She gripped both hands tight on the steering wheel, eyes straight ahead. The radio played something slow and warm in the background, but the car felt cold.
Zay sat in the passenger seat, hoodie up, tapping through the internet on his Motorola Razr. His face was bright, pressing the keys on the pad to type out “on the way now” through text. His leg bounced with nervous energy. He was happy. Free. He felt like the world had finally called his name.
She glanced at him and hoped he’d catch the way her eyes didn’t match her face. She hoped he’d see that she was breaking.
He didn’t.
She fought back tears when she pulled to the curb of the terminal. His group was already waiting, carrying duffel bags and cracking jokes. The energy was light, alive, and promising.
Zay leaned over and hugged her quick. Barely holding her.
“You gonna be good?” he asked, like this was normal.
She nodded. Couldn’t speak. If she spoke, she would have broken, and she didn’t want to ruin this moment for him. He noticed something wasn’t right, but he wasn’t quite sure what it was.
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” she lied.
He kissed her forehead, grabbed his bag out the back seat from the middle of them, and opened the door. He stepped up onto the curb. The others waved and called her name. She waved back, her throat tight.
Zay slammed the car door shut, turned, and headed toward them. His stride was quick, full of purpose. When he was halfway between her and the airport doors, she called out to him.
“Zay!”
He stopped, turned around in place, and stared at her.
“Be careful,” she said, voice trembling.
He smiled and nodded his head. Then, he turned and kept walking.
She sat there long enough to watch him disappear behind the glass doors. The engine still ran, and rain began to fall.
When the ache got too heavy to hold in, she broke.
Her body folded over the wheel, and sobs shook her shoulders. The horn honked briefly under the weight, but she didn’t care. Tears streamed down her cheeks, fast and hot. The necklace he gave her the night before sat against her skin like a lie.
It didn’t feel like a promise anymore.
It felt like a goodbye.
Back To Where It Broke
The car ridewas quiet at first. Not tense, just a little heavy. Love kept her eyes on the road, fingers wrapped tight around the steering wheel. The city slowly came to life around them as they left the neighborhood and drove into the city toward her daughter’s school.
Yana was curled into the passenger seat with her legs tucked beneath her. She kept fidgeting with the drawstrings of her hoodie, tugging and pulling, then twisted them into knots that would only unravel moments later.
As they turned onto the last street before the school, Love caught the way Yana shifted in her seat. She stiffened herposture and bounced her knee up and down. Her gaze dropped to her lap like she wished she could shrink herself out of sight, and her shoulders were slightly hunched like she was bracing for something. Love recognized it instantly. Hell, she’d done it herself more times than she could count. It was that silent, emotional prep of armor a woman put on before walking back into a place where her heart cracked.
“Do y’all have the first class of the day together?” Love asked.
Yana hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Him and his crew think they so funny. They be laughing real loud and acting like they the main characters or something.”
The corners of Love’s mouth turned up a little. “Typical.”
Yana finally cracked a small smile. “I know, right? Like, boy, nobody cares that you made varsity.”
They both laughed, and the tension eased for a moment, but when the school came into view, Yana’s shoulders rose again.
