Got you
Chapter Two
The silence in the car was louder than the traffic.
Marcus drove with one hand on the steering wheel, the other draped casually across the center console, fingers tapping in a rhythm that didn't match the music playing softly from the speakers. Nia sat stiffly in the passenger seat, her coat still on, hands folded in her lap.
"You was real quiet back there," Marcus said finally, eyes still on the road.
Nia shifted. "I'm tired."
He hummed, unconvinced. "Tired from what?"
"It was a long day."
Marcus laughed under his breath. "Funny how you wasn't tired when you was talking to her."
Nia's chest tightened. She turned her head to look out the window, watching the city blur past in streaks of light.
"I was just being polite," she said.
"Polite," Marcus repeated. "You was laughing."
"So?"
"So you don't laugh like that with me no more."
That wasn't true. Or maybe it was. Nia didn't know anymore. She felt like every memory had started rearranging itself, like Marcus's voice was editing her past in real time.
"I didn't do anything wrong," she said quietly.
Marcus exhaled through his nose. "I didn't say you did."
But his tone said otherwise.
They rode the rest of the way home in silence. When they pulled up to the apartment building, Marcus didn't wait for her to unbuckle before getting out. Nia followed a step behind, keys clutched tightly in her hand.
Inside, the apartment felt colder than usual.
Marcus dropped his jacket on the chair and turned to face her. "I don't like you over there like that."
Nia froze. "Over where?"
"At Simone's," he said. "By yourself. Talking all personal."
"She invited both of us," Nia replied. "You were late."
"That's not the point."
"What is the point?" she asked, her voice trembling despite her effort to stay calm.
Marcus stepped closer. Not touching her. Just close enough.
"The point is I don't trust her."
Nia frowned. "Why?"
"Because she always trying to prove something. Always trying to pull people to her side."
"What side?" Nia asked.
Marcus stared at her for a long moment. "You really asking me that?"
Nia felt heat creep up her neck. "She hasn't done anything to me."
"That you know of," Marcus snapped.
She flinched.
Marcus softened instantly, reaching for her face. "Baby, I'm just looking out for you. You too naïve sometimes."
Naïve. That word followed her everywhere.
"I don't want you over there without me," he said. "Promise me."
Nia hesitated.
Marcus's hand dropped. "Why you hesitating?"
"I just—"
"Promise me."
She nodded. "Okay."
He smiled then, satisfied, and pulled her into a hug. Nia stood stiff in his arms, staring over his shoulder at the wall.
---
The days that followed blurred together.
Work. Commute. Home. Marcus.
Nia worked at a small marketing firm downtown, her days filled with emails and deadlines and the constant pressure to prove she belonged. She used to love it—used to feel proud walking through the city with purpose. Lately, everything felt muted.
Marcus texted constantly.
Where you at?
Who you with?
Why you take so long to respond?
She told herself it was love. Concern. Care.
But some part of her felt like she was shrinking.
One afternoon, she found herself standing outside Simone's brownstone without fully remembering how she got there.
She stared up at the door, heart racing. Marcus was at work. He wouldn't know.
She told herself she just needed someone to talk to.
Before she could change her mind, the door opened.
Simone looked surprised—but pleased. "Hey," she said. "You okay?"
Nia nodded too quickly. "Yeah. I was just in the area."
"Mmhmm," Simone said gently. "Come on in."
Inside, the house felt the same as before—warm, calm, safe. Simone poured them both tea and they sat at the kitchen table, sunlight spilling in through the window.
"You look tired," Simone said.
Nia sighed. "Everyone keeps saying that."
"Because it's true."
Nia laughed weakly. "I don't even know why I'm tired."
Simone studied her for a moment. "You ever feel like you gotta explain yourself all the time?"
The question hit hard.
Nia swallowed. "Yeah."
"You ever feel like no matter what you do, it's never quite right?"
Her eyes burned. "Yeah."
Simone leaned back slightly. "That'll wear you down."
Nia stared at her hands. "Marcus says I'm sensitive."
Simone's jaw tightened—not angrily, but protectively. "Sensitive ain't a flaw."
Nia looked up. "He says I overthink."
Simone met her gaze. "Sometimes overthinking is just your intuition begging you to listen."
Silence stretched between them, thick with meaning.
"I shouldn't be here," Nia whispered.
Simone didn't argue. "But you are."
Nia felt something crack open inside her.
They talked for hours. About work. About the city. About Simone's life—how she left home young, how she built her own family, how peace was something she fought for.
"I didn't lose my family," Simone said. "They lost access to me."
Nia absorbed that like scripture.
When she finally left, her chest felt lighter—and heavier all at once.
---
Marcus noticed the change immediately.
"You smiling too much," he said one night, watching her from across the room.
Nia froze. "What?"
"You been acting different," he continued. "Distant."
"I've just been thinking."
"About what?"
"About us."
The room went still.
Marcus stood slowly. "What about us?"
Nia's hands shook. "I don't feel like myself anymore."
Marcus laughed sharply. "So now it's my fault?"
"I didn't say that."
"You don't gotta," he snapped. "You been letting that woman get in your head."
Nia's heart pounded. "Simone didn't say anything bad about you."
"She don't have to," Marcus said. "Her existence is disrespect."
"That's not fair," Nia said before she could stop herself.
Marcus's eyes darkened. "You defending her now?"
"I'm just saying—"
"You choosing sides?"
"No!"
He stepped closer, voice low. "Because I don't compete with nobody."
Nia felt tears spill over. "I just want to feel okay."
Marcus stared at her, then sighed dramatically, pulling her into his chest. "You making problems where there ain't none."
She cried silently against him, unsure when love started feeling like this.
---
Later that night, unable to sleep, Nia lay staring at the ceiling.
Her phone buzzed.
A text from Simone.
You don't gotta reply. Just checking on you.
Nia stared at the screen for a long time.
Then she typed back.
Thank you.
Two words. But they felt like a lifeline.
She rolled onto her side, clutching the phone to her chest, a strange warmth spreading through her.
For the first time, Nia wondered if love was supposed to feel safe.
And the thought terrified her.