Page 9 of Heavy Is The Crown

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Krys’ car purred beneath her hands, the soft hum of the engine blending with the city sounds as she cruised through the bustling streets of Trinity Bay.

The night air was thick with weekend energy; people moving in and out of rooftop bars, neon signs flickering against the pavement, laughter spilling from open patios. The skyline stretched above her, a mix of old brick buildings and sleek glass high-rises, a perfect metaphor for the city itself, gritty but evolving.

She loved Trinity Bay. She loved the way it never truly slept, never let anyone get too comfortable; much like herself.

She switched lanes effortlessly, the dashboard glowing as she turned up the music, a sultry R&B track vibrating through the speakers. It matched her mood. Not sad or anything. Not even bitter; just reflective.

Then her phone rang, cutting through the moment. When she saw the name flashing across her screen, her impatience deepened.

Zahir.

She shook her head, already knowing this was about to be some grade A entertainment. Without hesitation, she hit accept.

“Zahir.”

A deep sigh came through the speakers, followed by that smooth, familiar chuckle. The kind of chuckle that used to mean something.

“Damn,” he muttered, voice dripping with something between amusement and frustration. “Hello to you too.”

Krys switched lanes, keeping one hand on the wheel, the other resting against her thigh. “We’re past ‘hello’ at this point, don’t you think?”

Zahir let a pause stretch between them. Like he was choosing his words carefully, trying to say the right thing as if that would change anything.

“I was just checking in,” he finally said, voice low, like it held weight or as if it mattered.

Krys rolled her eyes. “You don’t check in with me, Zahir.”

“Why you always gotta act like this?”

She was tickled. “Like what? Minding my business? Living my life?”

He sighed, and Krys just knew he was gripping the bridge of his nose like he was trying to collect himself.

“You ain’t gotta be like that, Krys.”

Krys let out a soft hum, pretending to think. “Be like what? Honest?”

Zahir didn’t say anything for a second, then he exhaled. “Look, I miss you.”

Krys snorted. “I bet you do,” she muttered.

“You don’t miss me?” His voice dipped, smooth, coaxing. The same way he used to sound when he was in her ear, when his hands were on her skin, when he was saying all the right shit, doing all the right things until he wasn’t.

Krys didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she tapped her nails against the steering wheel, letting the anticipation build.

Then, finally she asked, “For what, Zahir?”

He scoffed. “Come on, you know what I mean.”

“Nah.” Her tone was light, teasing, but sharp underneath. “Spell it out.”

Zahir groaned. “Man, stop playing.”

She smirked. Oh, but she loved playing.

“Just say it, Zahir,” she murmured. “Say you miss fucking me.”

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