| 19 |

35 1 0

by goldwingbaby

by goldwingbaby

Your POV

It was a regular Saturday afternoon, and sunlight streamed through the windows of your cozy little home salon. The sweet scent of nail polish filled the air as you carefully painted your client’s nails a stunning shade of coral. The gentle chatter between you both added a warmth to the room, and you were in your zone. Just as you finished the last stroke, though, the door swung open with a bang, and your sister, Beatrice, stormed in like a hurricane.
Beatrice: Y/n! You have to explain yourself right now!
She yelled, her voice echoing with frustration. Your heart sank as you looked at her, knowing this wasn’t going to end well.
You: What happened?
You asked, trying to keep your composure while wiping your hands on a towel.
Beatrice: Did you really think it was funny? Embarrassing me at Kevin’s wedding?!
She shouted, her cheeks flushed.
Beatrice: I can’t believe now NBA YoungBoy won’t even talk to me!
You blinked in surprise. Kevin was Bee's ex-boyfriend—it had ended badly, and you thought you were doing her a favor by cracking a joke during the reception to lighten the mood. But clearly, you miscalculated. The thought of her infatuation with NBA YoungBoy twisted your stomach; you couldn’t help feeling defensive.
Y

ou: Bee, I was just trying to cheer everyone up. I didn’t mean to embarrass you!
You shot back, frustration rising. Her eyes narrowed, and she shook her head vehemently. Beatrice: Well, now you’ve ruined everything! I hate you, Y/n!
But before you could respond, there came a soft yet firm knock at the door. Your heart raced with anticipation. Could it be? You opened the door, and there he was: NBA YoungBoy, standing not more than a few feet away, a bouquet of vibrant flowers in his hands, looking as if he had just walked off a magazine cover. Beatrice gasped, her anger forgotten, and you felt the world tilt on its axis. Your heart, which had been sinking into despair, now raced with a cacophony of hope and misery. He looked stunning—his eyes reflected a mixture of determination and something softer, deeper.
Kentrell: Hey, Y/n,
He greeted you, but then turned his gaze to Beatrice, his expression shifting.
Kentrell: I came to talk to you. Beatrice, I’ve been thinking about you. You’re incredible. I want to see where this goes.
You felt ice forming around your heart as your sister’s face lit up with disbelief and joy.
Beatrice: You... you want to be with me?
She stammered, her previous anger completely evaporated. You stood there, frozen, the flowers in his hand blurring in your vision. You had always loved NBA YoungBoy from a distance, admiring him for his talent and charm while desperately wishing for a chance to articulate your feelings. Now, as he confessed his heart’s desire with your sister standing beside you, tears stung your eyes. As he looked back at you for a moment, you could have sworn you saw something in his eyes that lingered—something that questioned if this was truly what he wanted, or if he was just caught in the whirlwind of the moment. But the clarity faded quickly as Beatrice stepped closer, excitement bubbling in her voice like champagne. Suddenly, you felt small and insignificant. Your world felt like it was being pulled apart by the fervor of their budding romance, and the jealousy that bubbled up inside you were a venomous thing. You fled to the back room, unable to bear witness any longer. Behind the shut door, you sank onto your favorite chair, resting your head in your hands. The vibrant laughter echoed faintly from the front room, but it was a distant sound now, an incomplete melody you could no longer play. You could feel NBA YoungBoy’s presence in your mind, the charm of his smile, the lyrics he penned that resonated with your heart—yet he was declaring love for your sister of all people. Moments later, the door creaked open, and he stepped in, flowers in hand.
Kentrell: Y/n...
He started, but you held up a hand.
You: You should go,
You whispered, the words choking you barely enough to escape.
You: She’s been waiting for this—just go be happy.
He hesitated, and in that suspended moment, you saw his eyes searching mine.
Kentrell: But I—
You: Just go.
You repeated, your voice rising, trembling with the weight of what you were letting slip away. You knew that love meant wanting what was best for someone else, no matter the cost to your heart. He dropped his gaze, a defeated sigh escaping his lips.
Kentrell: Alright. I just wanted you to know—
But he stopped short, realizing there was nothing more to say. And with that, he left, leaving you alone in the soft glow of the fading afternoon light, a bittersweet ache settling deep within your chest. Emotions tangled like the scissors and brushes in your salon, you took a deep breath and reminded yourself that love, even when unreturned, can still spark courage.
Tonight, you would put on your favorite nail polish, the shade of the ocean, and try to drown out the bittersweet ache with the rhythm of a fresh start—because you were Y/n, and the love you felt would find its own way, one day.