Page 16 of What the Leos Burned (BLP Signs of Love #6)

Princess lay sprawled across her bed with a heating pad pressed to her stomach. The TV volume was turned low as the glow of MTV Jams flickered across her walls, looping late-night music video reruns. Each one tugged at some piece of memory she didn’t have the energy to sit with.

Her stomach had been twisting all day. She chalked it up to her mother’s leftover chicken Alfredo from two days ago. Too much garlic, maybe.

She flipped to her side and eyed her flip phone. She’d been waiting. Four months into Zay’s overseas tour and their calls were the only thing that kept her grounded. They didn’t come often. But when they did, she answered on the first ring.

Tonight, when that phone rang, she sat up so fast the heating pad slipped to the floor.

“Hello?” she said, barely breathing.

“Yo.” Zay’s voice came through, loud and warm and hyped. His voice crackled through the line, full of adrenaline and breathless excitement.

“Hey, Zay!” Princess replied.

“You are not gonna believe this, Prin. I swear I’m not playin’. They out here showin’ real love.”

She smiled and leaned back against her pillows, knees pulled to her chest. “Yeah? Where you at again?”

“Amsterdam,” he said, still hyped. “Man, they knew every word. Even the old mixtape joints. Deuce was lookin’ at me like he saw God.”

She laughed. “I told you. I been knew it was just a matter of time. You been grinding too long for the world not to catch on.”

Zay paused, then said softer, “I know, right? This shit is unbelievable.”

“I believe it. I always have.”

“Damn.” He exhaled. “That means more than you know.”

Princess’s chest warmed at that. This was her Zay. The one who used to freestyle on the bus rides coming from dates. The one who dreamed so loud it made her believe in her own.

“Where y’all headed next?” she asked.

“Brussels, then Luxembourg right after. You feel me?” His voice was practically dancing. “I’m tellin’ you, by the end of this leg, we might not even come back.”

“Don’t play,” she said, half-joking, half-nervous. “You already missed my eighteenth birthday. You better come back.”

“Nah,” he said, lowering his voice just a little. “I’m comin’ back. I miss home.”

He hesitated, then added quieter, “I miss you.”

Princess’s breath caught for a second. Her heart tightened with something sweet. “I miss you too.”

There was an unspoken moment between them that didn’t feel empty. It felt like something resting. Holding.

Until she heard it.

Laughter. A woman’s laughter. Clear and very close.

Then, she heard another voice, loud and flirty in the background. “Y’all got another bottle?”

Her smile faded. “Zay?”

“Huh?” He sounded distracted.

“Who’s that?”

He didn’t respond right away. After a few moments, Princess asked again.

“Zay?”

“Oh,” he said casually. “Some folks slid through after the show. Deuce invited a few people back to the suite. It’s nothin’.”

She sat up straighter then. “Wait, there’s women in your hotel room?”

He huffed. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what? I’m on the phone with you while some random girl out there askin’ for another bottle?”

“It’s not that deep, Prin. I’m chillin’. You know how it is after shows.”

She shook her head. “No. What I know is that you’re in another country, surrounded by women I don’t know, and that’s not supposed to be that deep?”

“Man, you trippin’ now. I ain’t doin’ nothin’.”

“Then why are they there?” she asked sharply. “That’s all I’m asking.”

“I just told you. We just chillin’. It’s the afterparty.”

“Chillin’ with hoes at a after-party.”

“Why you makin’ it a thing?”

“Why you acting like I’m stupid? Like I’m just supposed to sit here and smile while you play me?”

He sighed, exasperated. “I’m not playing you, Prin. It’s just some people. You know how this life goes. I’m not on anything.”

“I don’t care how the ‘life goes.’ I care how you move. And right now? You moving real dumb.”

There was another pause. He didn’t apologize like she wanted. Didn’t try to reassure her like she expected him to.

Instead, Zay said, “I’m not about to go back and forth. I’m tired. We just finished two sets, and you tryna make this a fight.”

She blinked. “Wow.”

“Come on, Princess. Don’t do this tonight.”

Her throat burned. Her fingers trembled against the phone. “I held you down while you chased this dream. I stayed up with you, I helped you, I prayed for you. And the first time you get a little taste of the world paying attention, you forget who always did?”

“That’s not fair,” he mumbled. “Prin, it ain’t that deep. What’s wrong with you?”

“Naw, this ain’t fair,” she snapped, voice breaking. “You called me, Zay. You called me. I’m supposed to sit here and pretend like this don’t hurt?”

He didn’t say anything. She listened as the pause was broken by another woman’s laughter in the background.

So, she hung up.

For some reason she couldn’t explain in that moment, the silence afterward hit harder than anything he could’ve said. She stared at the phone for a minute, hoping and waiting for it to ring. For him to call back. But it didn’t. Not one text. Not one apology. Not one, “Are you okay?”

Princess sat there frozen for a moment, then the tears came. Not dramatic ones, just the slow, hot ones that fell before she could blink them away. She wiped her cheeks with the backs of her hands, but it didn’t stop. The ache in her chest grew larger.

Her stomach grumbled, and she stood quickly. Confused, she stumbled into the bathroom and dropped to her knees in front of the toilet. She gripped the rim as bile rose up her throat. Her body convulsed as she vomited. Her chest heaved, nose ran, and her hands shook.

She gasped between heaves and tried to calm herself.

Is it the crying or the chicken alfredo? God, get it together.

She flushed the toilet, leaned against the bathroom wall, and sat there with her knees pulled to her chest. Her thoughts flashed back to Zay.

She had a sinking feeling she couldn’t quite place. There was no answer. No closure. No call back.

Just herself and a deafening silence.