It was Sunday. Just like any other Sunday- except I woke up in Russel's bed. 7:34 AM. And for the second morning in a row... he was nowhere to be found. No text. No note. Nothing. I stared at the ceiling, letting the silence settle in a place that felt all too familiar. The kind of silence that doesn't feel peaceful- it feels intentional. And suddenly, I didn't feel rested. I felt aware. As I laid there, my mind stared wandering. I wonder if there's something I should be paying attention to. I wonder if there's something I've been choosing not to see. I wonder if this is the beginning of a pattern... or something I've been ignoring all along. The more I wondered, the more I felt something shift. The thought came quietly, but it stayed: Maybe I want to be single. Not because I don't enjoy the company of a man- I do. Especially one that smells good, feels good, knows how to be present when he wants to be. But I don't enjoy the mental discomfort. The gut feeling. That quiet voice that whispers, something isn't right. Because if I'm honest- 9.5 times out of 10... we be right. I got out of bed and gathered my things. Our sleepovers were still so new, I didn't even have a presence there. No drawer. No toothbrush. No side of the bed that felt like mine. The longer I stood in his apartment, the more I realized... I couldn't see myself there. And that's when it hit me. Maybe Russel and I were exactly what we looked like- a glass half full. Not empty. Not full. Just... incomplete. Back home, I put on a full pot of Noir Lux's coffee. This morning felt like it required more than one cup. I ran the shower, laid out a cute athleisure set, and plugged in my earbuds. As I listened to Sarah Jakes Roberts speak, her words felt like they were reaching directly for me. Sometimes clarity doesn't come loudly. It comes right on time. By the time I stepped out of the shower, I felt different. Not healed- but decided. I had a vision for my life. For the kind of love I wanted. For the kind of peace I refused to negotiate. But clarity is fragile. Because the moment I walked into my Pilates class, took a few sips of my coffee, and saw a face I hadn't seen in weeks- Everything paused. Layla. I had two choices. Ignore her. Or put my pride to the side. I chose to ignore her. The tension was thick. Unspoken. Lingering in every stretch, every breath, every glance I avoided. Forty-five minutes later, there we were. Face to face. She greeted me like nothing had happened, pulling me into a hug. "Hey girl, how have you been?" "I 've been fantastic," I replied-quick, polite, closed. I had no intention of going deeper. But Layla did. "Can we talk?" she asked. And honestly... I needed the distraction. Back at my apartment, I poured the brewed coffee over ice. The clink of the cubes echoed in the silence between us. As she sipped, I could tell something was sitting heavy on her chest. Then it fell. A tear. And then the truth. "I'm pregnant," she said. My body froze before my mind could respond. "By Chris." Everything inside me went still. She continued, her voice shaky but certain- she wanted nothing to do with him. Nothing. And then she said something that shifted everything I thought I knew. "The flowers... the ones that kept showing up at your door..." She paused. "They were from Chris. Not Russel." I blinked. Once. Twice. Trying to catch up to reality that suddenly felt rewritten. All this time... I had attached meaning to gestures that didn't belong to the man I thought they did. And just like that, everything started to make sense. The inconsistency. The silence. The confusion I kept trying to soften. Maybe there was no mystery to solve. Maybe Russel wasn't layered- maybe he was exactly who he'd been showing me he was. And maybe... I chose to fill the blanks with hope. I leaned over and hugged Layla, holding space for a situation I couldn't imagine for myself. To carry a child by a man you never loved... That kind of reality doesn't need advice. It needs presence. For the rest of the day, I put my phone on Do Not Disturb. But more importantly- I put my heart there too. Because sometimes clarity doesn't come to comfort you, it comes to correct you.

                                                         To be continued...