Page 58 of Love's Free Will

I turned back to Royal and the woman who refused to leave. “Aye, I’mma tell you this one fuckin’ time. Get that bitch outta there or I’m fuckin’ up this studio.”

Royal whispered something to the girl, and she rolled her eyes before walking out of the booth, looking me up and down like I was inconveniencing her. Royal walked out the booth right behind her, jaw tight, voice hot and when the studio door closed, he finally spoke.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here, Averi?”

I stepped forward. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here, using one of my tracks that you specifically told me you didn’t fuckin’ want. I produced that track Royal and you ain’t got me up in here to monitor my work why? Because you got these bitches up in here?”

“Mannn, fuck all that.” He replied. “Why the fuck you here bruh?”

I paused, gathering myself before I snapped on his ass then calmly replied. “I came to see you. To talk to you. Before I leave.”

“You shoulda left already,” he snapped. “Ain’t nobody ask you to stay.”

I flinched. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

He scoffed. “You. You what’s wrong.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

He stepped in closer, eyes wild with hurt. “I shouldn’t have been with yo ass that night. If I was with my brother like I was supposed to be?—”

“Royal.”

“I FUCKIN’ BLAME YOU,” he shouted. Silence swallowed the studio. “You think you helping, but all you did was distract me. I was supposed to be there with him, not laid up with you. This shit ain’t real, this wasn’t nothin’ but the devil distractin me.”

My stomach twisted. “So… what? Everything we had was fake?”

“It was temporary. You ain’t my girl. You ain’t my wife. You just… were there.”

My mouth fell open in shock. Tears threatening to spill from my eyes. Then, I felt the sting of my hand connecting to his face before I even realized I was moving. That slap echoed, loudly around the studio. He staggered back, shock in his eyes.

“Fuck you Royal. You’re a fuckin’ bitch ass nigga and you don’t deserve me.” Without speaking another word, I turned storming out the studio past Zay and Malachi, the women were gone. I couldn’t even look at them, embarrassed as fuck that I had let that nigga play me. They called after me, but I didn’t stop.

Later that night, I boarded a red eye back to California. No goodbye, no closure. Just heartbreak in a carry-on bag. Between my family and Royal, I was done with Atlanta. It ain’t have shit else to offer me and I promised myself I would never be back.

By the timeI touched down in L.A., I was drained. Emotionally, physically, and spiritually.

The weekend passed in a blur of weed, wine, candles, comfort food, and silence. I didn’t answer my phone. Didn’t check social media. I needed space from everything—and everyone. Just long enough to gather the pieces of myself Royal had shattered.

But Monday morning didn’t care about heartbreak. I pulled my hair into a slick ponytail, put on a pair of dark jeans, a white blouse, and a pink blazer to match my pink Givenchy heels I’d purchased while I was in Atlanta. I dabbed concealer under my eyes and headed into the meeting we’d postponed weeks ago.

Egypt, Serenity, and I sat at the long marble table inside the CW conference room, our agents flanking us like bodyguards as a stern executive gave the speech we already knew was coming.

“The network has decided not to renew The Coven for another season.”

Just like that. No tears. No gasps. Just a heavy silence and the kind of knowing glance passed between friends who had already braced for impact.

Serenity was the first to speak. “Damn. So that’s it, huh?”

The exec nodded. “It’s been an incredible run—groundbreaking, really. But the network is shifting to a new programming model.”

Translation: they want cheap drama, not Black women casting spells and building sisterhood.

Egypt leaned back in her chair; arms crossed. “Their loss.”

And honestly? She was right. As heartbreaking as it was, we’d known this was coming. The ratings were strong, the fanbase loyal, but shows like ours didn’t get to thrive forever. Not here. Still, the ache was real.

“This just means more time for you to open that studio, Tootie,” I said, bumping my shoulder against Serenity’s.

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