“Because you didn’t give nobody else a fucking chance. Messiah been back for months, and yo’ ass didn’t say one word. That should have been the first thing out yo’ mouth!” He removed his hands and took a step away from her, looking down at her in disbelief.

“It wasn’t like that. He tried to kill Ethic! He hurt me! What was I supposed to tell my kids when they grew up and asked me about their daddy? Huh? He didn’t leave me with good memories to share with them, Ahmeek. He was a snake. He was a liar,” Morgan argued. She was hysterical. Her chest ached because the look in Ahmeek’s eyes was familiar. It was the same look she had given Messiah all those years ago on Bleu’s lawn. A look of confusion because she hadn’t recognized him. Meek didn’t know who he was staring at, and it tore Morgan up that he judged her. “I don’t owe him shit.”

“You owe them! You owe them enough to let them know their real fucking father!” He took another step back from Morgan. Despair saturated her.

“Ahmeek, how can I make you understand?”

“I don’t think you can, Mo,” he said, finally lowering his voice. She reached for him, and he dodged her; for the first time ever, he denied her access. He frowned and scratched the tip of his eyebrow. “You looking real different to a nigga right now. Shit’s foul as fuck,” he said.

“So you’re taking his side?” Morgan shouted.

“Ain’t no sides, Mo! When it come to them kids, it’s just right and wrong, and this is wrong. You dead-ass wrong,” he said. “You ain’t no little-ass girl nursing a broken heart. You’re a mother, and you on some spiteful-ass shit to hurt Messiah got you looking crazy to me. I don’t even know who the fuck I’m looking at right now.” Ahmeek pushed out of the dance studio and walked out into the night.