“I’m not leavin’ you!” I cried, shaking my head, pressing harder with one hand while reaching for my phone in my nursing handbag. “Stay with me. Come on, babe. Look at me. Please!”
His body jerked once. Then again. His eyes rolled back before he caught me with a whisper that barely made it past his lips. “R-Rome…”
“What?” I leaned closer, but his breath had already slowed and then stopped.
I screamed into the phone for help. Strangers filled the area. The music had stopped. The block went quiet except for the sound of my screams echoing off the houses. I shook him, slapped his chest, and begged him to breathe. His blood covered my legs, my dress, and my hands. My wedding ring was barely recognizable.
“Don’t you do this to me, Kamari! Not like this!”
The sirens got closer. Somebody yelled my name. I just stayed there, crying, rocking him in my arms while the lights from the patrol cars painted the street red and blue. Halloweenhad always been my favorite “holiday” until the night my husband took his last breath. That’s when love went cold.
Three Years Later
Ihated this week every year.
It didn’t matter how many years I held it together or how good I got at pretending I was over it. The last few days of October always hit differently. The air felt heavier. My chest stayed tight. The nights got loud as hell in my head. And this year was no different.
Standing in the kitchen, I sipped from my glass of wine and exhaled deeply. I was standing barefoot in a pair of boy shorts and an oversized tee with my mind racing. You would think having a huge house, cars, a closet full of designer clothes, shoes, and bags, and money to go wherever and do whatever would have been enough. Nothing ever was.
Rome was upstairs in the shower. He was that nigga now. Head honcho. Grimwood didn’t move unless he said so. Thesame nigga that used to be King’s right hand and second in command now sat on the throne. And me? I was the woman who never expected to end up here. Not with him. But I did.
It started after the funeral. I was numb, broken, and barely holding on. People kept showing up, dropping off food that I didn’t eat and gifts I never opened. They kept saying shit that didn’t matter. They kept telling me I was strong, that I’d be okay, and that King would want me to move on. But Rome never said none of that. He didn’t say much at all, really. He was just there. He sat in the corner of the living room at the repast, black hoodie on, jaw tight.
When everybody left and the house got quiet, I sat on the bed in one of King’s T-shirts, hugging my knees, and not saying a word. Rome sat beside me. He didn't touch me or speak. He just sat there. And then he came back the next day. And the one after that. And the one after that. We didn’t plan to fuck. It wasn’t some drawn-out flirtation. It was grief. It was anger. It was confusion.
One minute, I was yelling at Rome for not being there that night. Next, he was pressing me up against the hallway wall, kissing me like he couldn’t survive without doing so. And I let him because pain doesn’t know how to say no. I cried the whole time we fucked and he just held me after, like we hadn’t just done something that would change everything.
The first few months, it was chaos. We were in hiding. Not from the streets, but from the guilt. Rome would fuck me like he was trying to erase King’s name off my skin. And I’d let him, hoping the moans would drown out the memories but time kept moving.
Rome took over everything King used to run. He took meetings with people King never trusted. He cleaned up, elevated, and slowly, without ever asking, started showing up asminein public. At first, people looked confused. Then… they just stopped asking questions.
I don’t even remember when I officially became his girl. It wasn’t love at first. It was comfort. Familiarity. He was the only nigga who knew the version of me that died in the street that night. So now, three years later, this was us. Together. But it has never fully felt… right. At least not to me. And this week, with Halloween creeping in, shit felt off as it always did during this time of year.
“Sky!” Rome called from upstairs, his voice echoing down the hall. “You comin’ to bed or what? Been complainin’ a nigga ain’t been home. I’m here. Come on, shorty.”
“I’m comin’,” I said, not moving.
I stayed in the kitchen, staring at the pantry door like something was behind it. The house had felt weird all day. I kept getting chills. I kept hearing the floor creak behind me when nobody was there. And earlier, I swear on everything, I found King’s old hoodie in the hallway closet. The one he had on the night he died. It wasn’t soaked in blood, though. It was clean and still smelled like his YSL cologne and smoke. Rome said I was tripping and I let it go.
I finally made my way upstairs and pushed the door open, pausing for a second. Rome was stretched out across the bed, chains gleaming against his collarbone. All six-foot-four of him, laid back against my pillows, thick thighs parted slightly, nothing on but a pair of black boxer briefs.
His body was carved with shoulders broad like a linebacker, chest solid, arms inked from wrist to bicep with pieces of his past and pain. That golden brown skin of his caught the glow from the TV just right, and his low cut was crisp as hell, waves deep enough to drown in. He had that same unbothered expression he always wore, like he couldn’t be phased by nothing or nobody unless he allowed it. He held a blunt between his fingers and the remote in his other hand. SportsCenter was on the TV.
Rome being fine wasn’t the problem. The sex wasn’t either. The issue was simple: he touched my body, but he never reached my heart. Because no matter how hard I tried to move on, he wasn’t King.
He glanced over lazily when he felt me staring. He didn’t say a word at first, just took a pull from the blunt, and let the smoke curl out of his lips slowly. Finally, he asked, “You good?”
I nodded, even though I wasn’t.“I’m fine.”
“You been off for a minute now.”
“It’s that week, Rome. You know what time it is.”
He exhaled slowly, then sat up. “I’m not him, Sky.”
“I never said you was, Rome.”
“I ain’t gon’ leave you behind like that.”
