KIMANI
I was sprawled across my bed, hair a mess, laptop open, and my friends on the screen for our usual video chat. Malik, of course, had his “supportive gay bestie” face on, leaning dramatically into the camera. Denise had her nails up close, admiring the fresh glittery tips, and Zendaya was eating popcorn like she was watching a movie.
“So,” Malik started, too gently for my liking, “we’re just not going to talk about the ghost of boyfriends past?”
I arched a brow. “If you mean Jason, there’s nothing to talk about. The man left me at the altar. Period. End of story. Curtain closed.”
“Yeah, but…” Zendaya’s voice softened, unusual for her. “Doesn’t it still… hurt?”
I went quiet, staring at the ceiling for a beat. Did it? Once, maybe. Back when I thought my world would collapse withou
