Page 25 of My Only (My First, My Last)

I exhaled through my nose, trying to keep my patience in check. It had already been a long day. One problem after another at work, each one demanding my attention. My mind was spent. The last thing I wanted was to come home and find another problem waiting for me here.

And yet… here we were.

The pressure of this project was getting to me. No one understood the weight I was carrying, the responsibility on my shoulders. I had to make sure everything stayed on track. Bryant trusted me to get it done. And I trusted myself too—or at least, I used to.

Lately, I wasn’t feeling as sure.

And the one person who always kept me grounded? The one person who could talk me off the ledge?

She was standing right in front of me, refusing to say a damn word.

“Are you gonna talk to me tonight?” I asked, closing the space between us. “‘Cause, Ayla, I really don’t have the energy for this silent treatment shit. Not tonight.”

“Oh,” she said, finally turning to face me. “You don’t want the silent treatment tonight. That’s good, Hassani. That’s real good. It’s nice that you know what you want.”

I exhaled sharply, my patience thinning. “Man, what is your deal, Ayla? What’s up?”

“I don’t think you understand how much I needed you at my mother’s house tonight,” she said, her voice thick with hurt that hit me square in the chest. “ That’s what’s up.”

“I had to work,” I shot back. “What the fuck? You think I wanted to work late? You think I wanted to get home at this hour?”

“I told you about this dinner for weeks, Hassani!” she shouted. “Weeks! And you still bailed on me when I needed you the most.”

“I had to work , Ayla!” I shouted back.

She scoffed, rolling her eyes so hard I thought she might tip over from the force of it.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to look away, to breathe through the frustration.

“Sometimes…” I groaned, shaking my head, “I don’t think you understand how big this project is, A.”

Her expression went flat.

Then she shook her head. “I needed you tonight, Hassani.”

“Ayla, it was just a fucking dinner, baby,” I argued, throwing up my hands. “And like Harper said?—”

She scoffed. Loudly.

The moment Harper’s name left my mouth, Ayla’s entire face twisted into something terrible.

“Harper?” she snapped, her voice laced with disbelief. “ Harper said ? Has she officially made it into my house now?”

I frowned, completely thrown. “What?”

She just stared at me.

Her chest rising and falling, her eyes glassy with unshed tears.

And just like that, the fight left me.

I hated seeing her like this.

Even if I thought she was being dramatic as hell, I hated it.

I stepped toward her, reaching out, but she moved fast.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “ Uh-uh .”

My brows furrowed. “A?—”

She blinked.

A tear slipped down her cheek.

“Baby, what’s wrong ?” I whispered. “Talk to me.”

She didn’t answer.

She just turned, and stormed out of the kitchen.

I reached for her, instinctively grabbing for her arm, but she slapped my hand away.

Didn’t stop.

Didn’t look at me.

Just kept going.

I let out a sharp grunt, pressing my hands flat against the kitchen island to ground myself.

To come home after a day like today, only to walk into this ?

A mess. A fucking mindfuck.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to leave it alone.

I made my way upstairs, expecting to find her in our room, but when I stepped inside… nothing.

The room was empty.

I should’ve gone after her. Should’ve pushed. But I couldn’t. Not tonight.

Instead, I walked into the bathroom and turned the shower on.

I barely touched the cold nozzle, letting the heat bite at my skin.

It’s like I said, the day started fine, but then Harper dropped that shit about the flooring on my desk, and suddenly it was all hands on deck. I was grateful we caught the mistake before it turned into a real problem, but not at the expense of my home.

Not at the expense of this .

By the time I was done showering, drying off, and going through my nighttime routine, I stepped back into our bedroom, half-hoping to find Ayla there.

But it was still empty.

I sucked my teeth and climbed into bed, muttering, “Man, whatever.”

I pulled open the side table drawer and grabbed my sketchbook, needing something to settle my mind.

A balcony overlooking the water.

That’s what I was working on.

I tilted my pencil, shading in the soft curtains I imagined billowing in the breeze, but my focus kept slipping.

I leaned my head back, letting my eyes drift up toward the skylight. Then I turned my head—just once—to glance at Ayla’s side of the bed.

Still empty.

I sighed and grabbed my phone off the nightstand.

It’s like I said—I was exhausted. Up at 4 a.m. In the office by 6. Running on fumes. I needed to set my alarm and turn in.

