Page 225 of Invisible Bars
Once we reached the restroom, I stood in front of the large mirror, frantically dabbing at my dress with a towel soaked in cold water.
My dress was stained, my confidence felt shattered, and my lip hadn’t stopped trembling.
Imanio was leaned against the sink with his arms crossed tightly and jaw set in a hard line. His tuxedo remained pristine, untouched by the chaos that had unfolded. He radiated an aura of regal composure—everything I lacked in that moment.
I tossed the damp towel into the sink in frustration.
“It’s ruined! I’m ruined!” My voice cracked.
Another tic flared up—that one escaped as a sharp grunt, followed by an unwelcome twitch in my eye.
“Dior disaster! Bleach her breath!” I blurted out in exasperation, my mind racing with thoughts of calamity.
Imanio didn't attempt to stop the tics or offer useless reassurances. Instead, he waited, a silent acknowledgment of my struggle. When it finally subsided, leaving me trembling andexhausted, he stepped closer. His eyes locked onto mine, as if to reassure me that everything would be okay.
“No, you’re not, baby. How you feeling?” he asked, his voice soft, tender, devoid of any pity.
“Exhausted and humiliated,” I whispered, my voice still slightly hoarse from the exertion.
He smiled, a knowing, empathetic smile that reached his eyes.
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about, Naji. It's a part of you, and I'm learning to understand that part, to appreciate it even.”
I took a deep breath, trying to center myself, holding back more than just the next tic.
“I’m not embarrassed about my outbursts. This b-beautiful dress is ruined and I just don’t feel clean. I w-want to go home.”
Imanio enveloped me in his strong embrace, his muscular arms circling my waist as he leaned in, our foreheads softly touching.
The warmth of his skin against mine felt comforting, yet bittersweet.
“I really don’t want you to leave me,” he confessed, his voice low and earnest, 'but I understand why it’s necessary. I mean... you are wearing white.”
I let out a light chuckle, biting my lip as I met his eyes.
“H-here’s a little piece of advice for next time: maybe opt for b-black. It’s your favorite color, after all,” I suggested playfully.
"Definitely,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with affection, momentarily lifting the weight of the moment.
After placing a soft kiss on my forehead, Imanio straightened his jacket, adjusting it with a touch of formality that contrasted our intimate moment.
“I’ma have Dess to drop you off at home. I’m sure she’s ready to go. She hates these events just as much as I do, but she always show up to support.”
I nodded silently.
“Come on,” he said, his tone shifting to practical.
“H-how long do you plan on staying here?” I asked as we headed back to the ballroom, voice still shaky but trying to stay upright.
“After you leave, I’ma shake a few more hands, put on a few more fake smiles for the crowd, and I’ll meet you at home in an hour.”
I nodded again, grounding myself in that.
Just an hour.
Imanio leaned down to speak with Dessign, who had her purse in her lap and was looking two minutes from rolling out with or without Chi.
“I need you to take her home,” Imanio told her. “You’re probably ready to go anyway.”
