Chapter Three

JASON

“You can’t possibly be considering that!” Monalisa screamed, her voice sharp and urgent, cutting through the stillness of the room like a knife. Every syllable reverberated in my chest, striking at something deeper than reason.

I had called her over the phone, insisting we needed to talk. Driving to her apartment, my stomach twisted with anxiety, but I didn’t expect the storm that would greet me.

“Hey, babe. What was so important we needed to talk about?” she asked the moment she opened the door, her tone impatient, sharp, and laced with curiosity.

I stepped inside her fully furnished apartment—the place she now considered home, though I had a hand in every corner.

“No kiss?” I teased lightly, trying to diffuse the tension.

“Ohh… sorry,” she murmured, leaning forward to press her lips against mine. Her touch should have eased the tension inside me, but it only made the truth harder to hold.

“Want anything?” she offered, already moving to the kitchen. “Water? Something stronger?”

“Water,” I said. She poured a glass for me and, without hesitation, filled a tumbler with whiskey for herself.

“Is it about the wedding? ’Cause that’s all I can think about now,” she said, perching on the edge of the couch, swirling her drink with casual ease—but her eyes betrayed her eagerness, and maybe, fear.

“Well, about that…” I hesitated. Each word felt like dragging a blade across skin.

“What’s wrong?” she pressed, concern threading through her voice.

“We can’t have the wedding… not yet. Sixty days—that’s when I’ll be divorcing Madea.”

Her gasp was immediate and sharp, as though the words themselves had struck her. She stepped back, disbelief written across every line of her face.

Monalisa’s reaction was primal. Her entire body vibrated with shock and anger. Her eyes widened, searching mine for logic, for reassurance, for some fragment of reason behind my words—but there was none to offer.

“Five years I’ve waited, and now I have to wait another sixty days? How is this even a discussion?” Her voice cracked, trembling with a mix of anguish and fury.

She let out a frustrated groan, dropping onto the bed, folding her arms tightly across her chest. I could see every muscle tense, every nerve in her body screaming, trying to build a barrier between herself and the emotional chaos she felt rising.

I exhaled, dragging a hand down my face, wishing I could erase the pain reflected in her eyes. Everything felt heavier than it should. I could hear the quiet, insistent power in her voice, demanding truth, demanding attention.

“Monalisa… it’s nothing,” I said carefully, stepping closer, soft but firm. “It’s you I love. Not her. You. And this… this isn’t going to change anything between us.”

Her eyes snapped up, piercing, intense, searching for lies before they could even form. I swallowed hard, feeling my chest tighten under her scrutiny.

“Really nothing is going to change. Prove that to me—and divorce her,” she demanded, her voice trembling slightly, fragile yet dangerous.

“I wish I could… but it’s complicated.”

“What is, Jason?” Her voice trembled with barely contained anger. Her jaw tightened, her lips pressed together, and a flush spread across her neck and cheeks, betraying her fury, disbelief, and heartache all at once.

“Sixty days before she signs the divorce papers,” I said, forcing myself to meet her gaze. “How ridiculous.”

“This is insane, you know,” she laughed, a hollow, sharp laugh that made my chest ache. She shook her head slowly, as if trying to wrap her mind around the absurdity of it all. “Gosh, Jason… can you even hear yourself right now?”

I clenched my jaw. Every word she spat cut deeper than I expected, twisting inside me, making the tension in my chest almost unbearable. My hands itched to reach for her, to calm her, to touch her, but every instinct told me to wait, to let her vent, to let her storm rage.

“It’s nothing,” I repeated, but the words rang hollow, empty even to my own ears. “She just wants to fulfill my mother’s wishes. That’s all. It doesn’t mean anything to me.”

Monalisa sprang to her feet, energy crackling around her like electricity. “And your mother’s wish is that she stays with you, even when you don’t want her?” Her voice broke slightly, sharp and cutting. “Just… leave me alone, Jason. This is insane.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected. I could feel them pressing against my chest, suffocating me. I swallowed hard, searching for the right words, for calm, for control.

“We’re already divorced,” I said quickly. “Even if it’s not on paper yet.”

“Tell me something I haven’t heard, Jason.”

I hesitated. The truth pressed down on me like a boulder I couldn’t lift.

“There’s a clause in our marriage,” I admitted, my voice low, tight with tension. “My mother insisted that if I ever tried to leave, I had to remain married to Vanessa for at least five years. No matter what.”

Her eyes widened, shock flashing across her face. Her lips parted, but she didn’t speak. I could see the questions forming, but the words caught in her throat.

“We’ve been married four years and ten months,” I continued quietly, almost confessional. “Which means… in two months, I can officially dump her sorry ass.”

The room shrank around us. Silence thickened, pressing against my chest like a physical weight. Every sharp inhale she took echoed in my ears.

“Technically,” I finished, softer now, resigned, “I can’t divorce her yet.”

Monalisa stared at me, a storm of disbelief, hurt, and anger crossing her features. Her expression was unreadable, and yet I could feel the fire behind her eyes.

“What kind of mother makes a ridiculous clause like that?” she scoffed, voice rising. Her eyes glinted with fury, judgement slicing through me. “First a forced and arranged marriage, now this… gosh.”

“Hey,” I said, voice hardening, sharp and unyielding. “Don’t speak badly about my mother.”

She softened fractionally, frustration still burning in her eyes. “I’m sorry… but can’t you see she’s stopping me from being with you?” Her voice lowered, almost pleading, fragile and dangerous at the same time.

“She isn’t stopping anything,” I said, forcing calm, though my chest throbbed. “We’ll still be together. Nothing changes.”

“Nothing changes? She’ll be living right under the same roof as you.”

I looked away briefly, feeling the weight of the truth. Then I met her gaze again. “She’ll just stay here as… the cleaning lady,” I said, minimizing what was a ridiculous, humiliating reality.

Monalisa blinked, processing my words. Slowly, a smile crept across her face—cold, calculated, magnetic. Dangerous.

“Oh…” she murmured, low and deliberate. “Won’t it be nice when she hears me moan while I’m in your bed?”

Her voice dropped to a whisper, deliberate and cruel, and a heat, a coil of tension, wound tight inside me.

“When she hears how much you want me… not her.”

Something dark flickered in her eyes. I couldn’t look away. The pull was magnetic. Despite everything, her confidence, her certainty, her desire—it demanded surrender.

“Alright,” I said quietly, letting the words fall. “Sixty days. That’s it.”

“Nothing more,” I added quickly, reinforcing my own control, though every fiber of me wanted to dissolve into her.

She stepped closer, her hands sliding up my chest, claiming a space that already belonged to her.

“Nothing more,” she repeated softly, reverently almost.

Then, without warning, she leaned in.

And I kissed her.

For a moment, the world disappeared. Vanessa, the absurd clause, everything—the past—evaporated. There was only her. Only the heat of her body pressed against mine. Only the undeniable certainty of desire mirrored between us.

But just as our lips met, my phone buzzed violently on the table. Heart hammering, I pulled back slightly—and froze.

The screen flashed a name I never wanted to see again: Madea.

I froze, the world tilting on its axis.

What did she fucking want now?