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The High Note

Penulis: Rontora Nolan
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2025-12-19 03:34:16

The High Note was a smooth jazz and R&B club tucked just off Main Street, the kind of place that felt intimate no matter how crowded it became. From the outside, it didn’t look like much—just another brick building with a glowing sign—, but the moment you stepped inside, it wrapped itself around you. Low amber lights glowed against dark wood walls, casting everything in a warm, flattering haze, while candles flickered on small round tables like tiny promises of a good night. The steady hum of c
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  • Her Christmas Wish   Surprise Surprise

    2 Weeks LaterLaila sat curled into the corner of her sofa, a soft cream-colored throw blanket draped across her lap as Laya leaned heavily against her side. The Christmas lights she hadn’t quite found the heart to take down yet glowed softly around the living room, casting warm gold and red reflections across the walls. The tree was gone, the ornaments packed away, but the lights remained—small reminders of a season that had changed more than just the calendar.Her phone, propped up against a candle on the coffee table, rang, vibrating slightly against the wood.Jordan’s face filled the screen.“Daddy!” Laya squealed, scrambling forward on her knees and nearly knocking the phone over.“There are my girls,” Jordan said, his smile stretching wide across his face. There were faint shadows under his eyes, but his expression lit up the moment he saw them. “How was school, Laya?”“Boring,” she declared dramatically, flopping onto her stomach. “Daddy, I miss you. When can I see you again?”

  • Her Christmas Wish   Choices

    Laila loaded the last of the dishes into the dishwasher, lining the plates up with more precision than necessary, as if perfect rows of ceramic could quiet the storm building in her chest. The hum of the appliance filled the kitchen's silence, warm light casting a golden glow over the countertops. She closed the dishwasher gently, pressing her palm against it for a second before straightening.Just then, her mother stepped into the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel."Hey, baby. How are you?"The simple question unraveled her.Laila let out a long, shaky sigh and leaned back against the counter. "Hey, Momma. I am… Lord, I am so confused and conflicted.""Uh oh." Amelia arched a brow and leaned against the opposite counter, folding her arms across her chest. "Come over here and talk to me. The last time you felt this way, you chopped off all your hair in my bathroom and instantly regretted it."Despite herself, Laila laughed softly. "Thank God for wigs." She shook her head. "But

  • Her Christmas Wish   No Pressure

    The ride home carried a quiet that didn’t need explaining.Not awkward. Not strained. Just the natural hush that follows a full day—when everyone is too tired to pretend and too content to fill the space.The roar of the stadium had faded into memory, replaced by the low hum of the engine and the soft rhythm of passing streetlights. Outside the SUV, the city blurred in streaks of red and gold—traffic lights, storefronts, strings of white icicle lights clinging to rooftops. Inside, the world felt smaller. Warmer.Malaya had fallen asleep somewhere between the stadium exit and the highway.She’d tried to hold out—talking about ice cream, reenacting Jordan’s last pass with dramatic arm movements, insisting she could “totally throw like that.” Jordan had laughed. Laila had warned her gently not to knock herself into the door.But exhaustion won.Her words dissolved into a yawn. Her head tipped forward, and Laila guided it carefully to her shoulder.Now she slept deeply, one hand curled in

  • Her Christmas Wish   Chosen and Protected

    “Daddy, I don’t like her!” Malaya burst out, her voice trembling as she clung to Jordan’s leg, fingers fisting in the fabric of his pants. “She kept yelling at me for no reason!”Jordan’s body reacted before his mind could fully catch up. He dropped instantly, one knee hitting the carpeted floor of the box as he pulled Malaya against his chest, one large hand cradling the back of her head protectively. His jaw clenched so tight it ached as he looked down at her, then slowly lifted his gaze to Laila.Laila didn’t hesitate. She stepped forward, placing herself half a step in front of her daughter without even realizing she’d done it. Her voice was steady, controlled—but her eyes burned with fury. “She’s out of control. We were waiting for you, exactly where you told us to be. She came barreling in, bumped straight into Malaya, and then started calling me a liar.” Her lips pressed together briefly before she finished, her voice dropping into something sharp and dangerous. “And then she c

  • Her Christmas Wish   A Mother’s Warning

    Jordan changed quickly, adrenaline still buzzing through his veins as he made his way toward the box seats. Sweat cooled against his skin as the roar of the stadium dulled behind him, replaced by the quieter, insulated hum of the private corridors. He was smiling—already replaying Malaya’s grin from the stands, the way she’d jumped when he waved—until raised voices cut through the hallway.His steps slowed.Then he heard Malaya’s voice—small, shaky, threaded with fear.Jordan’s heart dropped.He pushed through the open door of the box and froze.Malaya stood half-hidden behind Laila, her little hands clutching the back of her mother’s coat like it was the only solid thing in the room. Laila’s body was angled protectively in front of her, shoulders squared, jaw tight, eyes sharp and unyielding. She looked calm—but Jordan knew that kind of stillness. It was the kind that came right before something snapped.Across from them stood April—red-faced, furious, and shrieking loud enough that

  • Her Christmas Wish   A Different Kind of Win

    Jordan barely felt the exhaustion as he headed into the locker room; adrenaline still thrummed through him, loud and electric beneath his skin. His muscles ached, sweat clung to him, and his chest heaved with every breath—but none of that mattered. He felt alive in a way he hadn’t in years. Focused. Grounded. Certain.Tonight hadn’t just been about football.It had been about proving something—to himself most of all.All season long, he’d been playing with a weight on his shoulders that had nothing to do with playbooks or pressure from the front office. Headlines. Whispers. The constant hum of speculation about his personal life. Every snap had felt like he was trying to outrun a past that refused to stay buried. But tonight? Tonight he’d played free.As he crossed the threshold into the locker room, the noise hit him all at once: laughter, shouting, the sharp hiss of showers turning on, cleats hitting concrete. The Bengals logo gleamed under the fluorescent lights, and for the first

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