ZURI
Seven months. Seven months since I saw the amber light paint Hakeem's back, arching, Gina's eyes, closed, blissful. Seven months I've spent trying to burn that image out of my retinas with iron and sweat.
"Spot me, Mills?"
Millie, sunshine poured into a sports bra, grins from the bench. "Always, Z. You're gonna crush it."
Crush it. That's the mantra. Crush the weight, crush the memory, crush the way my chest still aches at night like a phantom limb.
I settle on the bench, grip the bar. One thirty-five. Pathetic, compared to the two I'm chasing. Today, though, it feels like the weight of all the things I can't say, can't scream.
Hakeem's birthday party. Gina, laughing too loud, practically glued to his side. I'd waved it off. Family. We're just family. Now, the replay burns like battery acid.
"Ready?" Millie's voice slices through the static in my head.
I nod, inhale. Engage. Focus. Don't think. I lower the bar, the cold steel a brief shock against my sternum. The burn ignites almost immediately. Good. Pain is a shield. Pain is a reason to keep going when every cell screams to stop.
One.
I push, muscles shrieking. Millie's hands hover, a safety net. I don't need it. I won't need it. I can't need it.
Two.
Gina's voice, dripping with fake concern: "You're always so busy, Zuri. He needs someone who can be there, someone who understands his needs." Bitch.
Like she was doing me a favor, picking up my slack.
Three.
Doubt, the constant companion, claws its way in. You're weak. You're not enough. He left you for her. Face it, you're worthless.
I grind my teeth. Shut the fuck up.
Four.
The bar is a lead weight, dragging me down. My arms tremble, threatening to buckle. Millie's voice, laced with a hint of worry, cuts through the noise. "You got this, Z. One more. Just one."
One more. For what? For whom? To prove…what? That I can lift a goddamn barbell? That I'm not broken beyond repair?
Liar. You are broken.
I push. Every fiber screams in protest. I channel every ounce of rage, of grief, of pure, unadulterated hate into that one final push. A strangled sound escapes my throat, halfway between a sob and a roar.
Five.
I rack the weight, collapsing back against the bench, gasping for air. Millie slaps my shoulder. "Beast mode, Z! You fucking killed it."
I force a smile, but inside, I'm a shattered mirror, reflecting nothing but shards of pain.
Seven months. Seven months and I still wake up screaming, the taste of betrayal still burning on my tongue.
I sit up, wipe the sweat stinging my eyes. "Thanks, Mills. I needed that."
No, you didn't. You need a lobotomy. Or maybe just a stiff drink and a long, dark hole to crawl into.
Millie grabs her water bottle. "You hitting the treadmill?"
I shake my head. "Protein shake. You heading out?"
"Yeah, got a date. Wish me luck." She winks. "Maybe I'll finally find a guy who isn't a complete waste of oxygen."
I manage a genuine smile this time. "You deserve it, Mills."
Hakeem, whispering promises in the dark. Forever, Zuri. I promise you forever. Promises that dissolved like smoke the second Gina's lips touched his.
Forever. God, what a fucking joke.
Millie heads toward the locker room, leaving me alone. I stand for a moment, staring at the weight rack. A monument to self-inflicted torture.
Is this it? Is this all I am now? A collection of scars and heavy weights?
The air feels thick, pressing down on me. I need to escape.
I grab my gym bag and head for the exit, the harsh neon lights reflecting in my eyes like a shattered disco ball. Outside, the late afternoon sun throws long, distorted shadows across the parking lot.
And then I see him.
Not Hakeem. Never Hakeem again.
Someone else.
Leaning against the hood of a sleek black car, watching me with eyes that feel like they're peeling back my skin, seeing all the raw, ugly mess I try so hard to hide.
Don't look at me. Don't you dare look at me.
His face is a blur, obscured by the glare. Just a silhouette, a suggestion of sharp angles and something…intense. My stomach clenches. Run. Get away.
Before I can move, a voice cuts through the gym noise.
"Zuri! Girl, hey!"
Cali. Thank god. Or maybe not. Cali sees too much, too.
I force a smile, turning towards her. "Hey, Cal. You're early."
