The chill in the air outside Tessy's condo had nothing on the frost that had settled inside her chest. Chicago's wind whipped through the cracks of her windows, but she was already numb.
Numb from silence. Numb from absence. Numb from watching Kiesha wrap her lips around the one-man Tessy still held in the secret corners of her ruined heart.
Ronnie.
The name tasted bitter now, but it still melted on her tongue like the first time he made her cum on a hotel duvet back in college. It was supposed to be a forever thing. But forever had an expiration date, and Tessy's came stamped with rejection, heartbreak, and parents who didn't want a girl like her for their golden boy.
She sat at her vanity, brushing her long weave back from her face. Her skin was flawless, but her reflection was cracked. Beneath the flawless foundation, there was war.
And it all came back to him — Ronnie, with his deep laugh and deeper strokes, with the kind of touch that made your bones forget pain and your heart pretend it wasn't bruised.
When he chose Kiesha, it wasn't a declaration of love. It was a declaration of revenge — and Tessy knew it. Her betrayal had come wrapped in silk sheets and dirty moans, and now the consequence was unfolding like a bitter fairytale.
Ronnie had loved her once. The kind of love that stuck even after the bodies stopped moving. But he'd also watched her destroy friendships with the same mouth she kissed him with. He left, not because he didn't love her, but because he no longer recognized her.
Tessy stood, her bare feet sinking into the fur rug, her robe hanging loose like a confession. Her phone lit up.
David.
Of course, it was David. The weak one. The filler dick that never filled the ache. He texted her:
David: "Need to see you."
Tessy: "Too late."
David: "Don't do me like that."
She didn't respond. She was done being available for men who only showed up when someone else had already taken what mattered.
She stepped into her closet. Red dress. No panties. Hair up, attitude low.
She was headed out — to find a new fire to burn in.
Meanwhile, Kiesha sat in a candlelit room, the air thick with lavender and shame. Ronnie was asleep beside her, the scent of sex still clinging to the sheets. She traced his chest with one finger.
"What am I doing?" she whispered.
Ronnie stirred but didn't wake. Kiesha felt tears sting her eyes. It didn't feel like victory. It felt like handing over her soul in exchange for one night of revenge.
She reached for her phone. Typed. Deleted. Typed again.
Kiesha (draft): "We were sisters. And I'm sleeping with the man who once called you his everything. I don't know if I hate you or if I just needed to feel wanted for once."
She didn't send it. Instead, she rolled over and stared at the wall. This wasn't healing. This was hurting with a prettier mask.
Tessy ended up at a rooftop lounge. Music low. Lights dim. Eyes on her.
She picked a stranger. Tall. Tattooed. Quiet.
She didn't need conversation. She needed distraction.
Ten minutes later, his hand was under her dress. She moaned against his mouth.
"Go harder," she whispered, lips against his ear. "I'll never make it off your dick."
He responded with a growl, and in the dark corner of that rooftop, Tessy got lost again. Not in love. Not in pleasure. In numbness.
She fucked him like pain was currency. Like every thrust erased a memory. Her nails dug into his back. Her thighs trembled.
He whispered, "You taste like heartbreak."
She whispered back, "I am heartbreak."
By morning, he was gone. No name. No goodbye. Just an ache between her legs and a silence in her chest.
She showered. Put on makeup. Poured herself a mimosa.
"Bitch," she said to her reflection, "we don't fall. We float."
But even mirrors lie sometimes.
Ronnie sat on a park bench later that day, scrolling through old texts. Tessy's selfies. Their sex tapes. The voice notes she used to send when she couldn't sleep.
He didn't miss her. He missed who she used to be.
He remembered the night she cried in his lap after her first runway rejection. The way she sobbed and said, "I just want to matter."
"You do," he had told her.
He wasn't sure she believed it then. He knew she wouldn't now.
Kiesha texted him:
Kiesha: "This feels wrong."
Ronnie: "That's because it is."
Kiesha: "But I want to feel something."
Ronnie: "Then let me do it right."
Kiesha didn't respond. But she showed up at his door that night anyway.
Tessy got a DM that froze her fingers.
Ronnie: "I hope it was worth it."
She stared.
Typed.
Tessy: "You fucked her. Don't come at me like you're holy."
Ronnie: "I fucked her to forget you. I still couldn't."
Tessy: "I fucked the world to forget you."
Ronnie: "Did it work?"
Tessy: "No."
Ronnie: "Me neither."
They left it there. Hanging. Heavy. Unforgiven.
Tessy closed her phone. Cried quietly. Screamed into her pillow. Then got dressed.
She'd wear shame like an outfit. Heels higher than her regrets. And strut into the next chapter of her life like the runway owed her something.
Because maybe it did.
Maybe pain was her muse now.
And this was her rebirth.
Even if it hurt like hell.