When a car crash claims the lives of their partners, Ezra and Imani are left reeling as they discover their loved ones died while holding hands. With accusations of an affair and betrayal flying, they're thrown together into grief and anger. Ezra's...
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14
Imani
"Mrs. Holden? Mrs. Holden!"
Startled, my heart races as I realize my lawyer is trying to grab my attention. He sits beside me, concern etched on his face. I brush off his question with a subtle nod, pretending everything's fine.
But it's not fine. Lately, my mind's slipping. My sleep pattern has gotten worse, and my eating habits are deteriorating. I catch myself drifting away from reality, zoning out for minutes at a time — a terrifying experience. I keep telling myself that I'm fine, that I'm going to hold on for as long as I can, for as long as my strength lets me. Fatigue consumes me; my body aches, like I could be falling any second from a weight that is dragging me down.
"Are you sure you're okay? Should we go to the hospital?" Isaiah insists, handing me a glass of water. The bitter taste stings as it travels down my throat, causing my stomach to tighten.
I cling to his reassuring gaze, greedy for the comfort it brings me. "No, let's just get this over with," I reply, averting my eyes. Alone in the conference room for ten minutes, Ezra and his lawyer are yet to appear. It's bad enough that the court is forcing us to be here, and I feel dizzy and nauseous. Breakfast didn't sit well, and last night's sleep was restless.
"Remember," Isaiah adds, "Don't agree to anything unless I tell you. Don't overshare and only answer with a yes or no, or don't answer if you're not comfortable. You need to prepare yourself so when we do go to trial, you know how to handle yourself."
"Got it."
Before I can close my mouth, Ezra strides into the room with his lawyer. Our lawyers shook hands while I tense up, watching them take a seat across from me. Across the mahogany table, Ezra lounges with a smirk, his eyes a chilling abyss. The last time I saw him was outside the club, and that was two weeks ago. I have been avoiding him, doing the best I can to make sure we don't interact or be in the same room.
I try to avoid his eyes, curling my fingers over my clothes and counting my breaths in my head. My chest tightens every time I remember that he knows my secret. He knows about Tyler's app because I was the one who told him, and now I can't look him in the eye without feeling shame and embarrassment crawling under my skin.
"Let's start," I say, my voice strained.
Ezra leans back, a mockingly casual gesture. He tilts his head, his eyes never leaving mine. He moves like liquid as if he holds the power to drown everyone. "It's nice to see you too, Imani, sober, I mean."
His words are a taunt, a sharp provocation, and I clench my fists under the table, trying not to walk into the bait.
He cocks a brow. His gaze dances over me, his face hiding his thoughts but unable to thwart his questions. "What, no comment? No thank you for saving me that night? What could have happened if I hadn't been there? But I gotta say, I'm glad I did, at least I get more insight on your husband." His face remains blank, and his voice doesn't quiver.
