted by her deviled-egg disaster to care.

Suddenly, my eagerness to pee seemed to magically vanish.

Instead, something colder took over—curiosity laced with suspicion. Knowing what I knew about her and that Taryn chick, the itch in my brain was louder than my conscience.

Go through it!

Check it!

Now!

My gaze darted around the kitchen. It was empty—not a shadow moving, not a whisper of footsteps.

And that was all the permission I needed.

My fingers twitched, and before I could talk myself out of it, I slid the phone toward me. I was just about to dive into her messages when a notification banner slid across the top of the screen.

Jayla.

I froze.

Jayla? Messaging Kendall?

Those two had never exchanged more than a polite “hi” in front of me.

I tapped the thread open, pulse pounding.

The conversation scrolled back hours… and every word sliced deeper.

Jayla: Girl, I thought I was the only one side-eyeing this whole setup.

She really acting like this wedding about to be some kind of royal gala.

She’s still the same Kam I’ve been babysitting all these years.

All these “boss moves” she brags about, and half of it is smoke and mirrors. I’m bored just sitting here.

Kendall: And that smile? It looks rehearsed. Like she’s practicing for the cover of Delusional Bride Monthly.

Jayla: Lol.

Kendall: And why she let her sister outshine everybody with the gifts? Everything looked staged for Instagram.

Jayla: Girl, Danica’s ass been fake since day one. She run around here like we’re supposed to bow down to her demands. I only came so people wouldn’t talk.

Kendall: Hell, I’m only in the wedding because my brother begged me to. I wonder why she changed the location at the last minute?

Jayla: Who knows? But Kam’s not fooling me. I know it’s another reason than what she said. I’ma find out!

Kendall: Please do!

Jayla: No worries. The higher she climbs, the harder she’s gonna fall.

My eyes tracked the bubbles as they scrolled up the screen, each one sharper than the last.

My stomach knotted, but it wasn’t from nerves; it was from that familiar punch of betrayal that I’d felt one too many times in my life; I just never thought Jayla would be the cause.

Jayla? My best friend? My day one? A shoulder I used to be able to lean on?

That backstabbing hoe was talking about me like I was a stranger she barely tolerated.

Every time Jayla came over while I was buried under an avalanche of deadlines, working long hours, I couldn't shake the feeling that she didn't understand.

In those moments, when I was choking back tears over losses she never witnessed, when she swore she believed in my dreams and ambition—that was what she considered babysitting? Really?

My throat burned with anger.

Kendall was irrelevant. Her barbs and jabs slid off my confidence like rain on glass, leaving no mark. But Jayla? Nah. Her words burrowed deep under my skin like tiny splinters, each whispering that I was a fool to believe she ever clapped for me.

I thought about every late-night phone call, every secret I spilled when I was too tired to hold my walls up, every piece of my heart I laid bare in front of her—convinced she would guard it fiercely—,how I defended her when people side-eyed her, how many rooms I mentioned her name in when opportunities came up, and how many times I chose her over people who had actually earned the right to stand beside me.

And there she was, coldly dissecting my struggles, as if I were nothing but a burden.

High and mighty.

That’s how she viewed me? Not as strong, not as resilient, but just… full of myself.

And that last line she threw at me— "The higher she climbs, the harder she’s gonna fall."

It wasn't mere gossip or just passing shade. It felt like a wish—a dark desire. Jayla was waiting, almost eagerly, for my downfall. Rooting for it, even, as if my failure would somehow validate her own insecurities.

My hands went cold; every bone stiffened as if betrayal had a temperature.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw the phone across the kitchen tile. I wanted to demand answers. But I already knew them.

I snatched my own phone from the coffee table and, with trembling fingers, snapped screenshot after screenshot.

Timestamps. Names. The pettiness in full, uncensored color.

Every single word was scorched into my memory.

I locked Kendall’s phone and placed it back in its original spot.

My smile was gone now, replaced by an icy stillness.

The urge to pee again returned, and that time I felt like I’d be releasing more than urine.

