Page 22 of My Only (My First, My Last)

A yla

I approached the pinboard by my classroom’s Reading Nook, smiling as I pinned up a new class photo.

It was half an hour before my students arrived, and I was getting things ready for their day when I heard a voice at my door.

“Ayla,” Rachel DeLeon—one of Park Avenue Prep’s teachers—called out, poking her head into my classroom. “There’s something waiting for you at the front desk.”

The smile on her face was so big I could count all her teeth from across the room.

I arched a brow. “Could you smile any harder?” I set down the remaining photos on a nearby table. “What is it?”

“Just come and see.” She giggled.

I couldn’t help but giggle, too.

Peeking at my watch, I checked if I had time to spare.

It was a quiet morning at Park Avenue Prep. A freezing one, too. Getting out of bed had been a struggle, and I wasn’t quite over the effort it took to pull on my chunky brown sweater, jeans, and boots before heading out. The upcoming Christmas break couldn’t come fast enough.

As soon as I stepped out of my classroom and into the hallway, my eyes landed on the front desk—and the massive, stunning bouquet waiting there.

A few teachers stood around it, all of them grinning at me.

“Girl,” one of them said, smirking, “these are gorgeous.”

“He did good,” another commented with a knowing nod.

I smiled as I approached the flowers.

It was a mixed bouquet—soft pink peonies, white orchids, yellow roses, lilies, and baby’s breath adding a delicate touch to it all.

I leaned in and inhaled deeply, closing my eyes at the sweet scent.

Our security guard, Kaedee, teased, “Are these from your man, or do I need to call him and let him know someone else is doing his job?”

I laughed. “Not you threatening to snitch, Kaedee. Damn.”

She cackled.

“At ease, soldier,” I assured her. “They’re from him.”

Reaching for the envelope tucked into the arrangement, I peeled it open and pulled out the tiny white card inside.

The message read:

I love you, A. Plus, you know… no take-backs, right? Forever us.

A scoffing laugh left me instantly.

I knew exactly what this was. What he meant.

They were beautiful. Thoughtful. But was this a just because kind of gift, or was Hassani trying to fix something I hadn’t even confronted him about yet?

I exhaled deeply, running my fingers along the edge of the note. And for a moment, I allowed myself to smile. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that this had everything to do with last night.

“Damn. Where’s the black pepper?” Hassani muttered, peering into the built-in spice rack beside the stove. “I can’t find it anywhere.”

I shook the excess water from my hands and made my way over to him. One glance at the spice rack was all it took before I grabbed the tiny bottle and handed it to him.

“Thanks, baby.”

I smiled up at him. “You’re welcome.”

Returning to the shrimp I was prepping, I went back to deveining them while the familiar sounds of ‘90s R&B played from our tiny portable speaker.

“Is the paprika still on the rack or in the cabinet now?” Hassani asked next.

I shook my head, smiling to myself. “The paprika is still in the same spot, baby.”

He sighed, leaning in closer to the spice rack, hunching his tall frame slightly. “I don’t see it.”

Snorting a laugh, I abandoned the shrimp and returned to his side, reaching for the glass paprika shaker—right where I said it was.

I looked up at him, and he met my gaze.

“Thank you again,” he said.

“My pleasure.”

He chuckled before leaning down to press a soft kiss to my lips.

It was one of the rare times he was home early from work.

Most of the year had been a blur of late nights and early mornings, with him leaving before I even woke up for the day.

The Greene Gardens Project consumed so much of his time that, at this point, I was used to seeing more of his absence than his presence.

But after I mentioned that it had been way too long since we cooked dinner together, he told me he’d make it happen. And tonight, he was making good on that promise.

It felt good to have him home before the sun dipped past the horizon.

We were vibing—cooking, cracking jokes, just enjoying each other like we used to in our newlywed days.

I had just finished seasoning the shrimp when I heard him grunt under his breath.

“What are you looking for now?” I asked.

“The grapeseed oil.”

I pointed above his head. “In the cabinet, first shelf.”

He nodded, turning to open the cabinet door. “Damn, why don’t I know where anything is?”

“Because it’s been a minute since you’ve cooked in here, principal architect.”

He tossed a glance over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes in mock annoyance.

I burst out laughing.

