Page 40

ROYAL

The Grammy’s

M arried life hit different when you married the right one.

Every morning, I woke up with Averi next to me, her leg tangled in mine, her bonnet halfway off, breath a little disrespectful—but still the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

It reminded me that somehow, I’d managed to lock down the baddest, smartest, most soulful woman I’d ever known.

And I thanked God for her every single day.

And tonight, we were walking into the fuckin’ Grammys. Our first red carpet appearance together as husband and wife. My first time at the Grammys period. But Averi had been an old pro as she liked to brag about, making me feel comfortable about what I was about to walk into.

I’d been nominated four times for Concrete Roses.

With nominations for Best Hip-Hop Album, Best Rap Performance (for 5AM), Best Collaboration (for Shotgun Kisses ft.

Heaven) and Best Recording Package (shout out to my visual team) And my wife?

My baby was nominated for Producer of the Year for her work on Concrete Roses.

Averi came through in this deep sapphire blue gown with a slit so high I had to fight the urge to put her over my shoulder and carry her home.

The bodice hugged every curve, diamonds dancing across her collarbone and wrists, the most important one sitting pretty and shining on her left hand.

Hair slicked into a low ponytail and smelling like heaven.

I was in a custom navy velvet Tom Ford tux, shades on, ring on my finger. No stylist could’ve topped the feeling of having her hand in mine. And when we hit that carpet? Yeah. That was our moment.

Camera flashes and Reporters firing off questions. “Royal, Averi—how does it feel being here together, newlyweds and nominated?” the reporter from E! News asked.

Averi smiled that shy smile of hers, then leaned into the mic. “It’s surreal. A dream come true for both of us, but even more special that we get to share it together.”

I added, “This whole album was born out of our connection. The heartbreak, the growth, the love… all of it’s in the music.

So, to be here tonight, with her by my side?

It’s a full-circle blessing.” The interviewer asked how marriage had been so far.

I smirked, looking at Ave. “Let’s just say the honeymoon still ain’t over. ”

She rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face said everything.

Inside the arena, everything felt electric.

When I won Best Rap Performance for 5AM, my first-ever Grammy, I was shocked into silence.

That track meant everything to me—my pain, my healing, my tribute to King and to think it almost didn’t even make the album.

I walked up to the stage, palms sweaty but heart steady as loud cheers rang around me.

“Wow. This is wild.” I said. “I wrote 5AM on a night I couldn’t sleep.

Missing my brother. Blaming myself for what happened, on a downward spiral.

Music saved me. This song saved me. Thank you to my team, to LA Records Lux and Logan, to my manager to Kylei…

but most of all to my family. And to King—this one’s for you, bro. We made it.”

The applause was thunderous. Back in my seat, Averi kissed me so hard I forgot where I was.

“You did that, baby,” she whispered in my ear. “Congratulations.”

“I’m just getting started,” I whispered back. “This one going on the shelf right next to yours.”

“You still got three more categories to get through, might need to get a bigger shelf.”

The second win came for Best Collaboration with Heaven. We walked up on the stage together to accept the award, and I let her do the talking as I was too shocked to even comprehend what was happening. That record was fire, and the award felt well earned.

Then came the big one. Best Hip-Hop Album. The whole room seemed to pause when they opened that envelope. And when they said, “Royal – Concrete Roses”, everything blurred.

I stood. Hands shaking. Heart pounding. People clapping. Patting my back. Averi looking at me like she’d never been prouder in her life. She kissed me before I walked up there. And when I took that mic, I let the moment wash over me.

“This… this is crazy. I didn’t think I would win once, but three times…

man this means everything,” I said, looking out at the crowd.

“This album wasn’t just music—it was therapy.

It was heartbreak. It was losing my brother and almost losing myself in the process.

” I paused, looking down at the award, then back up.

“Shout out to the one who gave me the push I needed—my beautiful wife. When we first met, I was clownin’ her thinking what the fuck—aw shit, I ain’t mean to curse.

” The crowd laughed. “Anyway, I was like what does an actress know about making music. Little did I know right? Concrete Roses as it is wouldn’t exist without her.

Her pen, her ear, her heart. Congrats baby we got another one,” then I grinned.

“And that ass looks good in that dress—I can’t wait to take it off you. ”

The audience lost it.

Laughter, whistles, cheers.

Averi ducked her head in the crowd, face buried in her hands, trying to hide behind the sparkly wedding ring she was lowkey flashing.

Back at our table, she leaned over and whispered, “You are so lucky I love you.”

“I know,” I smirked. “But I wasn’t playing, that dress coming off as soon as we get home.”

Later that night, The LA Records after-party was a vibe. They booked out Delilah in West Hollywood, and the whole squad was there. I sat with my arm around Averi, sipping Henny, surrounded by love, light, and legacy.

Logan dapped me. Kylei and Lux gave me hugs congratulating me on my success at the awards. Everyone in the room felt like family. At one point, I just leaned back, looked around, and soaked it all in.

Then Logan tapped his glass, grinning like he was up to something. “Alright y’all—quiet down for a second. Our girl Averi has a few words.”

I turned to her, confused. Averi didn’t like attention unless it was in a studio or behind a soundboard. She looked at me for half a second, then stepped forward, raising her glass. And just like that… the entire room faded except her.

“This won’t be long,” she said, voice calm but confident. “But I couldn’t let tonight go by without saying something about the man I love… and the artist I admire more than anyone in this industry.”

That hit me like a gut punch. I wasn’t expecting a damn speech. I’d barely recovered from hearing my name called three times tonight. But the way she looked at me, the way she saw me—I felt all of it.

“I’ve known Royal through many chapters,” she went on. “The stubborn, broody, cocky guy who didn’t want me in his studio…”

Laughter. Mine included.

“The grieving man who didn’t know how to let people love him… the lyricist who bled truth into every verse. And now—this man standing beside me, with three Grammys in one night? He’s everything he said he couldn’t be.”

My throat tightened.

“But what I’m most proud of,” she continued, “isn’t just the awards, the success, or the headlines. It’s who he became. How he fought for his peace. How he made space for love—ours—and poured it into this album.”

She looked right at me now.

“Royal… my husband…” she said, voice dipping into that soft tone she used only for me. “You said you didn’t give a fuck about awards.”

The whole room cracked up—including me.

“Well look at you now,” she smirked. “We’re gonna need a bigger shelf, babe.”

I shook my head, smiling like a damn fool.

“I love you. I am so proud of you. And I’m honored that we get to keep building this life together. You earned everything tonight. Every flower. Every cheer. Every moment.” She raised her glass. “To three time Grammy Award-winning lyricist, rapper, storyteller, my everything, Mr. Royal Teegan.”

I couldn’t move. I was frozen for a second—just watching her, holding her voice like a prayer. Then I stepped forward, kissed her in front of everybody, and whispered in her ear, “You always know how to fuck me up.”

She grinned against my lips. “That’s love.” I laughed, pulled her into me tighter, and looked around the room at everyone cheering.

“This is the life,” I said quietly trying to pull it together to keep from crying like a bitch in front of everybody present.

Averi looked over at me. “You good?”

“More than good,” I said. “I’m thankful. For you. For all of this. For the fact that I made it through hell… and came out in heaven.”

She smiled, eyes soft. “You deserve it baby.”

“Nah,” I whispered kissing her temple. “We deserve this. And I’m gon’ love you, Ave—always and forever.”

She leaned into me, wrapping her fingers through mine, and for once, there were no doubts, no running and no games. There was just love. Real, raw, and permanent.

And just like that…

Our story—at least this chapter—came to a close. But the next one? We’d write that one together.