It was anger, shame and heartbreak, all draining out of me in shaky waves.

I sat there longer than necessary, breathing hard, trying to stitch myself back together, but the truth was, no amount of tissue or flush could clear the mess I felt inside.

After I composed myself, I returned outside, and the laughter and chatter from the other women grated on my nerves.

I pressed a hand to my stomach.

“Y’all, I’m not feeling too good,” I fibbed, though my voice carried a tension no one could quite miss—especially Danica, who caught sight of it and immediately noticed the change in my expression.

“I think we’re gonna have to cut the rest of this evening short.”

“Aww, what’s wrong?” and “You okay?” came from Serene and Lena.

Diane blinked once… twice… , like she was trying to read beneath my words, trying to decide if this was a headache, a stomach ache or something else entirely.

Kendall raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

Jayla just sipped her water, nonchalantly.

Danica moved before anyone else could. She got up from her seat and leaned in close, her perfume a sharp burst of jasmine wrapping around me.

“What’s wrong?” she questioned, studying my face like she already knew the answer was ugly.

My lips curved into a smile so faint it was almost dangerous.

“I’ll tell you in a minute,” I murmured back, tone laced with something darker than anger.

She gave a slow, knowing nod, slipping an arm around my shoulder in a casual way so no one could see the tension in her grip.

“Alright, ladies,” Danica addressed, “grab your to-go plates. Party’s over.”

Kendall began glancing around wildly.

“Y’all seen my phone?” she asked.

“Oh, I think you left it in the kitchen… right by the island,” I said, my tone light, almost helpful. “You might wanna grab it before somebody sees something they shouldn’t.”

Kendall’s eyes flickered—wide for just a fraction of a second—before she forced a smirk. But that split-second reaction told me everything I needed to know.

I didn’t even bother to look at Kendall or Jayla again; I had all the evidence I needed—and in my mind, the clock to the perfect public revenge was already ticking.

The patio looked like a party had exhaled too hard—tissue paper spilling from gift bags, champagne glasses abandoned mid-sip, and ribbons tangled at chair legs.

“Alright,” Danica said, after the last person left, heels planted and hands on her hips. “What the fuck happened?”

I didn’t answer; I just flopped onto the couch and shoved my phone at her with the messages open. My hand shook once, but I made it stop.

Danica grabbed the phone, eyes scanning. Her brows climbed, then knitted.

“Hold up… are these texts between Jayla and Kendall?”

“Yes,” I confirmed.

“How did?—”

I proceeded to tell her about my discovery.

When I finished, Danica’s mouth pressed into a hard line.

“So these bitches been texting each other like besties when they won’t even say boo in your presence!

Then they had the audacity to bring my name up in the mix!

” She looked up, eyes gone flinty. “And Jayla said—” Danica stopped herself, jaw flexing.

“Nah. No. I’m not repeating that raggedy energy out loud. ”

Danica tossed the phone onto the couch. “I want to fight! And by ‘fight’ I mean Jayla first! I should’ve known she’s always been stunt-double supportive! Smiles in your face with a ‘congrats’ and a plate!”

I swallowed. “My best friend, though?” The words hurt coming out. “Damn. She hates me? Why?”

Danica’s expression softened momentarily… then the savage came back.

“Wipe those tears, sis! That bitch isn’t your friend… probably never was! Proximity is not loyalty, and attendance is not love. People like that will clap for your soft launch and boo your boundaries.”

My eyes burned anyway. “I just—I want to call the wedding off. I’m over this… all of it.”

“The hell you will!” she snapped, moving closer. “And not because of the money… but principle ! That nigga and those bitches gotta pay! You think we’re handing out unearned grace after they sat up in here eating croissants and text-bashing you from the patio? Absolutely not!”

I stared at the ceiling so tears wouldn’t fall. “Danica?—”

“Kam, no !” she interrupted, pointing at the floor, “Now, a week ago, I would’ve done cartwheels if you said it’s off! Not today! Today we stick to the plan and hit ‘em where it hurts—in public, with the truth, under good lighting. You don’t run; you reveal ! ”