Page 82 of Before I Say I Don't
Jayla.
I froze.
Jayla? Messaging Kendall?
Those two had never exchanged more than a polite “hi” in front of me.
I tapped the thread open, pulse pounding.
The conversation scrolled back hours… and every word sliced deeper.
Jayla: Girl, I thought I was the only one side-eyeing this whole setup. She really acting like this wedding about to be some kind of royal gala. She’s still the same Kam I’ve been babysitting all these years. All these “boss moves” she brags about, and half of it is smoke and mirrors. I’m bored just sitting here.
Kendall: And that smile? It looks rehearsed. Like she’s practicing for the cover of Delusional Bride Monthly.
Jayla: Lol.
Kendall: And why she let her sister outshine everybody with the gifts? Everything looked staged for Instagram.
Jayla: Girl, Danica’s ass been fake since day one. She run around here like we’re supposed to bow down to her demands. I only came so people wouldn’t talk.
Kendall: Hell, I’m only in the wedding because my brother begged me to. I wonder why she changed the location at the last minute?
Jayla: Who knows? But Kam’s not fooling me. I know it’s another reason than what she said. I’ma find out!
Kendall: Please do!
Jayla: No worries. The higher she climbs, the harder she’s gonna fall.
My eyes tracked the bubbles as they scrolled up the screen, each one sharper than the last.
My stomach knotted, but it wasn’t from nerves; it was from that familiar punch of betrayal that I’d felt one too many times in my life; I just never thought Jayla would be the cause.
Jayla? My best friend? My day one? A shoulder I used to be able to lean on?
That backstabbing hoe was talking about me like I was a stranger she barely tolerated.
Every time Jayla came over while I was buried under an avalanche of deadlines, working long hours, I couldn't shake the feeling that she didn't understand. In those moments, when I was choking back tears over losses she never witnessed, when she swore she believed in my dreams and ambition—that was what she considered babysitting? Really?
My throat burned with anger.
Kendall was irrelevant. Her barbs and jabs slid off my confidence like rain on glass, leaving no mark. But Jayla? Nah. Her words burrowed deep under my skin like tiny splinters, each whispering that I was a fool to believe she ever clapped for me.
I thought about every late-night phone call, every secret I spilled when I was too tired to hold my walls up, every piece of my heart I laid bare in front of her—convinced she would guardit fiercely—,how I defended her when people side-eyed her, how many rooms I mentioned her name in when opportunities came up, and how many times I choseherover people who had actually earned the right to stand beside me. And there she was, coldly dissecting my struggles, as if I were nothing but a burden.
High and mighty.
That’s how she viewed me? Not as strong, not as resilient, but just… full of myself.
And that last line she threw at me— "The higher she climbs, the harder she’s gonna fall."
It wasn't mere gossip or just passing shade. It felt like a wish—a dark desire. Jayla was waiting, almost eagerly, for my downfall. Rooting for it, even, as if my failure would somehow validate her own insecurities.
My hands went cold; every bone stiffened as if betrayal had a temperature.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw the phone across the kitchen tile. I wanted to demand answers. But I already knew them.
I snatched my own phone from the coffee table and, with trembling fingers, snapped screenshot after screenshot.
