Chapter 5 Things we don't say😩🥺

Jasmine moved like it was just another Saturday. She poured the coffee. Added oat milk. Burned the toast. She flipped through her phone, pretending her fingers weren't trembling.

She had left Marcus. Said it. Meant it. But the weight of it didn't hit until the silence crept in.

Leila noticed the quiet first.

Not the comfortable kind they shared when they were deep in thought or scrolling next to each other on the couch-but the strange, hollow kind. The kind that filled a room when someone was pretending very, very hard.

Leila leaned against the kitchen counter, arms folded. "So are we going to talk about it, or are you going to keep pretending like nothing is going on?"

Jasmine didn't look up.

She just exhaled, slow and shaky. "I left Marcus last night."

The room stilled.

Not even the hum of the fridge dared to interrupt.

Leila blinked. "You... What?"

Jasmine finally met her eyes. And for once, there was no smirk. No sass. Just truth.

"I left him. I unfollowed him, removed his location from mine, deleted the shared calendar, and told him I wasn't coming back."

"Oh, Jazz. You didn't say anything about this."

"When you had gone to bed, Marcus and I had a long talk and I had to call it quit."

Leila walked over and wrapped her arms around her. "I'm really sorry, babes. But you know, it's long overdue, yeah?"

Jasmine pulled away slightly, her voice rough. "I'm hurting. Not the right time for this."

"Fine... I'm sorry," Leila said softly.

They stood in the quiet of the kitchen, the smell of burnt toast clinging to the air. The kind of silence that didn't need filling. The kind that knew healing had to start somewhere.

And maybe, this was it.

They moved to the couch, coffee mugs in hand, sinking into the cushions like they needed permission to sit still.

"I loved him," Jasmine said quietly.

Leila turned to her. "I know."

"I loved the version I thought he could be. The one who listened when I spoke, the one who supported me on stage, who said he was proud of me after interviews. But that guy only showed up in public."

Leila nodded slowly, letting her talk.

"At home, he chipped away at me," Jasmine continued. "Little comments. Quiet doubts. He'd make jokes about my dreams. Say I talked too much. Say I wanted too much attention. That my job was fake. That I was fake."

Leila's hands curled into fists. "Jazz-"

"I'm not saying he hit me. He never raised his voice. That's the thing. It was so quiet, I didn't even know I was bleeding."

The room felt heavier. Jasmine leaned her head back against the sofa.

"I thought love was supposed to hurt a little. You know? That's what I was taught. That if you're lucky enough to find someone who picks you, you make it work. You fold yourself small enough to fit their version of love."

"Who taught you that?" Leila asked softly.

Jasmine laughed, but it was brittle. "My parents. They never said it out loud, but it was in everything they did. My mom folded herself into my dad's world so seamlessly, you couldn't even tell where she began. She used to say things like, 'Don't be too loud, Jasmine. Don't challenge too much. No one likes a difficult woman.'"

Leila's throat tightened.

"And Marcus?" Jasmine shrugged. "He reminded me of my dad. Not the yelling. Just the silence. The control in the name of peace. He'd smile at me in public, then punish me in private with silence. Or guilt."

Leila shifted, her voice gentle but sure. "You didn't deserve that. Any of it."

"I know," Jasmine said. "But I stayed. Because I thought maybe if I worked harder, he'd love me better."

Leila leaned over, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"You're not starting over," she said. "You're starting smarter. And that takes guts."

Jasmine let out a shaky breath. "I feel like I failed."

"You didn't. You chose yourself. That's the opposite of failure."

The clock ticked. Outside, traffic passed by like nothing monumental had just happened inside.

"I don't want to be afraid to take up space anymore," Jasmine whispered.

"Then don't be," Leila said. "You're safe now."

Jasmine turned her head. "You think that's possible? Being safe without being small?"

"I do," Leila said. "And if anyone tries to make you shrink again, I'll set something on fire."

