Page 154 of Invisible Bars

“Naji, you gotta chill. I know that’s easier said than done sometimes because most, if not all the time, you can’t control what comes out of your mouth. But you can’t be blurting shit like that out in the open… especially in an alley. Somebody gon’ think we’re kidnapping you.”

“Can’t do that; y-you already did!” I quipped, with a simpering smile.

That actually made him laugh.

“Yeah. Okay. Next time, I’m disguising yo’ ass as a nun and slippin’ you in through the damn laundry cart.”

I wiped my eyes, still giggling.

“T-Tell them I come with disclaimers—random outbursts, unpredictable twitches, and… and a tendency to say wild stuff at the worst times.”

I slid into the backseat, the plush interior instantly cooling my legs. The moment the doors shut, the tinted world of luxury swallowed us.

“I feel like I s-should be wearing shades and holding a Pomeranian with a d-d-diamond collar,” I mumbled.

Imanio reached over and gently adjusted my seatbelt. “Ms. Shirley got a toy version at the house if you wanna play the part.”

We both laughed, the tension of the visit finally fading.

“T-thanks for standing up for me, though.”

“No problem. I got you. I’m not about to let folks mess with yo’ head more than life already does.”

I raised a brow. “You mean… that sweet lil’ moment in there wasn’t about protecting your secret wife?”

“Maybe both.” Imanio replied, staring out his window.

I rolled my eyes. I knew better than to expect one hundred percent honesty from him. But then, as if he plucked the thought straight from my head, he turned to me—his voice low, steady.

“Naji, I can’t protect you from everything… but I’ll damn sure try. I don’t like seeing you treated like some fragile person. You’re not. You just need people whoget it.”

“L-like you?” I asked, quiet but direct.

He held my gaze, then gave a slow nod. “Yeah… like me.”

I didn’t respond—not out loud. But something in me did. Loud and clear.

“Hmph—marry me again, but this time on purpose.”The words jerked out of me with a tic, my eyes blinking fast.

I closed my eyes in embarrassment, but when I peeked one open, he was still looking at me as if I was something to keep safe, not something to fix.

It was the evening of the much-anticipated dinner, and I found myself nestled in a plush chair in one of the elegantly decorated spare rooms, wrapped in a robe that felt a little too luxurious for my jittery nerves. The fabric was soft and warm, yet the price tag lingered like an unwelcome reminder of the glamor that surrounded me.

I was in the midst of a transformation. Dessign had effortlessly summoned an entire glam squad, much like a fairy godmother on wheels. Their arrival was all thanks to Imanio’s seemingly bottomless bank account, which could make anything possible.

Hair, makeup, wardrobe—everything handled like I was some VIP on a tight deadline.

A woman I didn’t know stood behind me, curling my hair with quick, practiced hands.

I was nervous, and my thoughts wouldn’t sit still. Every pass of the curling iron felt like another reminder that wasn’t just any dinner; that wasthedinner. The one where everything would change—where I’d meet the woman who raised Imanio, sit across from her andtryto hold it all together without falling apart. But under all that fear, tucked deep beneath the jitters, was something else too.

Excitement.

Not loud or bold, but quiet.

A part of me wanted to look good.

Not for them. Not even for Imanio. But forme.