After that conversation with Liam, things between us shifted. Not dramatically. There was no fight. No awkward silence. Just space.
Days passed. Then a week. And slowly, summer settled in like a lazy guest who refused to leave. The weather turned warmer, the streets busier, and I was back to doing things on my own, just the way I liked it. Or so I told myself.
I spent more time at my house, cooking in the kitchen with the windows open and jazz music humming in the background. I cleaned out my spice cabinet, tried out new recipes, rearranged furniture for no reason, and even took solo walks through the Sunday farmer’s market. I went to brunch spots alone with a book in hand and didn’t mind the stares.
No drama. No Black family tension. No Liam. Just me.
It was surprisingly peaceful. Lon
