Sabine looked at her best friend now, seeing that same patience in her eyes and she knew. This was it. Narri was saying it, without having to say it.
I think it’s time.
And it didn’t mean she was healed. It didn’t mean she forgot. It didn’t mean she owed Adair anything. It just meant…she’d always known her heart might find its way back and Narri had always known how to stand beside her when it did.
Sabine swallowed hard. The room was too quiet. Her body was too full of noise, but she felt that warmth between them again. That quiet agreement forged in the honesty of two broken women who had seen each other through every version of love and loss.
And it scared the shit out of her.
Because maybe it really was time.
“He’s trying, Sabine. Nigga even took me out for lunch the other day so I know it was real. He know my ass like to eat,” she joked then reigned it in quickly. “I saw it. Felt it. He looked likehe was carrying Ariyah’s ghost on his back the whole time we talked.”
At that, Sabine’s throat thickened.
“I’m not saying forgive him today,” Narri said. “But if he’s showing up with real regret, not just guilt, maybe…just maybe that means something…it’s only for you to feel though. Only you will know if that man is truly remorseful and deserves you back.”
Sabine stood, walking over to the window. The city buzzed outside, a blur of motion that didn’t stop for heartbreak or healing. She wrapped her arms around herself.
“Knowing…she is going to be in meetings. Knowing I have to walk into conference rooms and they will be on the same side…how do I know that won’t set what I feel now back? How do I even face that?”
“You ain’t gotta face her. You gotta faceyou. The you who’s still healing. The you who’s still hurting. The you who knows how to pick herself up when everybody else moves on.” Narri stood and walked to Sabine’s side, voice firmer now. “You don’t owe her shit but fuck that bitch, this isn’t even about her, it never was. Let’s just see how serious Adair really is when all of us are sitting around that conference table.”
Narri was right. It was never about Corrine. That woman had just been the blade but Adair handed her the handle. Still, even with all the blood, Sabine had never stopped wondering what it would feel like to stop bracing for the next cut. To stop punishing him for what he couldn’t undo. To stop punishing herself for still giving a damn.
Because she did.
She still gave a damn.
And that…was the part that scared her most.
“I…I do think he’s trying.” Sabine’s lips trembled.
“Then let him try but don’t let him bypass the parts of you that still don’t feel safe. That’s what you did last time. Youheld your breath to keep the peace. Don’t do that again, Bine. You deserve air. This time, you stand up for yourself. Defend yourself. Your family.”
Sabine let out a long, jagged exhale. “I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to look at me like I’m weak.”
“Girl, please.” Narri wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close again. “You ain’t weak. You’re just cracked open right now. It’s a difference. Weak ispretendingnothing got to you. Weak is refusing to face what happened. You? You just finally feeling all of it and vulnerable. That’s notweak, that’s strength. It takes a very strong person to relive what you been through, to forgive and let go. Ain’t shit weak about my friend.”
“I just…I don’t want to be stupid.” Sabine rested her head on Narri’s shoulder.
“You’re not stupid. You’re just in love with a man who fucked upterribly…but…you know we together forever, and I got your back, wrong or right,butif…if Ihadto play devil’s advocate,” she began, and Sabine turned her way. “You could’ve talked to him too, Best.” She held her hand up before Sabine could protest. “I know. Iknow. You called me damn near every day about that man but when he came home? You was quiet as a church mouse. I’m not saying he didn’t owe you more, and I’m not saying he shouldn’t have noticed. But what if…what if he was just as lost as you were? What if he was drowning too and didn’t know how to say it?”
Another ugly truth. One she never said aloud but carried, folded and hidden under all the bigger wounds. A truth that didn’t scream but still pulsed beneath her skin. Adair’s fuck-up was louder. Louder than everything. It was final, it was damn near violent in its timing, in its selfishness—but–it wasn’t the only thing that broke them.
It was just the last.
Still…there was a lead-up. A slow storm gathering and she had been part of it, too.
A piece of her knew that. Always had.
“I’m not excusingshit,” Narri added quickly. “I’m just saying…just like he could’ve thrown you a life vest, you could’ve tossed him one too. He’s at the bottom right now because of what happened with Ariyah, but maybe it’s time to talk aboutwhyy’all marriage was even underwater by then. What had y’all that far gone when you went into labor in the first place?”
The bar was elevated—literally and a vibe. Twinkle lights zigzagged overhead as city sounds softened beneath them. Sabine sat perched on a high stool, legs crossed, fingers tapping against a chilled glass of mezcal and lime. The rooftop bar was packed just enough to feel alive but not crowded—cool jazz playing from hidden speakers, candles flickering on tables, and the “staying late at the office” crowd looking for a simple wind down after a long day.
Harlan was already two drinks in and still sharp. There was something casual about him tonight—button-down open at the collar, blazer off, watch glinting every time he lifted his glass. He was so smooth to Sabine. Like a black James Bond.
“I needed this drink so bad,” she said, exhaling.