𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐄𝐃™

Ll 2

Asaad - Asa

I still spent quality time with Kesha. Not because I wanted her, but because she was carrying our child.

Almost every time we met, she'd try and convince me that we were meant to be and.. blah blah blah.

My mind blanked out a lot when she spoke.

"Here," I cut through her sentence, handing her some money so she could finish the baby shower she was planning.

She snatched it from my hands and dug it straight into her purse. "You don't even listen to me anymore. What if our son sees that his dad doesn't even pay attention to his mom?"

I took a deep breath, holding it in for a second before exhaling. "I'm just tired."

She flipped through the menu, ready to down on some breakfast as she hummed to herself. "Oh I bet you are. Isis must be keeping you up ALL NIGHT!"

I sucked my cheek in and cleared my throat, while finally resting my back against the seat.

I wasn't shocked that she knew Isis was staying with me. Kesha was a detective, but I was under the impression that all women were when they wanted to find something.

The only thing I questioned is how she found out and how many other people know since she's notorious for running her mouth, especially when angry.

"You quiet now?" She blabbered, waiting for a reaction that she'd never get. "Cause you know I don't like that white bitch! But once she come to me saying how our nigga has been acting weird lately. How our nigga has a girl staying in his crib. I already fucking knew who it was!"

I dreaded these weekly meets, even if it lasted for a minute.

"Good morning, are you guys finished here?" One of the waiters asked, itching to take our menus for the forth time, but Kesha frequently denied to extend conversation.

"Yea." I handed mine in as Kesha stammered with a no.

"And she's ready too." I nearly tugged her's away as she held onto it with a grip. After I obtained the menu, I turned it in.

Within seconds, she was entertaining her thoughts of making me pay for the fact that Isis was in my home.

Kesha ordered the WHOLE menu as a means to drain my pockets and force me to react, but I still refused.

"I just don't get it," She stressed, once the first two plates reached the table. I could feel her intense eyes glowering over me. It was clear she was upset.

"What don't you get?" I finally gave her my attention.

"Why do I get treated like this, and she gets to come back to your house? Why do I get to cry everyday missing my relationship, but this bitch gets 24/7 access to you? Why is it that you couldn't forgive me, but you could forgive her and what she did was worse than what I did!"

I could see the hurt in her face. The way her head wanted to drop from admitting her feelings and even how sunken her posture was.

At some point of my life I thought or felt like I loved Kesha, and that's because mama did. It influenced how I felt about her a little. We were never compatible.

Now, I actually felt bad and seeing her block her face with her arm didn't make me feel any better.

Maybe, the reason why it was easier for me to be resistant towards Kesha was because I was always looking for a way out and once I got a good enough excuse to leave, I took it.

I had to be honest with myself, she was always jealous of people she didn't need to be jealous of, she was always accusing me of cheating - though she was given my phone every night, she was always nagging in my ear, always wanted her way.