Page 10 of Tension

His voice softened, like we hadn’t just been arguing. “So you just gon’ leave me like this? Knowing I ain’t got nobody but you?”

I shook my head. I’d heard this speech too many times.

The guilt trip.

The pity plea.

I was so dumb to ever think he was sincere when he said these things. Now I’m numb to it.

“You're a grown-ass man who’s been ‘gettin’ on your feet’ for five damn years. And cheating that whole time.”

“Man, see, why you always bring up the past? You did some things. I did some things. Let’s move on, baby.”

“I ain’t done shit, and you know it! It’s been you. It’s always you. What the fuck do I even get out of this relationship?”

“You always bring up that you pay for everything. Damn, just give me a chance. That’s what’s wrong with Black women now, can't hold their man down…” He raised and lowered his arms like he was truly flabbergasted that I didn't want his sorry ass anymore.

I spotted his phone on the table. Unlocked. He was too busy whining to notice.

My heart raced. I grabbed it and ran to the bathroom, locking the door before he could stop me.

He was banging on the door, yelling that I wouldn’t find nothin’ and to just give him back his phone.

The first message read:

‘Damn bitch, you burned me.’

Sent last night.

No other messages in the chat.

No reply.

I guess we both just found out.

I didn’t see any other messages that raised alarms, so I checked his folders.

I opened the videos. One new download. Him fucking some woman from the back. No condom. I quickly recorded it with my phone, the last bit of proof I needed.

I heard something scraping the lock. When he got in, the video was playing at full volume, nasty and undeniable.

“That’s old as hell. From when we was on a break,” he lied again.

“It's the same hairstyle that's in your head now, and there’s a message still there, too,” I said, walking past him and tossing his phone down, done with this conversation.

I didn't raise my voice. Didn't cry. Just said, “Get your stuff and get out.”

“Baby, don’t do this. I made one mistake. I need you. Where I’ma go?”

“Go to the bitch's house that gave you chlamydia,” I said, walking away more exhausted than before. “You can go to hell for all I care.”

Brian left. I scanned the apartment. His stuff was still here, and he still had a key.

He'd be back.

Feeling heavy, I decided to pack a few bags and leave my own apartment.

I just needed to get away.