pres·sure
/ˈpreSHər/
noun
1.
continuous physical force exerted on or against an object by something in contact with it.
2.
the use of persuasion, influence, or intimidation to make someone do something.
UPDATED 2026.
soundtrack included, thank yaa...
All rights reserved. This story (Pressure) is fiction meaning no harm to the celebrities and people used for images. Any books similar are not mine. I have no rights to the images/music used. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
TYARA
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"Girl, they really going in!" Naomi yelled as Eve lunged at Andre like she had nothing to lose.
Andre didn't panic. Didn't flinch. He stood there, solid, tense, built like the nigga he knew he was. He wasn't showing off—he was holding back, letting her come at him, testing her, daring her without swinging. But there was something else in his eyes this time... and I think he was honestly ashamed and defeated more than anything.
"You think this shit a game, nigga?" Eve spat, a mix of hurt and rage. Her fists landed on his chest, sharp, precise. He didn't hit back, didn't even push her ass, but his jaw did clench tightly.
"I ain't tryna fight you, Eve," he said low, voice cutting through the chaos like a knife. "Chill, baby—look, I can explain."
Eve laughed, but it was hollow, venom dripping with every word. "Explain? You can't fix this Andre. You had a baby on me? With her?"
I'd seen Eve pissed before but this was different. There was betrayal in every swing of her fists, every shout. And Andre... Andre looked like the teenage boy he raised me for the first time in forever. He was lost.
Before all of this shit went down.. all of us were sprawled across the huge black couch, blankets tangled together. Eve and Dre were on one side, me and Yomi on the other.
Now, there were snacks scattered everywhere, popcorn crushed, wine spilled—a small war zone. Our "From" marathon had ended before we could even finish a full episode.
Papa's tiny footsteps padded into the living room.
"Pop, get back in that room. You know you supposed to be sleep," Dre called, trying to sound casual.
