Page 276 of Invisible Bars
He chuckled, a chilling sound that hinted at pride. “I guess it’s time she learns what real consequences feel like.”
“Do it fast and make ithurt!”
I ended the call before he could respond, then shoved my phone in my pocket, and lit a blunt—dragging it slowly, letting the smoke bury the heat in my chest.
This isn’t just war anymore; it’s personal.
Chapter Forty-Seven
NAJI
My fingers danced anxiously at my sides, tapping against my thighs in erratic bursts. I hated that I was ticcing that much… hated that he thought of seeing them still had that kind of power over me.
The knock on the hotel room door was light but firm.
Chiamaka opened it with wide eyes and a half-packed suitcase behind her. The hotel room was in disarray—clothes, shoes, hair products, and snacks spread across the beds as if a hurricane of preparation had blown through.
“Naji?” she blinked. “We were just packing. Check-out is in an hour. We didn’t know if?—”
“I know.” I stepped inside, cutting her off gently but firmly. “T-that’s why I came.”
My voice attempted to maintain a steady calmness, yet my body didn’t get the memo. My fingers curled tightly into fists, only to relax and open again in a restless rhythm, a physical manifestation of my mounting tension. Meanwhile, my nose scrunched up repeatedly, as if reacting to an invisible sour smell.
Chiamaka’s parents—ourparents—stood from the hotel couch as I entered. I didn’t look at them long.
“I’m not here for conversation,” I stated clearly, my eyes fixed on the wall behind them. “So don’t expect any s-sit-down or catch-up. I’m still not ready for that. But…”
My throat made a small clicking sound—one of the newer tics I hated. Then:
“Baptize a blender! Wait—No, I’m fine. I’m fine!”
I straightened my posture, lifted my chin, and turned to face them fully.
“I don’t want y’all out on the street either,” I finished. “My h-husband and I are extending your stay here… until further notice.”
Their eyes widened.
“And Nana Li’s house in Mississippi—the one I grew up in—it’s getting renovated. You two can live there when it’s done.”
My father blinked, stunned, and my mom’s lips parted in surprise.
“We… Naji… that’s…” he started.
“Thank you,” my mom expressed softly.
My father nodded. “Truly.”
Before anything else could be said, Chiamaka jumped in, eyes darting between us.
“Wait—what about me?”
I let a tiny smirk pull at my lips. “Grab your things. You’re coming with me.”
“Are you serious?!” she gasped.
“Yes… iftheywill allow it,” I said, glancing toward our parents.
They exchanged a long, weighted look—one filled with unspoken history and overdue truths. Then, to my surprise, my mom stepped forward.
