Page 43 of Certified Pressure 2

Trill-Land, Jungle estate

Y ou wanna tell him why you really here… or you want me to? Kashmere’s words were echoing in my mind, sharp and merciless, like she had pulled the rug right out from under me.

My heart was racing so fast I could feel it in my ears.

Pressure was standing there, his eyes bouncing between us, trying to piece together what the fuck this was even about.

Renza and Blaqson had just broken us apart, but the tension was still running wild, stretching so thick across the foyer I thought I might suffocate under it.

Kashmere wasn’t letting up. Her chest was rising quick, her face streaked with tears, but her eyes burned like fire when she locked them on me. “Be honest, Pluto,” she said, her voice low but cutting. “Tell him the truth.”

I froze. Every instinct in me wanted to defend myself, but fear wrapped itself around my throat. She was about to spin this whole thing in a way that made me look like the worst person alive.

Pressure’s brow was furrowed, his body tense, waiting. Renza shook his head slowly, muttering something under his breath, and Blaqson’s wide eyes told me he already knew Kash was about to drop a bomb.

I swallowed hard. “Kash, stop.”

She laughed bitterly and reached into her purse.

“Nah, you don’t get to hide behind this fake ass innocent act no more.

Not after all this.” Her fingers dug until she pulled out her phone, unlocking it quick, angry taps.

“You wanna play victim now, like I’m the one who came for you, but let’s keep it a hundred. You said what you said.”

Pressure’s eyes snapped to me, sharp with confusion. “What the fuck she talkin’ about, Pluto?”

I shook my head, my tears already spilling. “It’s not what you think, Pressure. I swear?—”

Kash cut me off, scrolling through her messages. “Don’t try to spin it now. Let me remind you what you told me yourself.” She tapped the screen and lifted her phone like it was a weapon.

The air in the room felt heavy as she read aloud. “‘I wouldn’t even be going to that mansion if I didn’t need the money for Zurie.’”

The words hit me like a slap, sharp and cold, because I knew I had said them.

At the time, it was the truth. I needed that money.

Zurie needed surgery, and I was desperate.

But standing here now, with Pressure staring at me like his whole world just flipped, the words sounded cruel and incriminating, like I had been playing him from the start.

Tears streamed down my face so hard I could barely see, but I forced myself to look at him. His jaw clenched as he swallowed hard, his eyes darkening like it hurt just to process what he’d heard. He didn’t speak, but he didn’t have to. His silence was louder than anything.

I could see it in his face—the puzzle pieces clicking together in a way that broke him.

All the times he’d pulled up on me, all the flights he took, all the nights we spent wrapped up together, him making love to me and whispering promises, him asking me to marry him while he was inside me—it all suddenly looked different to him.

Like maybe it wasn’t love on my end, like maybe it was a transaction.

“No,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Pressure, it’s not like that. I love you. I wouldn’t have left Zurie in the hospital if I didn’t. I wouldn’t be here if it was just about money. Please believe me.”

He stared at me, his eyes glassy, his chest rising heavy. For a moment, I thought he was gonna say something, but he didn’t. He just looked, like there was a whole war going on inside him and he couldn’t pick a side.

Flashes ran through my mind so fast I almost staggered.

Him showing up at my door when I didn’t expect it, the way he looked at me like I was his whole world, the way he held me through nights where I felt like I was breaking apart.

Him begging me to come home with him, and me giving him excuse after excuse.

Him inside me, whispering he wanted me forever.

All of it felt like it was being ripped away, moment by moment, by the weight of one damn message.

Renza put his head down and shook it, his hands pressed to his knees. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath.

Blaqson’s eyes were wide, disbelief written all over his face. He looked from me to Pressure, then back again, like he couldn’t believe we had just reached this point.

Kashmere lowered her phone, her voice calmer now but still sharp. “So, there it is. You hear it from her own words. She ain’t here for you, Pressure. She here ’cause she needed something. I might be wild, I might be a lot, but at least I ain’t lie about who I was. Make your decision.”

Her words landed like daggers, and I could feel my knees weaken under the weight of them. I turned to Pressure again, desperate and broken. “I’m not using you. Yes, I needed help, but I didn’t fall in love with you by accident. I love you, Pressure. Please don’t let her make you think different.”

He still didn’t move. His eyes stayed locked on me, full of pain, full of questions, full of disappointment. There was so much he wanted to say—I could see it in his face…but the words wouldn’t come.

Renza finally stepped in, his voice firm. “Both of y’all need to calm the fuck down. Let this man breathe. He just got hit with some shit, and he need time to process.”

Kashmere crossed her arms, her eyes never leaving me, while Blaqson shook his head like he was done with all of it.

