Page 70 of Tangled Hearts

Christian sat in his car for twenty minutes before knocking on Chanta’s door.

He scrolled through Noir’s Instagram again, staring at her clips from Paris Fashion Week.

Her smile looked real. Her clothes draped her body like she was made for the runway.

He left comments under a few posts, little things only she would understand.

She never liked them, never replied. It felt like screaming into a void.

He shut his phone off before it broke him in half.

The silence in the car pressed against him, forcing thoughts he usually drowned out.

He rubbed his palms together, thinking about the mess his life had become.

His love for Noir felt like it had no end, no boundary.

It was the only thing that gave him a high without powder or money attached.

But as much as he wanted her back, another truth dug at him—he couldn’t keep being a ghost to his daughter.

He thought about his own father, how the man was there for him, never missing a beat, but left holes in his other kids’ lives.

Kids that shared his blood. It never made sense.

His daddy loved him because he loved his mama, but that love didn’t stretch far enough to cover the rest of his siblings.

That twisted loyalty had shaped Christian in ways he hated to admit.

Now here he was, circling the same cycle.

He didn’t want to repeat it. Didn’t want Destiny growing up with stories about a daddy who picked the streets and women over her.

Didn’t want his daughter to carry resentment the way he did.

His heart was tangled between wanting Noir with everything in him and needing to be present for his kid.

He knew what absence did—it carved holes you could never patch.

And yet, he also knew what addiction to a woman’s love felt like.

Christian exhaled, staring at the door in front of him.

His life was nothing but tangled hearts, and the knots were choking him.

He couldn’t keep running from the truth.

If he wanted his daughter to know him differently than he knew his own father, he had to show up.

But a part of him still wanted to run, another part of him wanted to knock and find comfort in the chaos he’d created with Chanta, because at least it was something familiar.

His knuckles hit the wood before he could talk himself out of it.

The door swung open. Chanta’s hair was tied back, face bare, eyes wide not expecting him to be the one knocking. She’d been avoiding Christian knowing he was ready to put a bullet in her for the fight at the park. Noir was sacred to Christian and Chanta hated it.

“You finally home,” Christian muttered, pushing his way in.

“Don’t do that,” she snapped, slamming the door. “Don’t walk in here like you own this shit. Where you been? Huh? Your infant daughter needs you, but you too busy chasing after that bitch to care.”

Christian spun around. “Watch your fuckin’ mouth. You almost pulled a gun out on Noir at the park. You lost your fuckin’ mind?”

Her voice rose, sharp enough to rattle the walls. “You love her so much? Then why you keep ending up between my legs, Christian? Why you call me when you drunk or when you mad at her? Why you always here if she’s all you care about?”

He stepped closer, jaw set, brown eyes darkening. “Don’t confuse me fucking you with me loving you. I should’ve never put you in that position, but you ain’t her. You’ll never be her.”

Her hands shook as she pointed at him. “Say it again!”

“I don’t love you, Chanta. I never did.”

She screamed, shoving him hard. He didn’t move, though. He wasn’t fazed by her licks. His chest hurt like hell but his pride wouldn’t let him show it. He thought about Noir’s smile in Paris again, about her moving on without him. That image haunted him worse than any enemy he ever faced.

Men had a way of breaking homes before they even knew what it meant to build one.

They’d love on women they never intended to stay with, ruin them with lies and half-promises, then leave children behind like loose change.

And still, they expected those same children to grow up and know what love looked like.

A child’s well-being was always tied to their mother’s peace. When she was hurting, the child carried the ache. When she was happy, the child learned safety. Men rarely thought about that part. They thought about themselves, about their pride, about the next move.

Chanta sat with all of it every day. The bags under her eyes weren’t from sleepless nights.

It was from carrying weight she never asked for.

She didn’t just raise her baby—she carried the burden of Christian’s double life.

Watching him run the streets, chase Noir, and then crawl back when his world fell apart.

He wanted loyalty but never gave it. He wanted love but treated it like it was disposable.

“You broke me,” she hissed. “You broke me and still expect me to put the pieces together while you go on acting like you the king of something. You a king with no kingdom, Christian.”

