Page 66 of The Spark

Taraj stood next to me, tall and magnetic in a fitted black turtleneck and slacks, his energy cool but intense. His attention was on the mosaic, his expression unreadable.

“This piece is unreal,” he murmured. “You did that.”

I offered a small smile. “Thanks, Raj.”

He studied it a little longer, then glanced sideways at me. “Might be my favorite.”

I shifted my weight. “It’s personal.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “It looks like it was made from memory.”

I looked back at the piece.

It was.

Before I could respond, his voice dropped.

“He’s been different.”

My brows lifted. “Who?”

“You know who.”

I looked away.

“He seemed fine to me,” I said bitterly. “Tasha kept him occupied.”

Raj’s jaw ticked. “It wasn’t like that.”

I folded my arms. “You don’t have to defend him.”

“I’m not.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve been there before. This game, this industry can make us all guilty of something, but he’s not guilty of cheating on you. Tasha was never ever gonna get a piece. He always pushed her up off him.”

I thought of what Amir had said to me in the park. How vulnerable he seemed saying what it was like having all those people around. It was some kind of validation I guess. And while I understood an artist loving the attention, he should have sought it from me.

You were busy too, girl. You were caught up in what you were doing too. Or did you forget?

Somehow I didn’t think of that. How I spent more time at home working on the project and away from him, how I expected him to understand. I swallowed hard. Taj’s eyes were observing me as if he could see my realizations.

“I just think you should know… that man has been miserable without you.”

My stomach clenched because I had been miserable without him and only trying to convince myself that I was just fine.

Taraj continued, his voice measured, steady. “He’s been burying himself in work. Not eating right. Barely sleeping. Tasha tried, yeah—but he wasn’t paying her any attention. Not the way you think.”

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly tight.

“I don’t know what went down between y’all,” Taraj went on, watching me carefully. “But I know what I see. And what I see is a man who’s been lost since you left.”

I inhaled sharply, feeling my walls crack.

His voice dropped, almost like he was giving me space to decide what to do with the truth he’d just handed me.

“Think about it,” he murmured.

And then he walked away.

I turned back toward the mosaic, staring at it without really seeing it.

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