Page 253 of Invisible Bars

My words skipped like a scratched CD before I caught my breath.

“I’m serious! Now, last but not least—the liquor. Girl, everybody gon’ be drunk before the DJ even plugs his speaker in! Last time he tried to serve ‘jungle juice,’ we needed prayer and Pedialyte.”

I chuckled. “S-see? That’s why we need rules, wristbands,something.”

“Mm-hmm. We gon’ have to Chi-proof this whole damn event. I’m already telling everybody else who plans on bringing a dish, if they show up with anything that sounds like a ‘twist on tradition,’ they’re eating from the kid’s table.”

Dessign was the kind of person who said what everybody else as thinking—but funnier.She was one of those people you just had to love. If you didn’t, you were either a certified hater or just somebody who couldn’t handle real, unfiltered people.

We continued sorting through the plans—game stations, school supply counts, and the DJ schedule.

As Dessign went on about finding someone to donate folding chairs, my mind slowly wandered.

I hadn’t been back to work since the restaurant incident. After being humiliated, wrongly accused, and nearly breaking down in front of a room full of strangers, I just… couldn’t.

Truthfully, after that day, something in me shifted. I kept thinking about what I mentioned to Dessign a while ago—about starting a modeling agency for people with disabilities. I broughtit up to Imanio one night, half-expecting him to shoot it down or ask a million questions. But instead, he just said, “I’ll fund it.”

No hesitation. No strings.

While I appreciated him—truly, deeply—there was an insistent voice echoing in the back of my mind. It urged me to possess something that was entirely my own. Because loving a man like Imanio meant acceptingbothsides of him. And though he treated me like royalty, I had seen how quickly his switch could flip, and I didn’t want to ever wake up one day, lost in his shadow, with nothing to call my own if he ever looked at me differently… or ever regretted choosing me. So the agency? It wasn’t just for the people who needed it; it was for my confidence, peace, and survival.

“Naji, you still there?” Dessign’s voice snapped her back.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. I’m just... thinking.”

“You good?”

“I will be.”

We wrapped up the call a few minutes later, promising to check in again before the week was out.

Just as I reached over to plug in my phone, a new notification popped up.

Messenger: 1 New Message—Chiamaka Ali

It was my sister.

I hadn’t expected to hear from her—at least not that soon.

I stared at the screen, caught somewhere between surprise, curiosity, andcaution.Then I tapped the message open.

Hey, Naji. It’s me. I know I’m probably the last person you expected to hear from... but I had to reach out.

Naji, they lied to me.They told me you chose to stay with Grandma. That you liked it better here. I only found out the truth a year ago.

I stared at the words, blinking back something I didn’t want to call tears.

I’m not mad at you. You didn’t know.I typed back after a long pause.

A minute passed before her next message came in.

Would you be willing to have dinner with me? Just us? No family. Just... sisters?

It was just a message, but it felt like a door I wasn’t sure I was ready to open. Everything in me warred with the hesitation, the memory, the old ache.

But then I typed:

Yeah. I’d like that. I’ll reach back out to you with the date, time, and place.