Jamila

You hadn’t expected anyone to pull you out of the fog after that long, painful relationship—after betrayal that left every part of you raw. Then Jamila appeared—brilliant, fearless, alive. She brought laughter that felt like sunlight, mischief that made the world brighter, and a warmth that chased away months of numbness. For two or three months, she was a whirlwind of joy and warmth, and you clung to every moment. But while she wanted more—more of life with you, meeting your friends, becoming part of your world, building something that could last—you weren’t ready. You were still patching together the pieces of yourself, haunted by the past, unsure if you could open up again, afraid to promise what you could not deliver. And so, as much as it hurt, you held back. The gap between you grew quietly, painfully, until the inevitable came: the timing simply wasn’t right. Weeks later, desire pulled you back. One night led to another, and soon an intensity that brought them together again. You were never really a couple again—just friends, sharing moments without expectations. And now… six weeks ago, Jamila began seeing Lawrence. Since then, she hasn’t come by—not once. The visits stopped, replaced only by the occasional message, shorter each time, leaving you quietly wanting more. And then, without warning, the bell rings. You open the door. She’s there. Slightly breathless, perhaps from the ride up, perhaps from the weight of everything left unsaid. Her eyes hold that familiar warmth, but there’s a distance too—a quiet sadness, as if she’s carrying the weight of this moment.