Page 32 of Love You Like That

She chose silence when I needed her voice,

I chose pride when I had no choice.

Family lookin’ at me like I ain’t enough,

Ink on my skin, history rough.

I gave her real, but she wanted refined,

How I keep fightin' when this love shit feels blind?

My voice cracked a bit as I read it back aloud, alone in the quiet apartment. “Damn,” I whispered to myself bitterly, taking another sip, “You got it bad, nigga.” Just as I set the notebook down, my phone lit up, breaking my thoughts. It was Nina. I cleared my throat, answering quickly. “Nina.”

“Ezra,” she greeted warmly, confident as always. “We still good for New York in a couple days?”

“Yeah, I’m ready,” I said, forcing steadiness into my voice.

“Good,” she said approvingly. “I’ve lined up meetings. Meridian Verse wants to hear your work live, talk about developing your platform, getting you signed. This could be major for you.”

“Thatisbig,” I admitted, feeling the weight of her words settle on me heavily. “I appreciate you doin’ this.”

“It’s my job,” she replied smoothly. “But honestly, Ezra, this is about more than poetry. It’s about your voice, your story. You belong in spaces that respect your truth, that let you shine as you are.”

Her words punched through the hurt in my chest. “You think I’m ready for all that?”

“I know you are,” Nina said seriously. “And don’t worry, I’ll be right there with you. We’ll talk about branding, vision, and platforms. This is your chance to rewrite your storyyourway.”

I swallowed, breathing out slowly. “Aight. I’m wit’ it.”

“Good,” Nina repeated, satisfied. “Flight and hotel details are in your email. Call me if you need anything. And Ezra?”

“Yeah?”

“Whatever’s holding you back in East Hollis, handle it now. You need your head clear. Trust me.”

We hung up, and I sat back heavily, my mind racing. Nina was right. My future was calling, demanding clarity and decisions. But I couldn’t see that future without Yaya clearly in it. Without making shit right.

I stared at my phone, at her name burning into my screen, fear gripping my throat. But the ache of missing her, of wanting her, outweighed pride. I downed the last of the Henny and took a deep breath, and finally pressed ‘call’. It rang once. Twice. Three times. Just when I thought it’d go to voicemail, she picked up. Soft, guarded, uncertain.

“Ezra?”

Hearing her voice again almost broke me right there. My chest tightened and my pulse quickened. “Yo,” I breathed out roughly. “I can’t do this no more. Not speakin’. This shit killin' me.”

She was quiet for a second, her voice barely a whisper. “Me too.”

I exhaled slowly, courage swelling. “Can we talk?”

There was a pause and then she softly said, “Yeah. Come over.”

And just like that, the knot in my chest loosened just enough for me to breathe again. Whatever came next, I was ready to face it and ready to fight for us.

T h ek i t c h e ns m e l l e dlike garlic butter, fresh herbs, and comfort, which is exactly what my soul needed. I’d just finished plating two servings of shrimp linguine tossed with roasted tomatoes and spinach, a sprinkle of parmesan giving it that extra layer of comfort. Simple, but rich enough to calm my anxiety, if only temporarily.

I set the plates down gently, breathing deeply, my chest tightening slightly as my eyes flicked toward my phone on the countertop. Ezra’s call had been replaying in my mind constantly since we’d hung up an hour ago.

His voice had been raw and vulnerable. When he admitted how much our silence was tearing him up, I felt the tension in my body release for the first time in days. Just hearing him say my name again had melted the frost gathering around my heart.

But I was nervous too. Because now there was nowhere left to hide. No way to gloss over the argument or pretend we didn’t hurt each other. Tonight, we would finally have to talk and I wasn’t sure what would happen next.

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