MasukSADE I woke up tired and went to bed exhausted. I didn’t complain. It became a daily routine for me to wake up every day already feeling like I had a hundred broken bones. That was my life since I started running my company. I was tired, but I wasn’t complaining, though. I would do it over and over again.Everyday wasn’t the same, some days started before the sun was fully up, my alarm screaming like it was angry at me for even trying to get up, and I would roll out of bed, step over half unpacked boxes, and head straight for the kettle because coffee had become less of a drink for me and more of a lifeline, something I held onto to keep moving.“Okay,” I told myself one morning, staring at my reflection with swollen eyes and hair pulled into a messy knot. “You don’t get to fall apart yet.”The office wasn’t really an office at first. It was a rented space that smelled like paint and dust and old papers, with flickering lights and a desk that wobbled when you leaned on it too hard. I
SADEI stood in the middle of my new apartment, holding the documents Kross had given me, and I cried without making a sound.Everything was so small… The walls were bare and white, the curtains weren’t up, and there was only a large window leading to the balcony. My suitcase sat by the door like it wasn’t sure if it belonged there. The papers in my hand were already bent from how tightly I was gripping them. Business registration… permits… some I didn’t understand. His handwriting was on some of the notes in the corner, clean and careful, like he was afraid to rush me even on paper.I never wanted to leave him.That truth sat heavily in my chest, and I couldn’t shake off the thought of him pleading with me to stay. I slid down to the floor slowly, my back against the wall, the papers pressed to my chest like they could replace warmth. My throat burned. My eyes hurt. I didn’t sob or scream. I just let the tears fall and soak into my sweater.“I didn’t want this part,” I whispered to
KROSS I was sitting on the couch watching TV when I heard the door slam.It wasn’t an angry slam or a fast one… it was only just the soft click of a zipper and the careful drag of a suitcase wheel that said she was trying not to be loud, trying not to make this more complicated than it already was.I walked to the hallway barefoot, coffee cold in my hand, watching her fold herself into leaving.Sade moved as if she were afraid she would change her mind if she stayed too long.She didn’t look at me at first. She had on that gray sweater she liked because it was too big and made her feel hidden. Her hair was pulled back, and she wore no makeup. That showed me she was in a hurry to leave, and it hurt more than anything else could.“You don’t have to go like this,” I said, keeping my voice low like the walls were listening.She stopped but didn’t turn around.“I do,” she said. “If I don’t, I won’t.”I stepped closer. Not close enough to touch her. I didn’t trust myself with that.“You co
SADE He didn’t start gently; he didn't sugarcoat his words. And maybe that was the worst part, because I was still sitting there with my heart open, still exposed from admitting something that had taken me days to build the courage to say, and instead of reaching for it, he pushed it back toward me like it didn’t belong to him.“You don’t really love me,” Kross said, his voice calm in a way that felt cruel because it didn’t match how loud my heart suddenly became.I blinked at him, sure I’d heard him wrong.“What?” I asked, my throat tight already.“You think you do,” he continued, leaning forward slightly, his hands clasped together like he’d rehearsed this, “but you don’t.”“That’s not true,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “You don’t get to tell me what I feel.”“Yes, I do,” he said, cutting me off before I could say anything else, his tone firm but not raised, “because I know what this looks like.”My chest burned.“No,” I insisted, my voice cracking. “You don’t know me better t
SADE I woke up the next day after bawling my eyes out and realized that if I stayed curled inside my bed any longer, it would start owning parts of me that didn’t belong to grief. So I made a quiet decision right there in my bed that I would not disappear into mourning even if it still lived with me, because my mom didn’t survive what she did just for me to stop living once she was gone.That didn’t mean I was suddenly fine or healed or strong every second of the day; it just meant I didn’t want the stress to bring down my life, and even when my chest still felt heavy, and my eyes still burned without warning, I was going to push through.The company sat in my mind, living rent-free.My company.Those words still felt strange when I said them out loud.“I own a perfume line,” I whispered one afternoon, standing in front of my workspace, and I almost laughed because it sounded unreal, like something that belonged to another person. This braver person deserved it and didn’t wake up eve
SADE I woke up the next day and decided I would remember my mom by making a scent for her, not because anyone told me to do it or because it felt brave, but because the silence inside me had grown too loud and I needed somewhere to put the pain before it swallowed me whole.I didn’t eat breakfast that morning, and I didn’t check my phone. I didn’t even open the curtains fully. I just moved through the morning like someone underwater, my chest aching with every breath like my body already knew what my mind was about to put it through.When I got to my workspace, I stood there for a long time without moving, staring at the table like it might talk me out of it, like it might say “This is too much, you don’t have to do this today,” but nothing spoke back, so I tied my hair up with shaking fingers and washed my hands like I was preparing for something sacred and dangerous at the same time.“Okay,” I whispered, my voice breaking already. “Okay, Mama.”The first scent I reached for made my