“Yeah, aight,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

Drying my hands on a paper towel, I walked up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist and resting my cheek against his broad back.

“I’m just playing with you,” I murmured, turning my face and rising onto the arches of my feet to press a kiss between his shoulder blades. “I am so proud of you.”

He took my hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed the back of my wrist.

“You’re doing great,” I whispered, placing another kiss against his shirt before returning to the shrimp. “I knew you would.”

With dinner done and plated, we sat at the kitchen table, wasting no time before diving in.

“Mmm,” Hassani groaned, leaning back in his chair, eyes closed in satisfaction. “Damn, that’s good.”

I giggled, forking another bite of pasta into my mouth. “It is.”

Like I said, it felt good having him home before night fell. Cooking, joking. Just being.

I wanted to hold onto this moment, to pretend things were as simple as they had always been. But deep down, I knew better. Something was different. Something I wasn’t saying. Something he wasn’t saying, either.

I pushed the thought aside.

Tonight is good. Keep it that way, I thought to myself.

But then, Hassani’s phone vibrated against the table, the screen lighting up between us.

I wasn’t even trying to look, but my eyes landed on it anyway.

Harper.

My stomach knotted.

I wanted to ignore the feeling, to pretend I was overreacting. But lately, it felt like she was everywhere. And I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it or if I needed to be paying more attention.

Unlike before, this time her message showed right on the lock screen. I didn’t even have to snoop.

Harper: Hope you’re finally getting a second to relax. I can’t stop thinking about our discussion earlier… You always have the best ideas. Made my day, thank you. It’s breaking my heart that I couldn’t pick your brain for a little longer…

The words blurred together after that. My stomach twisted.

I lifted my gaze to Hassani, and he was already looking at me. Not at his phone. At me. His lips parted slightly like he was about to explain, but after a pause—just a little too long—he finally said…

“She had a miscalculation in one of her interior layouts.” He reached for his red wine. “I walked her through adjustments. That’s what she’s texting about.”

“Hmph.” I huffed and took a sip of my wine.

I wanted to say more.

Why now? Couldn’t this have waited until work tomorrow?

But I bit my tongue.

Because it was little things like this.

Little things that would bother anyone with sense.

Little things that, if I said anything about, would make me sound ridiculous.

So I said nothing.

Instead, I reached for my glass again and gulped down another sip.

I never brought up Harper texting Hassani that night at Vernon’s. Never told him I’d unlocked his phone and saw that she’d been texting him since the day they met.

I hadn’t needed to.

Because after that night, she hadn’t texted outside of work. At least… not to my knowledge.

This was the first time since then.

And suddenly, dinner wasn’t so good anymore.

“ Aw , these are so beautiful,” Monica gushed as she and a few other teachers, including Janae, approached me from behind.

Her voice yanked me back to the present, forcing me to focus on the flowers again.

I fixed a smile onto my face and turned to them.

“From Hassani?” Monica asked.

“From Hassani.” I smiled. “I have no idea how I’m getting these home. Might have to just leave them in my classroom.”

“ Mm-hmm . What he do?” Janae asked next.

I giggled nervously. “Huh?”

“They always do this,” Janae said, nodding toward the bouquet. “Distract you with pretty things so you forget why you’re mad at them.”

I exhaled sharply… then forgot to inhale again.

“Janae, do not start with this.” Monica laughed, shoving her playfully. “Always acting like Debbie Downer from Saturday Night Live . Y’all remember her?”

“Of course!” Kaedee chuckled. “I used to love her skits.”

The ladies all laughed.

I tried to, but I couldn’t get into it.

Because although Janae was jaded…

She might have been right.

And she would know.

Was I getting these flowers just because ?

Or was this the start of another one of Hassani’s unspoken apology tours?

I didn’t let my face show the doubt creeping in. Instead, I forced a smile and lifted the bouquet from the desk.

“All right, y’all,” I announced. “I’m about to take my garden to my class and plant it on my desk, so I can get ready for my babies. Y’all take care.”

“Enjoy them, Ayla,” Monica called after me. “Hassani did good.”

“Thank you,” I replied, as enthusiastically as I could manage.

And he did do good. The flowers were beautiful. Thoughtful.

But for the first time, I found myself wondering if he was doing good with us .

Or if we were already starting to crack.