But Pressure… he just kept staring. He was silent, but bleeding on the inside. And I stood there, tears pouring down my face, knowing I had fucked up in a way I might not be able to fix.

“Pressure!” I cried as I ran behind him.

My chest was burning, my face wet with tears I couldn’t stop, and I didn’t care who saw me fall apart.

Pressure’s back was to me as he moved toward the elevator, his steps slow but final, like he had already made up his mind.

Renza and Blaqson tried to step in front of me, their hands reaching out like they were about to block me, but I shook them off and screamed, “Move! Don’t fucking touch me!

” The desperation in my voice startled even me, but I didn’t care.

I lunged into the elevator just before the doors slid shut.

My body pressed against his, my hands reaching for him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“Please,” I sobbed, grabbing his face between my palms. His skin was warm but rigid under my touch, and his eyes… his eyes were cold.

“Pressure, look at me,” I begged, my words breaking apart with every breath. “Please don’t do this. Don’t shut me out like this.”

But he wouldn’t move. He stood there like a statue, his gaze fixed on the numbers above the doors as the elevator climbed. His chest rose and fell hard, his jaw locked, and the silence between us screamed louder than my tears.

I pressed my forehead to his, shaking, crying all over him. “I know I hurt you, I know what Kashmere read sounded bad, but you gotta believe me. I love you. I swear I love you. I wouldn’t have left Zurie in that hospital if it wasn’t real. I wouldn’t be here if this was just about money.”

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t blink. He was right in front of me but felt a million miles away.

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open to his floor. He walked out without a word, and I followed, chasing him into his room. The moment we were inside, I slammed the door behind me and twisted the lock, leaning against it like if I kept the world out, maybe I could keep him with me.

“Talk to me!” I pleaded, running to him as he moved across the room. I grabbed his arm, clinging to him like I was drowning. “Pressure, please, don’t walk away from me.”

He spun around so fast I gasped, his voice slicing through me. “Get the fuck off me, Pluto!”

The sound of his anger made my knees weak.

My hands slipped from his arm, falling helpless at my sides, but my tears kept coming.

I watched as he walked over to his bar, his movements harsh, his shoulders tight.

He grabbed the bottle, poured himself a shot, then another, then another.

He knocked them back quick, his throat bobbing with every swallow, like he was trying to drown the pain I’d put inside him.

I stood there, shaking, as he moved to his nightstand and picked up a half-lit blunt. He lit it, the flame glowing against his face for a second before he pulled in deep and blew smoke out slow. The room filled with the thick, heavy scent, and all I could do was cry harder.

He leaned back against the wall, dragging on the blunt again, his eyes closing as if he was trying to shut me out completely. This was the man who used to whisper love into my soul, who used to look at me like I was his whole world, and now he wouldn’t even give me his eyes.

When the blunt was down to nothing, he dropped it, exhaled hard, and walked straight into his bathroom. My chest tightened when I heard him coughing, his hand pressing against his chest like he was in pain. He stripped down quick, his clothes hitting the floor, and stepped into the shower.

I hesitated for all of two seconds before following him.

The sound of the water hit my ears, harsh and relentless. He stood under it, his hands pressed to the tile, his head bowed as water streamed down his face. And then I saw the tears mixing with the water, sliding down his cheeks.

Pressure was crying…

My legs almost gave out at the sight because I had never seen it before. This wasn’t the man who broke down. He was always the strong one, the one who carried everything, the one who kept his emotions locked away. But now, under the water, he was broken, and it was because of me.

Without thinking, I stepped into the shower fully clothed, my hair plastered against my face and my clothes clung heavy to my skin, but none of it mattered. I walked straight into him and wrapped my arms around his back, pulling him into me.

He stiffened at first, but then his head lowered onto my shoulder. His body trembled as he finally let go, burying his face into me while the water poured over both of us. I held him tighter, rubbing his back in circles, my tears mixing with the spray.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered over and over. “I’m so sorry. You mean everything to me, Pressure. I never wanted to hurt you. I love you. Please believe me. Please.”

His shoulders shook against me, but he still didn’t speak. His silence was louder than anything I’d ever heard.

I pulled back enough to cup his face, lifting his head so he had to look at me.

His eyes were red, his lashes wet, and the pain in them stabbed straight through my heart.

I pressed my lips to his, desperate, trying to kiss the hurt away, but he didn’t respond.

His mouth stayed still under mine, his body cold even as water poured down on us.

I pulled back slowly, searching his face for some kind of sign, but all I saw was devastation.

“Please don’t give up on me,” I whispered, my hands still on his face. “Please, Pressure. I need you.”

But he didn’t move. He didn’t answer. He just stood there, broken, and I knew there weren’t enough words in the world to fix what I had done.