“It took me two years to realize he was all lies, manipulation, and empty promises. I finally learned to believe what he showed me instead of what I wanted to see. My therapist put it into perspective. She said I was shopping for bread at Home Depot. That no matter how badly I wanted a loaf, I was never going to find it there.”
“That’s deep,” I say.
“Right? It really clicked. Hollis didn’t support my ambitions. My desires. He wanted me smaller so he could feel bigger. I think that’s why he cheated. I saw the sext messages. Women fawning over him, feeding his ego.”
My fists curl in the sheets. “So he was a lying, insecure m’budka on top of everything else.”
“Yes,” she sighs. “Leaving him was the best decision I made. I’d stopped loving him long before I left. I was just clinging to some desperate hope he’d grow into the man I needed.”
“I’m sorry he hurt you.” My voice lowers. “But for the record, I’m not Home Depot. I’m DK’s Bakery. Fresh bread served daily.”
She laughs, that full-throated sound I love. “That was terrible.”
I smile into the dark. “That was elite wordplay. And facts.”
“Well,” she says, playing along, “if you’re delivering, I like sourdough.”
“Noted.” I let the humor fade, then say, “I’m not going to hurt you, Luna.”
A pause. “It’s not you I don’t trust,” she says without defense. “It’s trusting myself again.”
That I understand. “It messes with you when you think your judgment failed.”
“Mhm. Speaking from experience?”
“Yes.” I stare at the ceiling. “Not the same situation. But I relate.”
“In what way?”
Luna knows about the insomnia. What she doesn’t know is what happened in D.C. I gave her the sanitized version. Clean edges. No wreckage. But if part of spending time together is for her to decide whether this is real—she deserves to hear the full truth about me.
“It’s a long story,” I say. “I’ll tell you next weekend.”
“Okay.” She doesn’t push. “What does DK stand for?”
“Dakarai Kawayan.”
“Ka-WAH-yahn,” she repeats carefully. “Did I say it right?”
“Perfect. It means bamboo. Represents strength. Durability.”
“And Dakarai?”
“Happiness and joy.”
“So strength and joy.” I hear her smiling.
“Do you have a middle name?”
“Nope. Just Rayne.”
“Stands on its own,” I say, turning onto my side. “Reinein French means queen. Suits you.”
She makes the softest sound. “You got me in my feels with that one. I always thought of it as rain—r-a-i-n. Hence my campaign slogan.”
“I saw your response. It was smart… leaning into that experience-doesn’t-mean-years-of-politics angle.”
“I told you I’m coming hard.”
