In Too Deep

EPISODE 3

Chapter 4

Jayla

Two months after we met, Tiana moved in.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. It started with her leaving a toothbrush, then a drawer full of clothes.

Then somehow half the damn closet was hers, and I was stepping over her stilettos on my way to the bathroom every morning.

I was still crashing at my sister's apartment — a small two-bedroom above a bodega, loud pipes, thin walls — but it felt like home. Especially once Tiana’s perfume started soaking into the sheets.

When she asked if she could stay “for a little while," it didn’t even occur to me to say no.

She didn’t have to beg.

I wanted her there.

God, I wanted her so bad it hurt.

"You sure?" she asked, standing in the doorway with her bag, eyes uncertain for once.

"I’m sure," I said, grabbing her hand and pulling her inside.

If I’d been smarter, maybe I would’ve hesitated.

Maybe I would’ve asked what are we really doing?

But back then, I didn’t know how to think when it came to her.

All I knew was I couldn’t stand the thought of sleeping without her next to me.

Tiana

Living with Jayla felt easy at first.

Too easy.

Like we were playing house.

We cooked together, half burning everything because she couldn’t keep her hands off me long enough to flip the pancakes.

We made up dumb inside jokes, watched terrible reality shows at 2AM, slow-danced in the tiny kitchen just because we could.

The s*x was still new and greedy and constant.

Every time I climbed into her lap, every time she kissed the small of my back while I made coffee half-n***d, every time we stayed in bed till noon wrapped up in each other —

It was like feeding some wild, starving thing inside me.

I didn’t think about all the reasons I usually kept people at arm's length.

I didn’t think about how messy it was going to get.

I just let it happen.

Jayla

She made me feel invincible and terrified. I wanted to do everything for her.

Pick up extra shifts, scrape together money to take her out, make her proud of me but no matter what I did, I always felt like it wasn’t enough.

She was a model — beautiful, magnetic, talented.

And me? I was unemployed, hustling, trying to break into an industry that barely noticed I existed.

Sometimes when she was scrolling through her phone, laughing at messages from her friends — friends she’d been with before, friends she still "kicked it" with — I felt that old bitter thing curl up inside my chest.

I hated feeling jealous.

I hated the ugly, clingy part of me that wanted to lock her away from the world.

But every time she said, “I’m going out with Jude,” or “I’m crashing at Lily’s,” my mind went spinning.

Were they touching her?

Was she thinking about them while she lay next to me?

I didn’t know how to ask without sounding crazy.

I didn’t know how to tell her that even if she came home to me, the fact she had ever loved someone else still hurt.

Tiana

Jayla didn't hide her jealousy well.

Sometimes she acted cool about it, joked, tried to brush it off.

But when I stayed out late — when I texted her at 3AM saying "I'm safe, see you tomorrow" — I could feel the shift in her even through the phone.

Cold responses and silent treatments.

Long, tense pauses where the "I’m fine" was anything but.

At first, I thought it was cute.

Proof that she cared, but then it started getting heavy.

I felt like I couldn't breathe without checking if it would upset her. I didn't think it was fair.

I had told her who I was from the jump.

I didn’t hide my past.

If she couldn't handle it, that wasn’t on me... right?

I didn’t know then — or maybe I didn’t want to admit — that love wasn’t just about being wanted.

It was about being trusted.

And maybe, deep down, I didn’t trust myself either.

Chapter 5

Jayla

The first time she left, it wasn’t loud.

It wasn’t some explosive fight with slammed doors and screaming matches.

It was worse.

It was quiet.

An overnight bag packed without me noticing.

A text while I was at work: “I think I need some space. I’ll come get my stuff later.”

I stared at the screen for a long time, my hands numb.

At first, I told myself not to panic.

It was just a break. She’d come back.

But when the hours turned into days, when my sister started giving me those sad puppy eyes every time she walked past my room, I broke.

I called her.

I texted her.

I begged her.

"Please, Tee. Just come home. We can talk. I miss you. Please."

It was pathetic.

It was humiliating.

And when she finally answered — when she finally came back, three days later, standing in the doorway with her arms crossed and her mouth set in a hard line —

I thought I could breathe again.

But a part of me knew:

I wasn't breathing.

I was drowning.

Tiana

I wasn’t trying to hurt her.

I wasn’t even trying to leave for good.

I just felt suffocated.

Like I was playing a role I didn’t know how to live up to.

Jayla wanted to be everything for me.

She wanted to fix it all — my career stress, my money problems, my old wounds.

But sometimes, her love felt like a mirror shoved in my face, showing me all the things I hadn’t figured out yet.

And I hated that.

I hated feeling small.

I hated feeling like I owed her something just because she loved me so loudly.

I told myself I was doing the right thing by leaving.

I needed to find myself.

I needed to breathe.

But when she called me, her voice cracking on the line, begging me to come back —

I folded.

Because as much as I needed space, I needed her more.

Jayla

Every time she left, it carved another hole in me.

And every time she came back, I stuffed that hole with hope.

False hope.

We kept dancing around the same fights — the jealousy, the nights out, the miscommunications that turned tiny misunderstandings into huge blowups.

I’d try to open up — to tell her when I was scared, when I felt not good enough — but somewhere between my mouth and my heart, the words got stuck.

I didn’t want to be a burden.

I didn’t want to scare her away again.

So instead, I swallowed it down.

I smiled when she came home late.

I kissed her extra sweet when she apologized with flowers and soft promises.

I pretended that loving her hard enough could make her stay.

But deep down, some part of me already knew:

You can’t hold onto someone who’s still running from themselves.

And no matter how much I loved Tiana —

I couldn’t save her from the war inside her head.