Cali, a whirlwind of bright colors and infectious energy, bounces over, pulling me into a hug. "Girl, I'm always early. Especially when it comes to rescuing my bestie from turning into a full-blown meathead." She eyes my gym bag, then gives me a once-over. "Damn, Zuri, you're ripped. But seriously, put the weights down before you start grunting instead of talking."
She means well. She always means well.
"I need the adrenaline," I say, the words sounding weak even to my own ears. "It's the only thing that shuts my brain off."
The silence after I slammed the door on Hakeem and Gina. The deafening, suffocating silence filled with nothing but the echoes of their betrayal.
Cali's smile falters. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up. I'm starving, and I refuse to eat alone while you're smelling like…victory and desperation." She loops her arm through mine, steering me towards the locker entrance.
Victory and desperation. God, she knows me too well.
As we walk past the treadmills, I glance back. He's still there, still watching. The sun shifts, briefly illuminating his face. And then it's gone, swallowed by the shadows again. I can't make out any details, but the intensity of his gaze…it's unsettling.
Stop it. You're being paranoid.
We head into the locker room, the familiar smell of sweat and disinfectant a strange comfort. Cali chatters about her latest art project, her voice a steady stream of color against the grey static in my head.
I grab my shower bag, trying to focus on her words. "Okay, okay," I say, feigning enthusiasm. "Tell me more about this…sculpture made of recycled tires."
Cali laughs. "It's gonna be epic, Zuri! Totally gonna make a statement about consumerism and environmental responsibility. You gotta come see it when it's done."
"Definitely," I say, heading towards the showers. "I'll be right out. Order me something greasy."
As I turn on the water, Cali calls out, "Oh, hey, Millie asked me to ask you something. The Phantom's Ball is next weekend. You in?"
The water is scalding, a welcome assault on my skin. I lean into the spray, letting it wash over me, trying to drown out the memories.
"Nah," I say, my voice muffled by the water. "Not my thing. You guys go have fun."
Hakeem, dressed in a tux, holding my hand, leading me onto the dance floor. The Phantom's Ball. A charity event we used to attend every year. A symbol of our perfect, polished life. Before it shattered.
"Seriously, Zuri?" Cali's voice is sharp now, devoid of its usual cheer. "You can't hide in this gym forever. You've been acting like a goddamn hermit for seven months."
I turn off the water, grabbing a towel. The steam fills the small space, blurring my reflection in the mirror. I look like a ghost of myself.
"I'm not hiding," I say, the words sounding defensive even to me.
"Oh, really? Then what do you call this? Obsessive workouts, avoiding everyone, pretending like Hakeem and Gina didn't completely fuck up your life?" Cali's voice rises, echoing in the small space. "You used to love dressing up!"
I wrap the towel tighter around me, avoiding her gaze. "I'm fine, Cali. I just…I'm not up for the snobby bullshit. You know that's not my scene."
It's not that. It's that I can't face the world, can't face the pitying glances, the whispered condolences. Can't face the possibility of seeing them.
Cali steps closer, her expression softening. "Zuri, honey, I get it. What they did was…unspeakable. But you can't let them win. You can't let them steal your life."
Her words hit me harder than any weight I've lifted. Because she's right. They are stealing my life. One agonizing day at a time.
I finally meet her gaze in the mirror. "I don't know how to stop them," I whisper, the words raw and vulnerable.
Cali steps forward, placing her hands on my shoulders. "Then let us help you. Let Millie and me drag you out of this…this hole you've dug for yourself. Just say yes, Zuri. Say yes to the ball. Say yes to living again."
I stare at my reflection, at the haunted look in my eyes. Can I do it? Can I face the world again? Can I find a way to forgive…myself?
The black car, the stranger's gaze…it all feels like a challenge.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself.
"Okay," I say, the word barely audible. "Okay, I'll go to the Phantom's Ball."
A flicker of hope lights up Cali's face. "Yes! You won't regret this, Zuri. I promise."
Don't promise me anything, I think, the cynicism creeping back in. Promises are just lies waiting to happen.
But maybe…maybe this time, it will be different.
As I start to dry my hair, the image of the stranger's face flashes through my mind. Unclear, but undeniably there.