𝙈𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙣
⊱ ─────────── ⊰

Jasmine,
It's been three months. I wanna say I miss you but I felt as if I barely knew you last year. It was March when this all started, and it's March now. I'm at a loss of words. Except for two: thank you. You didn't have to confess but you did and I'm grateful for it. I do still love the person you were when we were best friends so I wish you didn't have to spend life in prison. The world wasn't kind to you, that's why I'm sorry. Nothing I do or say will change anything so I'll keep this brief. You haven't written me back once or called so maybe I should stop trying. Maybe that will bring me peace finally. I know you're healing, and I am too. This is goodbye, Jasmine. I do wish you well. Take care of yourself in there.
-Morgan

"No," I hear Chris object on the phone, "I don't give a fuck, fix it! No, I don't think you understand: everything has to be perfect. I don't care if she wants the real columns from the goddamn Taj Mahal, make it happen."

I shake my head at his bossy ways as I walk further inside his home office.

"Lemonade? It's freshly squeezed." I offer to Donny Miller, a neighbor and one of Chris's associates.
He looks up at me with a double take and then removes his glasses, smiling widely.

After a sip, Donny exaggerates his refreshed reaction, making me playfully nudge him in the chair for the flattery.

"Everything you touch turns to gold, Morgan." He charms me.

I blush at the compliment and walk towards Chris's desk.

"—I don't want anymore excuses, just do it." He demands, flailing his arms.

I peer out of the window at Stevie and Duke playing in the yard.
It's a sixty degree day, they're savoring the warm temperature after a mild winter.

The winter came and went in a blink. Everything was so chaotic around the holidays, we hardly did anything. I don't even remember Christmas. I know I spent it with Chris, but there was nothing merry about it. Mary and Carter spent the holidays reconnecting, they mostly traveled. I don't hear from them much because Chris doesn't maintain contact unless they reach out first. He's just too "busy." And that's true, he is, but he's not the same after the trial. It's like he's distracting himself from everything that happened.
Chris and Jabari had a brief falling out after Jasmine was sentenced to thirty years in prison. Basically, Chris thought it was a good thing that no one else went under, but JB— obviously still in love with Jasmine— didn't agree. He went crazy in the courtroom, started accusing Chris, saying he should go to prison for killing Tate instead. All it took was Chris reminding Jabari about what happened with Beck and Malcolm for them to squash things. Plus, Jabari has Faith now, he has her to worry about.

Anyway, since everything, Chris buries himself in his work. And I thought he was too busy before.

I haven't heard from Lee and Izzy. I guess that's a good thing, they have a child to look after, it's responsible of them not to get caught up with this stuff. Besides, we don't need them. Chris says Lee just feels guilty after his involvement and is trying to turn his life around after "finding God." I'm not one to judge or criticize religion, but I do think Izzy and Lee's sudden overwhelming devotion to their Lord is a bit phony. I know anyone can get saved to whatever, it's just weird coming from those two deviants. Anyway, I hope they're happy.

"Thank you," Chris exasperates, hanging up the phone.

He swipes his hand down his face, elbows perched up on the desk.

"Should I go ahead with the plans then?" Asks Donny, rising from the chair.

"Please." Chris emphasizes his order, frustrated.

"You got it, boss. We're looking at four weeks-"

"Four?!" Chris's eyes bulge. "I don't have four weeks. Lydia doesn't have four weeks! No, no way. This woman hasn't been in her house for months and I promised her it would be done in two more weeks."

Donny stands in a T-pose. "What am I supposed to do, Vaughn?"

"Speed the shit up." Chris talks boldly, throwing his ink pen down on the desk.

I let out a deep breath, empathizing with Donny.

Donny scratches his thick handlebar mustache and then pushes out a sigh.

"Whatever you say." He agrees reluctantly.

"That's why you're the best." Chris shouts at the back of Donny's head as he walks out.

"Bye, Donny." I speak up just before he reaches the door.

Once it closes, I fold my arms at Chris.

He looks up at me with guilty eyes.

"Don't look at me like that," he chuckles cutely.

I relax my arms, dropping them by my sides.

"You're supposed to be relaxing, remember?" I nag, sitting atop the desk.

Chris throws his head back, grumbling under his breath.

"There's too much to do, Morgan," he begins to complain.

In the middle of listing his stressors, Chris fiddles with the lock on his leg brace before standing.
Someone suffered a femur fracture and refused immediate hospitalization. Typically after that kind of an injury, you want to go to the ER as soon as it happens. Fortunately, on day three or four after the injury he sustained from the brawl with Tate (he had already had previous injury to the thigh from scuffles with Beck, Malcolm, Rodney, etc.) Calvin and I rushed him to the emergency room. The doctors said we were really lucky we got him into reconstructive surgery when we did. It went well.
After that, Chris wasn't happy about it, but he endured physical therapy for a few months. Being the gym buff that he is, and hating to be in the brace as well as bed-ridden mostly, Chris took it seriously eventually. Except, after the physical therapist mentioned it, Chris went and talked to someone about possible nerve damage; he ended up getting another surgery for it as a conservative measure as there was still significant pain and consistent numbness. So, it'll be another possible three to four months recovery, could even be up to six.

