The house was quiet when we got home.
Aamon and Frank walked behind me like shadows, not saying a word. I could feel their eyes on me, waiting, maybe even wanting me to break. The silence between us wasn't comfortable it was heavy. And I hated it.
I turned to them.
I wanted to say something. Explain. Ask why they didn't warn me properly. Ask why they let me go out there alone like that.
But before a word left my mouth, my phone vibrated.
Team Santana.
Our underground contact. Our whisperers in the shadows of Copperbelt. I picked up the call, heart thudding in my chest, thinking maybe it was a warning maybe she had changed her mind.
But no.
"Bro," the voice said. "She's getting engaged to the Youngson family."
The name hit me like a truck.
Youngson.
The legend. The king. The unbeatable underground dealer. Powerful. Ruthless. Feared. The top dog of Copperbelt. No one crossed him, and no one got close unless they were chosen.
Chosen like Rose was.
My vision blurred. My knees weakened. I sat down slowly on the edge of my bed.
It all clicked.
The late-night texts. The vague replies. The times she said she was "with Shanel," but never picked up video calls.
The name Ammos that kept popping up she always said, "Ammos will take me home," and I thought he was Shanel's boyfriend.
Stupid.
Delusional.
Delulu.
That's what she called me that day. When I begged her, when I showed her the ring she laughed and said,
You're so delulu, it's embarrassing.
At the time, I thought it was just anger talking. But now now I see it.
She'd been calling me crazy because I was. I was crazy enough to believe love could overpower bloodlines. I was crazy enough to think she was waiting for me.
To think she was still mine.
I opened my phone again. The pictures were everywhere now Rose standing beside Ammos Youngson, his arm wrapped around her waist like she was already his wife.
She was smiling.
Not forced. Not fake. Happy.
She was glowing in a dress I didn't buy, holding flowers I didn't send, and laughing like I had never existed.
I sat there in the dark room. No light. No music. No voice.
Only pain.
My head fell into my hands. And for the first time in years, I cried.
I didn't sob like a child no. It was quiet. Bitter. The kind of cry that chokes you from the inside and leaves no tears left for the future.
Aamon and Frank stood at the door.
Neither of them said a word.
Maybe they didn't know what to say.
Maybe they knew there was nothing they could say.
Because I wasn't just heartbroken
I was waking up.