Her words sliced like venom.

His eyes widened, and he gulped because her words felt true. He’d been feeling like that a lot lately. Seeing the mess he made and not knowing how to fix it.

“Watch yo’ mouth,” he said through gritted teeth, the truth too raw for him to feel anything other than anger.

“Nigga fuck you!” She yelled, her baby crying down the hall.

Destiny was still learning the world. She was nine months now and Chanta could count on one hand how much Christian spent time with their daughter. He paid great money for her well-being but the time they should’ve spent bonding, he spent running behind Noir.

Every time Chanta looked at her daughter, she saw innocence tangled in betrayal.

The little girl deserved a father who showed up, not one who only came around when his pride needed stroking.

That was her rage—it wasn’t just about her.

It was about how men like Christian could play god with a woman’s heart and then shrug when everything crumbled.

This was the other end of the knot—the side people never showed.

The side people burned off just to make the bow look pretty.

The part nobody cared to acknowledge because it wasn’t picture perfect.

But Chanta lived on that end every single day.

It was why, when she looked at Christian now, she couldn’t see the man she used to love.

She could only see the man who taught her daughter what absence felt like.

Christian pushed her up against the wall.

Chanta slapped him, making his bright skin turn red soon after contact.

“You doing too much, got my baby crying,” Christian tried to go down the hall but Chanta jumped on his back.

The gun on his waist thudded to the floor.

“No! You don’t get to see her now! Where were you when she woke up in the middle of the night? When her tooth started cutting through and she cried herself to sleep just to wake up and cry again?” Chanta fell to the ground when he tossed her off. But she wasn’t done. Wild fists flew everywhere.

“Stop!” Christian tried to grab her hands.

Her licks were getting harder and harder. He didn’t want to have to hit her because he wasn’t that type of man.

“Nooo!” Chanta cried when he pushed her hard enough for her to slide across the floor.

The front door burst open. Her brother stormed in, badge clipped to his belt, gun already drawn. “What the fuck going on in here?”

Everything was happening so fast, two shots rang out.

Christian’s body flew back hitting the wall loud and hard.

Destiny was still screaming.

Chanta scrambled to the gun, firing shots of her own, in a daze and not recognizing her own brother. She emptied the clip with her eyes closed. She’d never shot a gun a day in her life. The Glock Christian carried didn’t come with a safety.

Smoke filled the room. The smell of gunpowder clung to the air.

Christian collapsed to his knees, pressing his hand against the wound in his side. Blood seeped through his shirt fast. His vision blurred. Noir’s face flashed in his mind again, her laugh, her perfume, the way she looked at him before everything went to hell.

Chanta dropped the gun, her whole body shaking. She crawled to him, screaming his name. “Don’t you die on me, Christian! Please!”

He coughed, blood on his lips, the life leaving his eyes. “Tell my daughter… tell her I love her… don’t let her grow up hating me.”

His body gave out, hitting the floor.

Chanta rocked back and forth, her cries echoing off the walls. Her brother laying lifeless a few feet away, her man dying in front of her. The weight of it all crushed her.

She rushed over to her brother. “I didn’t know… it all happened so fast.” She tried to explain to his lifeless body.

Sirens wailed in the distance getting closer by the second. Chanta just cried. Her sadness mixing with her daughters.

The jet door dropped and the stairs unfolded. Noir stepped down with her heart beating fast. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder, squinting against the Jade City sun. Cash hadn’t said shit the whole flight except that she needed to get back.

Her nerves were on fire.

On the tarmac, Knycole and Hov stood side by side. Noir slowed, tilting her head with a weak grin. “What is this? Y’all got back together? That’s why y’all had me rushing back?”

Nobody answered. Hov’s eyes glossed, his lips pressed tight in a straight line. Knycole’s shoulders shook, tears slipping down her cheeks.

“What?” Noir’s laugh cracked in half. She dropped her bag to the ground. “What?” she asked again.

Hov took a step forward, his voice rough. “Christian’s gone.”

“Um, he left the country?” Noir’s eyes bounced between the two of them.

“No, Noir. He’s—” a sob ripped through Hov. “He’s dead, man.”

