Chapter 1 — Heartbreak and Hoop Earrings

Ayanna

The text message lit up the screen of Shawn’s phone, its brightness cutting through the dim room like a spotlight. The basketball game played on the TV, the announcer’s voice a dull hum in the background, but my focus was elsewhere. My stomach twisted into a knot as I glanced at the screen. I didn’t want to look—no, I told myself not to look—but something inside me pressed forward anyway.

This wasn’t the first time doubt had crept in. Lately, Shawn had been distant, his charming smile hiding vague excuses that never quite seemed to add up. I’d ignored it, chalking it up to the stress of basketball or the ebb and flow of relationships. But this wasn’t just doubt anymore. It was that deep, aching certainty that something was wrong—a sixth sense that broke through my carefully constructed wall of denial. My hand hovered near the phone on the coffee table as the vibration reverberated through the room.

I hesitated, my pulse thudding loudly in my ears. What if I was wrong? What if looking at his phone only made me into someone overly suspicious, someone I didn’t want to be? But then again, what if I was right?

Before I could stop myself, I leaned forward and caught the preview of the message: *"Last night was amazing. Can’t wait to see you again, babe."*

A sharp intake of breath. It felt like a punch to the chest, stealing the air from my lungs. My fingers trembled as I picked up the phone, its weight solid and damning in my hands.

“What’s this?” I asked, holding it up like a piece of evidence in court. My voice was steady—too steady for the storm brewing inside me.

Shawn’s head snapped toward me, and the lazy grin he’d been wearing melted into something colder, sharper. “What are you doing?” he asked, his tone low and defensive. His body stiffened, his posture giving him away before his words could.

I tapped the screen open, scanning the thread with trembling fingers. My chest tightened with each new message, each damning detail. “Who’s Jess?” My voice cracked slightly, but I forced myself to meet his gaze.

His expression faltered, guilt flickering across his face for less than a second before it hardened into indifference. “Babe, it’s not what you think.” His voice slid into that smooth, persuasive tone he always used to get out of trouble. He leaned forward slightly, as if his proximity could erase what I’d just seen. “You’re overreacting.”

The words hit me like a slap. I felt the bile rise in my throat.

“Overreacting?” I asked, standing abruptly. The phone felt like it was burning my palm, and I shoved it toward his chest. He grabbed it reflexively. “Shawn, she called you *babe*! How exactly am I supposed to interpret that?”

He rolled his eyes, an arrogant shrug rising with his shoulders. “She’s nobody,” he said, his tone dismissive. “It’s not like that. You’re making this a bigger deal than it is.”

I let out a bitter laugh, but it tasted like ash in my mouth. “Not like that? So what then, Shawn? You accidentally texted someone named Jess about how amazing last night was?”

His jaw tightened, his voice sharpening. “You’re being ridiculous,” he snapped. “We’re good, Ayanna. Don’t ruin this over nothing.”

“Nothing?” I repeated, the word cold on my tongue. I searched his face for something—remorse, guilt, *anything* that would make me believe he cared about what he’d done. But all I saw was deflection, his irritation at being caught.

My voice dropped, ice creeping into every syllable. “I’m not ruining anything, Shawn. You already did that.”

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out like he could grab hold of the unraveling situation. “Ayanna, c’mon. We’ve been through too much for you to just throw it all away over this.”

“Throw it away?” My voice cracked, rising above the low hum of the TV. My hands were shaking now, and I realized I was still clutching my bag. I slung it over my shoulder, every movement deliberate despite the chaos roiling inside me. “No, Shawn. *You* threw it away the moment you decided I wasn’t enough for you.”

For the first time, the confidence slipped from his expression, replaced by something desperate and raw. “You don’t mean that,” he said, his voice softening. “You’re upset. We can fix this. I’ll make it up to you.”

I laughed, hollow and broken. “No, Shawn. I *do* mean it.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but I didn’t give him the chance. I turned toward the door, my steps steady even as my heart raced. At the threshold, I paused, gripping the doorknob tightly. Memories flickered through my mind—the good ones, the ones that had made me stay far longer than I should have. But they weren’t enough to keep me here anymore.

“I deserve better,” I said, my voice steady and quiet, but firm as steel. Then I walked out, letting the door click shut behind me.

---

The evening air was crisp, the faint scent of jasmine drifting on the breeze as I stepped outside. It was quieter than I expected, the world around me feeling almost indifferent to the storm that had just passed. My legs carried me forward, each step grounding me as my thoughts swirled.

I replayed the confrontation in my mind, every word and every look cutting as sharply as when it first happened. But with each step, something inside me started to shift. The weight on my chest lightened, the knot in my stomach loosening just slightly.

The campus lights glowed faintly in the distance as I walked, the soft hum of cars and distant laughter mingling with the sound of my own footsteps. It almost felt surreal, like the world was moving on without me, indifferent to the pieces of me I’d left behind in that apartment.

When I reached my place, my legs ached, and my chest still felt tight, but the stillness of my space greeted me like an old friend. I hovered in the entryway for a moment, the quiet wrapping around me. The temptation to reach for my phone was strong, the habit of years whispering in the back of my mind.

Instead, I made my way to the small wooden box on my dresser. My fingers brushed against the smooth surface as I opened it, revealing the gold hoop earrings nestled inside. The engraved patterns caught the dim light, their intricate design almost glowing against the dark velvet lining.

I hesitated, memories flickering through my mind. Shawn’s voice echoed faintly, the memory of him brushing them off with a careless “those are too much for you” ringing in my ears. I’d let it slide back then, just like I’d let so many other things slide. But not anymore.

I slipped the hoops on, the cool metal pressing lightly against my skin. They felt heavier than they used to, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable weight. It was grounding, a reminder of who I was before Shawn—and who I was going to be now.

Walking to the mirror above my dresser, I stared at my reflection. My eyes were red and puffy, my hair slightly disheveled, but there was something else there too. A spark. Faint, but unmistakable.

“You deserve better,” I whispered, and this time, the words didn’t feel like a plea. They felt like a promise.

I sat on the couch that night, wrapped in a blanket with the weight of the earrings steady against my skin. The silence around me wasn’t lonely—it was cleansing. Tomorrow, I’d figure out my next steps. Tonight, I’d wear my hoop earrings and remind myself of the strength that had always been mine.