I thumbed in my passcode, swiping toward my alarm clock app, and froze.

There was a new text.

One I hadn’t even noticed. I’d been so caught up with everything at work that by the time I finally wrapped up, I just grabbed my shit and walked out—didn’t check my phone, didn’t think twice.

I’d considered calling Ayla on my way out, but figured it’d be better to just talk to her at home.

But now, sitting there, I saw it…

The text I missed. Unread. Just waiting.

From Ayla.

A sick feeling settled in my stomach as I clicked in.

Ayla: I’m here at my mom’s. Her boyfriend is too. I don’t know how possible it’ll be, but I really need for you to show up for me tonight, baby.

I stared.

The words swam on the screen.

Then my stomach dropped.

I sucked in a breath through my teeth, my hand covering my mouth.

“Oh, shit.”

That was tonight? I thought it was just dinner with our parents.

My chest tightened.

“Fuck.”

It completely slipped my mind that tonight was the night Ayla’s mother, Sonia, was introducing her boyfriend to Ayla and my parents.

Ayla had mentioned for months that her mother had been dating again. She said she was okay with it—over and over—but I knew her. I knew that meeting him would make it real in a way Ayla wasn’t ready for.

It made sense that her mother’s boyfriend would be there. A family dinner. A serious relationship. Of course , he would be there.

But I forgot.

And I forgot how big this was for Ayla.

How big of a deal it would be for Ayla to sit at that table, watching her mother with another man—when all she had ever known was her parents together.

Tonight must’ve been so damn hard for her. And I wasn’t there. I didn’t even check my phone until that moment in bed. I was too focused on getting home once I was done with work.

“Shit,” I said under my breath.

A pang shot straight through my chest.

“I wasn’t there. Fuck.”

I threw off the covers and bolted out of bed, taking quick strides to the bedroom door. I moved from room to room, searching for her. When I reached the stairs, I took them two at a time, heading straight for the guest bedroom.

The door was closed, but I didn’t hesitate. I turned the knob, pushing it open.

The sound of Ayla’s muffled sobs hit me like a punch to the gut.

She was crying into the pillows.

And my heart shattered.

So many times, my father had told me, Be there for Ayla. In whatever way you know how to be, be there for her.

And I had been.

I was there for her in high school when she called me at one in the morning, three in the morning, when she couldn’t sleep because she was thinking about her father. When she barely spoke, just cried, and all I could do was sit on the other end of the line and listen.

I was there when she came back to school after September 11th and broke down at her locker—every night after, she was convinced her dad would walk through the front door any second. I didn’t know what to say back then. Didn’t know how to fix it.

But I was there.

And that was enough.

But tonight?

Tonight, I wasn’t there.

And it wrecked me.

It wrecked her.

“ Aw , baby, damn,” I whispered, my throat tight, my chest aching, eyes watering. “Baby.”

She cried harder.

I kissed my teeth, blinking back my own tears. “Come here, baby. Come here.”

I didn’t wait for permission. I scooped her into my arms, holding her close, feeling her fists ball into my shirt as she buried her face against me.

Her sobs broke me all over again.

“Fuck,” I intoned quietly against her hair, pressing my lips to the top of her head. “I’m so sorry. I forgot tonight was the night, baby. I forgot.”

She didn’t say anything. Just nodded against me, holding on tighter like she wasn’t trying to let go.

I sat at the edge of the guest room bed, adjusting my hold on her before standing up again.

Still cradling her against my chest, I carried her out of the room, up the stairs, taking them one at a time, slow and steady.

She wasn’t heavy, but damn if my heart didn’t feel like it was carrying everything at once.

I fought back my own tears because that’s how it always was.

Whenever Ayla cried, I felt it.

Every time.

I climbed into bed, keeping her close. I held her.

Until her sobs faded into soft sighs.

Until her body relaxed against mine.

Until she finally fell asleep.

But me?

I didn’t sleep at all.

I stared through the skylight for hours, lost in thoughts of her sitting at that dinner table alone, going through one of the biggest shifts in her life… without me by her side.

And as much as work mattered, as much as I had told myself I couldn’t afford to drop the ball on the Greene Gardens Project…

I had dropped the ball on her .

And that?

That was something I wasn’t sure how to fix.