Chris, stumbling around the desk, mumbles under his breath.
"I hate this fucking thing," he complains about the brace which he didn't bother assuring was on correctly before trying to stand and walk. Stubborn ass.

I shake my head with a "tsk tsk," as I kneel before him.

On my knees, I use my knowledge from the physical therapist to correctly adjust the 'unloaded knee brace.' We often joke about how he has a bionic leg now. More like I joke, it doesn't make him feel any better.

He rants on, "I'm mad enough I missed the ball, I can't fuck up the party, too. It's just so much to do, I gotta make sure-"

Tossing my arms around Chris's neck, I purse my lips and tell him, "Shh, shh, shh," cutting him off.

His eyes fall to my lips before he pecks them softly.
"Mmm," he gestures, resting his hands at the small of my back.

I smile against his lips and then slowly pull away, but only an inch.

"I don't want to hear anything else about work, or the house, okay?"

With low eyes and a lustful smile, Chris rasps, "What was I talking about?"

I giggle in his face and then kiss his cheek.

"All you need to worry about right now is vacation," I make clear.

Chris rolls his eyes for a second. "I forgot about that. Did you check if my passport was still valid-"

Before he can even spit out another word that'll lead to more stress, I nod my head, already knowing what he'll say next.

"Yes, Chris, everything is already done; your passport isn't expired, Nia knows how long you'll be gone, the trip is completely paid for, and I packed your bag. Now stop worrying!" I raise my voice at him at the end, laughing.

Chris squeezes my hand and then brings it to his lips for a kiss. After all these years and countless times he's done that, it still makes me swoon.

"You're perfect," he tells me.

"You're not wrong," I joke, popping my shoulders.

"Now come on," I voice, "it's your turn to help me pack."

✕

If you asked me how I'm handling all of this, I'd say pretty well. How? I don't know. Partially because I feel like everything is finally over and there's a lot of relief with that. I don't know, this time just feels different. I hate to say "what else could possibly happen' but seriously?
As long as I'm with Chris, I know everything will be alright. Cliche, I'm aware, but true.

Ray will be behind bars for the rest of his life. Tate's dead, and Jasmine is serving her time for that.
Anyone who was involved with Malcolm, Ray, or Beck are too scared to come forward. Annette told us most of them are hiding, some have given up their high positions at their jobs, they're donating money to charities to look like upstanding citizens, and the worst of them just fled the city or country.

"As always, I enjoyed our time, Morgan," says Rita Hassan.

I decided to return to therapy with Dr.Hassan because she already knows too much. She's good at what she does, and it helps to talk to someone. Besides, with Jasmine and Izzy gone, Rita feels like a good friend of mine. It seems like a struggle lately to keep a friend. That's why I'm so grateful for Jabari being there for Chris, they're loyal to each other.
Of course there's Faith, Jabari's girl from the beach. She's sweet, means well, a real girl's girl like myself, and beautiful. It's just that I don't want to jump into a friendship with her and drag her into all of this, Jabari feels the same way about her - trying to keep her at a distance.

"Excuse me," a fast paced man says to me in passing.

I navigate the bustling sidewalk downtown as I make my way towards Trader Joe's after my therapy session.

"What'd you say?" Chris says over the speaker.

"Nothing," I exhale, entering the grocery store.

"Are you sure you're on your way?" He asks me for the fiftieth time since we've been on the phone.

I laugh small. "Yes, Christopher, I'll be there as soon as I pick up a few things, is that okay?"

"Yes," he says impatiently, "what did you forget?"

I twist my mouth as I try to jog my mind. "Just some sides and a few drinks."

"Babe, the party is about to start." He nags me.

"I know," I return, "but it can start without me. It's Lydia's party, not mine."

"And you know she'll want you there, especially since you basically designed the whole garden."

"Christopher," I pause for a beat, "I'm on my way."

He smacks his lips. "Well can you just make sure you grab, like, a fruit tray or something, and some more cups?"

"Fruit tray, cups. Got it."

"Appreciate you," he says before I tell him I love him and will be there soon.

I push the cart down another aisle and suddenly stop, forgetting what I needed in the first place.

"Whatever happened to grocery lists," a nearby man jokes.

He stands parallel to me, chuckling, holding an empty basket.

I laugh but only briefly. "I know, right?"

I walk past him and then rack my brain for an answer.