Noir’s scream tore through the air. She collapsed to her knees on the hot pavement, palms smacking the ground. “No! No! Y’all lying!” Her voice ripped. She hit her chest, hit her thighs, clawed at the ground. “Don’t play with me! Don’t play with me!”

Knycole dropped down beside her, crying harder. Hov wiped his face, trying to maintain control, but his hands shook.

“Noir,” Knycole cried, trying to comfort her best friend.

Regardless of what they were going through, Knycole knew Noir would always have love for Christian.

“Nooooo!” Noir wailed, throwing her body back. She screamed until her throat felt like it split open.

Her chest burned. The sound tore from her body like she was trying to rip out every memory she had of him—five years’ worth.

Nights she stayed up waiting for him to come home, mornings she woke up with him next to her, promises they made in the middle of fights, kisses that always felt like they were the last. All of it was clawing at her now.

Cash was in her heart, she knew that. She loved him in a way that was real, new, and undeniable.

But Christian had been her life. He had been her best friend and her worst decision, her anchor and her storm.

She gave him five years, and no matter how messy those years were, they still belonged to her.

She felt shredded from the inside out, like something had been stolen from her that she couldn’t replace. She hated him for what he did, hated herself for playing games, and hated the world for taking him away before she could let him go on her own terms.

Her hands clawed at her own arms, nails digging in as if pain on the outside could distract from the hole inside her chest. Tears blurred her vision until she could barely see the people rushing around her. Every sound felt muffled. Every breath felt like she was swallowing glass.

Noir wanted to collapse into Cash’s arms, but the guilt hung heavy.

How could she love another man when the one she built her twenties around was lying cold, never to come back?

The grief wrapped around her throat, choking her, reminding her that no matter what love came next, she would never get those five years back.

Cash crouched down fast, his arms went around her before she could fight him off. She swung at him, hit his chest, shoved him, but he held on. “Let me go! Let me the fuck go!” she yelled, voice cracking in pieces.

He tightened his arms around her, pulling her against him while she kicked and clawed. “Get off me!” she sobbed. “Get off me!”

Her strength gave out. She slumped against him, fists balled weakly against his chest. Her face pressed into his shirt as screams turned to broken cries.

Her thoughts wouldn’t stop racing. She remembered Christian laughing, his arms around her, how he smelled after a shower, how he whispered his plans late at night.

He was hers. He’d always been hers. Their love was messy, toxic—but it was theirs.

It was good until it wasn’t. And even when it wasn’t, she still wanted him.

She always thought she’d have more time to figure it out, to forgive him, to go on and love Cash but still leave Christian whole. Now he was gone.

She pounded her chest with both fists. “I hate you, Christian! I hate you for leaving me!” Her words broke, drowning in tears. “Why would you do this to me? Why would you fucking do this to me?”

Cash rocked her, holding her head tight against him. “Breathe, pretty girl,” he whispered against her ear. She shoved at him weakly, then broke down harder when he didn’t let go.

Hov turned away, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, but his body shook. Knycole leaned against him, crying quietly now, whispering prayers under her breath.

Noir’s screams faded into sobs, her whole body trembling in Cash’s arms. She clutched his shirt in her fists, shaking her head over and over. “I love you Christian.”

Cash kissed her temple, his own jaw tight. He didn’t speak. He just held her while she fell apart, her grief pouring out until there was nothing left but shaking breaths.

He wasn’t a jealous man. He never needed to be.

He knew where he stood in her life, and more importantly, in her heart.

Still, hearing her confess her love for another man while falling apart in his arms carved out something deep in him.

It didn’t make him weaker. It made him stronger, more certain of the space he wanted to hold in her life.

This was the truth of them all. Hearts tangled in ways that didn’t make sense to the outside world. Love didn’t come neatly wrapped in a bow. It came with pain, with memories that clung too tight, with choices that pulled you in opposite directions. Cash understood it now more than ever.

Tangled hearts weren’t about clean endings or perfect beginnings. They were about the mess in the middle. The hurt, the loyalty, and the losses. Deciding if the love inside all that was still worth fighting for.