Page 89 of I See You

Taking a deep breath, she used her key to unlock the door, her heels clicking against the gleaming marble floors as she stepped inside. The house was exactly as she remembered—warm, familiar, untouched since childhood, except for the subtle updates her mother insisted on every few years. Despite their wealth, her parents always preferred simplicity over extravagance.

As she walked further in, the sound of basketball filled the air, and the rich aroma of food drifted from the kitchen, signaling her mother was cooking. The sight of her father, comfortably reclined in his favorite chair, brought an unexpected wave of comfort.

A smile tugged at her lips, momentarily easing the tightness in her chest. “The favorite is here!” Sevyn announced, her voice light, teasing.

Her father, Steven Love, snapped his head up, a broad grin spreading across his face. Despite being in his fifties, he didn’t look a day over thirty-five. His rich chocolate skin remained smooth, glowing effortlessly under the warm lighting. Bald and unapologetically proud of it, he leaned into every spoiled bald dad joke known to man, a running gag in the Love household. Standing at 6’3 with a solid build, he remained disciplined with his workouts, a fact that only added to his commanding yet welcoming presence.

Steven Love had everything—looks, wealth, an undeniable aura that could command any room—but the only woman he ever wanted was Trina Love.

“Hey, Miracle,” he greeted, standing to wrap her in a tight hug. The moment she was in his arms, the last of her nerves settled. She inhaled the familiar scent of his cologne, lingering in the embrace before they finally pulled away.

His eyes took a moment to admire her before shifting to Dorian. “Thug Dizzle!” he hyped, making both of them laugh.

“Wassup, Unc!” Dorian grinned as they dapped each other up, then embraced in a hug.

Right on cue, Trina Love emerged from the kitchen, a warm smile lighting up her face. “Baby girl!” she gushed, moving toward Sevyn with open arms.

“Hey, Ma,” Sevyn greeted, wrapping her in a hug, feeling the familiar warmth of her mother’s love.

“Niecey-Pooh!” Trina turned to Dorian, pulling her into an embrace just as tight.

As they all settled into the living room, Sevyn exhaled quietly, bracing herself. The moment felt calm now, but she knew the storm was coming.

“How’s everything been?” Steven asked, his deep voice carrying its usual authority mixed with genuine curiosity.

Sevyn offered a small smile, but Dorian, always attuned to her, caught the hesitation before she even spoke. Sensing the shift, she jumped in, effortlessly steering the conversation away from the tension bubbling beneath the surface.

“The shop’s doing great. More clients by the day,” Dorian answered, her tone light and easy. “And when I’m not working, I’m looking after this one.” She nudged Sevyn playfully.

Laughter rippled through the room. Everyone knew how inseparable they were—more like sisters than cousins. Being born just hours apart, Dorian had taken her role as the ‘older one’ seriously sinceday one, always playing protector, even when Sevyn didn’t ask for it.

The moment passed quickly, though, and the air thickened again as Trina’s sharp gaze landed on her daughter. “Now, you’ve been avoiding us, and I want to know why.”

Sevyn’s stomach tightened. She had known this was coming, but it didn’t make it any easier. She cleared her throat, gathering the courage to finally tell them. It wasn’t the truth itself that made her anxious—it was their reaction, especially her father’s.

She inhaled deeply, then exhaled, forcing a casual smile onto her lips. “I think it’s best we talk over your delicious food, Ma.” Her voice was soft, sweet, an attempt to ease the tension before it could take over.

Trina narrowed her eyes slightly, not entirely convinced but not pushing just yet. She studied her daughter, her intuition telling her there was more to this than Sevyn was letting on. Still, after a beat, she simply nodded. “Alright, then. Let’s eat.”

Sevyn exhaled quietly, knowing she’d only bought herself a little more time. The storm was still coming—she just had to be ready for it. Dinner was finally served, and the rich aroma of Trina’s famous gumbo filled the air as they gathered around the large dining table. Silverware clinked against fine china, the low hum of conversation creatingafamiliarwarmth.Trina,evertheSouthernmatriarch, carried the culture of her Louisiana roots with pride, from her cooking to the accent that never faded, even after years in Memphis.

Everyone settled in, the comfort of home wrapping around Sevyn—until her mother’s voice cut through the moment.

“Don’t think I forgot, miss thang. Why have you been dodgingmy calls?” Trina’s tone was light, but her sharp eyes pinned Sevyn in place.

Sevyn swallowed her food, her throat suddenly tight. She barely had time to gather a response before Steven pushed back from the table with a smile.

“My bad, baby girl. We have another guest joining us for dinner.” Sevyn’seyessnappedtoDorian,whoseexpression mirrored herown—confusionlacedwithsuspicion.Thepleasedlookonher mother’s face only made her warier. She forced herself to take another bite, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling creeping up her spine. Then she heard it. A voice she never wanted to hear again. “Mr. Love, always good to see you.”

No.Hell no.

The spoon in Sevyn’s hand went still. Her jaw clenched as slow, deliberate footsteps approached. And then, like a nightmare made real,Braxtonsteppedintothediningroom,abottleofwineinhand, his posture relaxed—like he belonged there.

Her entire body tensed, rage bubbling beneath the surface, but she schooled her expression, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Dorian, on the other hand, wasn’t as subtle. She shot him a look so sharp it could cut through glass.

Braxton, unfazed, strode toward Trina with that same easy smile that once had Sevyn fooled. “Hey, Mrs. Love,” he greeted smoothly, handing her the wine.

Sevyn didn’t blink, her gaze locked onto his like a sniper lining up a target. He felt it too. Their eyes met, and there it was—that smile. Smug. Petty.

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