"Hot dog buns and chips!" He shouts at the back of my head.

"A-heh," I chortle, suddenly remembering. "Rolls and lemonade."

"Sounds like we're both late."

I nod, smiling. "Yeah, but you have the chips and hot dog buns so you might be in more trouble than me."

I walk alongside him after he pointed to the rolls in the next aisle over.

"I don't know, your party might be pretty thirsty." He challenges me.

I grab two twin packs of Kings Hawaiian rolls off of the shelf and toss them into the cart.

"Thank you," I tell the tall, blond stranger.

His hand is out for me to shake before I even fully turn to face him.

Hesitantly, I shake it as a courtesy.

"Hope you don't get chewed out too bad for being late," he says with a lax Western accent - California, probably.

I playfully roll my eyes. "Um... you too. Bye."

✕

"Hi, nice seeing you." I speak to Donny's wife.

"Hi, nice to see you." I repeat to another woman who lives in the community.

"Thanks for coming!" I tell another guest.

"Jack..." I shout for him as he swims in the pool.

"JACK!" I have to yell over the music and his splashing with Andy.

"Yeah, Morgan?" He surfaces.

"Calvin's almost done on the grill," I let him know. "make sure you get something to eat, okay?"

He squints his grey eyes under the sun and nods. "Can you save me a piece of chicken?"

I agree with a nod of my head and then stand, stepping away from the edge of the in-ground pool.

"Who's this?" Eli asks me.

Since he just got here, I didn't mind introducing him. "This is Chris's little cousin, Jack; his sister is around here somewhere. Kailyn?" I call for the teen.

Chris's little cousins came to visit because they missed us so much. We missed them, too, but could never find the time to have them over. Once everything settled after the hearing, we told them they could stay as long as they liked. They've been here for a couple of weeks now, leaving early tomorrow because Chris and I leave for vacation soon.

"You seen Calvin— oh, on the grill? I should've known." He walks away and starts shouting. "Aye, CJ!"

Kailyn stands with Faith under the patio gazebo. They're just laughing like girls, and enjoying some of the fruit I brought.

"There she is!" Kailyn squeals as I get closer.

I wave, coy, still approaching.

"Hey," I greet the ladies.

"Morgan, your dress is so cute!" Faith compliments me.

Kailyn nods eagerly. "We were just talking about how much we want to raid your closet."

I giggle with them. "Kailyn, you always raid my closet."

"Well, we'll have to go shopping soon - spend some quality girl time so you can tell me all of Bari's red flags." Faith suggests, eyeing me with her onyx orbs as if she was waiting for an answer.

Faith is nothing like Jasmine. At least not yet. Yet, somehow, I still find myself comparing them - or at least the way we met. Immediately, Faith and I hit it off. I can't help but think both ladies only gravitated towards me just because they're involved with Jabari who happens to be best friends with my boyfriend, I figured they're sucking up to me. And even though, I'm telling myself I don't need a bestie right now, that I should learn my lesson and not get involved with this girl, I can't help but find her beautiful and want to get to know her better. I'm sure JB would like it if we were close anyway.

"Sure," I respond with a smile.

Faith gives my body a quick squeeze and then takes a swig of her lemonade.

"This lemonade is really good, by the way," she adds.

"Yeah," agrees Kailyn, "is there anymore?"

"Oh, yeah," I stammer, eyeing the empty pitcher. "I'll go make some. Be right back."

Chris waves to me as I pass through the backyard where everyone engaged in small talk over classic Italian music on this fine Saturday, and enjoyed finger foods around the garden.

All the guests are buzzing about the makeover of the colonial brick home. Chris is a genius, you have to give it to him. I know Lydia is ecstatic beyond words, this has been a dream of hers for over a year apparently. At first, I obviously had my reserves about Chris working with the nosy HOA president who I called a 'Karen', but I'm happy he got to bring her vision to life, it really turned out great.

Once inside, I familiarized myself with the kitchen speedily to not keep the guests waiting.

As I pour cold water into the glass and hum, the sound of coughing grows louder.

I furrow my eyebrows, trying to figure where the choking is coming from as I thought I was in the house alone.

Quickly, I turn the water off and go investigate.

"Lydia?" I call out her name, drying my hands with a towel.

The hakking continues.

I stalk through the foyer and follow the sound, realizing it's coming from the staircase.

I gasp at the sight of Lydia stumbling down the stairs. She's covered in vomit, eyes wandering aimlessly.

"Lydia!" I scream, hurrying over to be by her side.

Her frail body is burning up, sweat dripping down her chest.

Sitting her up, Lydia looks at me, confused.

"W-where am I?" She asks, trembling.

"CHRIS!" I yell for him to come inside.

Lydia shakes her head at me with disassociated eyes. "Who are you? What am I doing here?"