Page 99 of My Only

At the time, I agreed with her.

But standing here now feeling the weight of Ayla’s anger in the silence of our house… I wasn’t so sure.

I stepped inside, shutting the door behind me. The air in the house felt thick, like it had absorbed all the tension from earlier and refused to let it go.

The lights were on, most of them. I could hear movement in the kitchen.

I exhaled slowly before making my way toward her.

“How was the dinner?” I asked, stepping into the kitchen.

Ayla didn’t flinch.

Didn’t acknowledge me.

Didn’t even pause what she was doing, pulling dishes from the dishwasher, stacking them in the cabinet with slow, precise movements.

I sighed, setting my laptop bag down on the counter like I did every night.

“I’m sorry I missed it,” I started, keeping my voice calm. “Approving the alternative flooring took longer than I expected.”

Nothing.

Not even a glance.

Ayla just kept going, stacking dish after dish like she had to keep moving or she’d snap.

I clenched my jaw.

She was mad mad… again.

And I wasn’t sure if I had the energy to deal with it.

Ayla shook her head as she closed the dishwasher, her movements stiff and clipped.

I exhaled through my nose, trying to keep my patience in check. It had already been a long day. One problem after another at work, each one demanding my attention. My mind was spent. The last thing I wanted was to come home and find another problem waiting for me here.

And yet… here we were.

The pressure of this project was getting to me. No one understood the weight I was carrying, the responsibility on my shoulders. I had to make sure everything stayed on track. Bryant trusted me to get it done. And I trusted myself too—or at least, I used to.

Lately, I wasn’t feeling as sure.

And the one person who always kept me grounded? The one person who could talk me off the ledge?

She was standing right in front of me, refusing to say a damn word.

“Are you gonna talk to me tonight?” I asked, closing the space between us. “‘Cause, Ayla, I really don’t have the energy for this silent treatment shit. Not tonight.”

“Oh,” she said, finally turning to face me. “You don’t want the silent treatment tonight. That’s good, Hassani. That’s real good. It’s nice that you know what you want.”

I exhaled sharply, my patience thinning. “Man, what is your deal, Ayla? What’s up?”

“I don’t think you understand how much I needed you at my mother’s house tonight,” she said, her voice thick with hurt that hit me square in the chest. “That’s what’s up.”

“I had to work,” I shot back. “What the fuck? You think I wanted to work late? You think I wanted to get home at this hour?”

“I told you about this dinner for weeks, Hassani!” she shouted. “Weeks! And you still bailed on me when I needed you the most.”

---