That pulled a real laugh from Jasmine. The kind that cracked open the fog.

"You're such a menace," she said, wiping her eyes.

"If that's what I need to be for you to be safe, then I'm fine with that "

They watched in silence for a few minutes before Leila grabbed the remote and paused the movie. "Okay. Serious question. What's your go-to karaoke song?"

Jasmine gave her a blank stare. "Excuse me?"

"Don't make me repeat myself," Leila said, jumping off the couch and pulling Jasmine with her. "We're playing a game. You tell me your go-to karaoke song and then we sing a bit of it. I'll go first. Whitney Houston's 'I Wanna Dance With Somebody.' Duh."

Jasmine rolled her eyes but played along. "Fine. Probably... 'If I Ain't Got You' by Alicia Keys."

Leila grabbed her phone and cued up the karaoke version on YouTube. As the music began to play through the Bluetooth speaker, she handed Jasmine a rolled-up TV remote as a mic.

"Don't embarrass Alicia," Leila warned with mock seriousness.

Jasmine smirked. "I'll try not to."

Her voice was shaky at first, but as she settled into the song, something shifted. Leila danced dramatically around the living room, acting like Jasmine's backup dancer. It was ridiculous, but Jasmine couldn't stop laughing. For those few minutes, the weight of everything she was dealing with seemed far away, like someone else's story.

They ended up belting out more classics: Destiny's Child's "Say My Name," some Taylor Swift, and even a hilariously terrible attempt at Cardi B's "I Like It."

By the time they collapsed on the couch again, breathless and red-faced, they had created a bubble where sadness wasn't invited.

"God, I needed that," Jasmine said, clutching her side.

"That's the point," Leila said. "Laughter is therapy without the bill."

Jasmine looked at her, eyes softer now. "Thanks for today. Really."

Leila reached over and squeezed her hand. "You don't owe me thanks. That's what sisters do. We show up. We stay. Even when it's ugly. Especially then."

They sat like that a little longer-two women, two mugs, and the invisible threads of truth finally being untangled.

Later, Leila would remember this moment not just for Jasmine leaving Marcus, but as the beginning of her friend's return to herself.

And for the first time in a long time, Jasmine looked like she might believe that too.

Later that afternoon, Jasmine stood by Leila's bookshelf, trailing a finger across the spines. "You ever feel like your whole life has been edited by someone else?"

Leila, now curled in the armchair, looked up from her tablet. "You mean like growing up with a script you never wrote?"

Jasmine gave a half-smile. "Exactly."

She picked up a worn copy of Women Who Run With the Wolves, flipping through its underlined pages. "I used to think freedom was loud. Like burning things down or running away. But now I think maybe it's just... being allowed to exist in a space without apologizing."

Leila closed her tablet, giving her full attention. "When did you realize things with Marcus were wrong?"

Jasmine leaned against the shelf. "Honestly? The night I got the TV show deal. You remember that?"

Leila nodded. "You were ecstatic."

"He wasn't. He said, 'Are you sure this is even a real opportunity?' Like I hadn't spent weeks pitching, writing scripts, and recording demos. He made me doubt myself in the middle of my biggest win."

Leila sat up. "I remember that night. You drank wine straight from the bottle, said it was to celebrate. But you were crying two hours later."

Jasmine gave a small nod. "That was the first crack. The rest came quietly. Like the time he said I should let him speak during interviews because he 'sounded more neutral.' Or when he said my laugh was 'too loud for serious spaces.'"

"Girl."

"Yeah. It took time. But once I saw it, I couldn't unsee it."

Leila crossed the room and wrapped her arms around her. "You're free now. You're allowed to take up space, Jazz. Loudly. Brilliantly. As much as you want."

Jasmine's eyes glistened. "Thank you."

They sat in silence again, this time wrapped in warmth.

And when Jasmine finally smiled, it was small-but it reached her eyes.