From where I sat, I couldn’t fully see her body behind the counter. But the face? That was her. She looked a little worn down—more tired than I remembered—but it was definitely her ass standing there causing a scene in the middle of the emergency room.
My hands curled into fists at my sides without permission.
She said that was her baby?
Nah.
No fuckin' way.
The thought hit first, followed immediately by the next one, sharper and more dangerous.
What kind of game is this?
Because this isn’t a misunderstanding anymore; this is a setup… a chessboard. And somehow, I’ve already been playing without realizing somebody else moved first.
The baby’s screaming intensified, cutting through my thoughts like nails on a chalkboard. Talia’s voice rose higher and more frantic. I watched her shift the baby and how she held it,protective and desperate, like it was the only thing in the world that mattered.
My posture straightened slowly, tension rolling through me like a storm.
I stood slowly; eyes locked onto her while fury started simmering beneath my skin.
I was halfway across the waiting room before I even realized I’d started moving.
Each step felt heavier than the last. My Timbs hit that linoleum with purpose, with weight, with the kind of inevitability that made people instinctively move out of the way without knowing why.
A nurse accidentally stepped into my path near the water fountain. I brushed right past her without breaking stride, without even acknowledging her existence. She said something—probably an apology or a warning—but I didn't hear it. I couldn't hear anything except the blood rushing in my ears and that baby’s relentless screaming and Talia’s voice still arguing with the receptionist like she didn’t feel me coming.
By the time I reached the nurse’s station, a strange silence had settled over the waiting room. One nurse looked at me, then at Talia, then back at me, like she suddenly realized she was standing in the middle of something she wanted no part of.
Talia’s back was still to me. Her shoulders were hunched and her whole body radiated exhaustion and desperation. I stopped directly behind her, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her body. My hand shot out and grabbed the back of her hoodie collar. My fingers curled into the fabric with controlled aggression, with the kind of force that meant business.
I yanked her backward slightly. She gasped—a sharp, strangled sound—and her words died mid-sentence, cut off like someone had flipped a switch.
The entire waiting room went silent, even the baby stopped screaming for a beat, confused by the sudden violence of the movement.
I leaned in close to her ear, my jaw clenched so tight it felt like it might crack, and let the question drop to a cold, dangerous whisper.
“What the fuck you on, shawty?”
TO BE CONTINUED…
