Selfish [zm]

Two.

"Girl!" my best friend Cassie moaned, biting into the leftover curry, "You put your foot in this one! Why you don't cook for us more? Oh, my God!" Ilaughed, unable to respond before my other best friend spoke up.

"Probably 'cause her nigga hate us and we're definitely not supposed to be here," Fatima spoke, but not before rolling her eyes while taking a sip of her lemonade. I lightly smacked her arm, laughing.

Fatima, Cassie, and I had been best friends since middle school. We tried to have lunch once a month, since they both have busy schedules - Fatima finishing her time at Charles Drew University for a degree in Pre-Medicine, while Cassie works full time as an executive assistant to a major CEO - it was difficult to keep up with one another.  When I moved in with Zayn after graduating high school, he made it clear that he did not want my friends in his home. He felt like they were bad influences, and were always "bitching about 'Zayn this, and Zayn that.'"

"That's not even close to true," I shrugged, knowing Zayn despises my friends, "He just don't like people being in his space."

"Bitch, lie again," Cassie laughed, "You know he hates us. It's cool, though, my feelings ain't hurt none."

It wasn't unusual for my friends to bring up their hate for my fiance, or my fiance's hatred of them. They believed he was no good for me from the start, and that he does nothing but control and take advantage of me. He believed they were troublemakers who didn't want to see me happy and in love.

I didn't believe either of them.

Zayn didn't see the way my friends and I laughed together, or how they had my back through the toughest time in my life.

My friends didn't see the Zayn that held me on the night my father died, or who wrote me love songs and took me on expensive trips.

"I don't know what you ever saw in him anyway," Fatima complained, jumping up onto the countertop to sit after putting her plate in the sink.

"Probably the fact that he was fine as hell with good money," Cassie chimed in.

"You aren't wrong," I laughed loudly, "But really, he's good to me, and I never knew how much I needed someone like him until I met him."

"And does he need you the way you need him?" Cassie questioned, her tone suddenly serious. I immediately grew defensive, hating how they always managed to make it out like Zayn doesn't love or need me.

"Yes, what kind of question is that?" I stood to my feet, growing upset, "If he didn't love and need me, he wouldn't have put this ring on my finger," the shiny, seven-carat yellow diamond ring weighed heavy on my hand. "Why don't either of you ever try to understand that?"

"Because what kind of man tells a woman she can't have her friends over? And the way he talks down to you? Or how he cheated on you before?" Fatima grew frustrated and angry, but she didn't understand.

She didn't understand that my existence was entirely dependent on him. Not only did he provide for me, but I knew deep down, he loved and needed me.  She just didn't see that side of him.

"I forgave him for that because I know he loves me, and he doesn't talk down to me, he just gets upset with me sometimes," I tried to defend the love of my life.

"And why do we have to scurry out the door before he gets home every time we're here? He is controlling you and don't want you seeing us!"

"That's not true," my voice grew quiet as I began to tire from having the same argument once again, "He just likes having peace and quiet when he comes home."

Fatima jumped down from the counter, grabbing her purse off of the table before walking away. Before she exited the kitchen, though, she turned around, "I knew he changed you, but God, Nalani, he's got blind. Call me when you realize I'm right."