Page 134 of Own It

Then, Ayan and I kissed one night, and after that, he began to pressure me to choose. Every day he’d damn near come with a laundry list of reasons as to why I should choose him over Rakim, and I couldn’t lie; he had some good points. The main one being that once released, Rakim wouldn’t have shit but the money he’d saved from his dead boxing career. Ayan was fine, up-and-coming, had continuous money, and no record.

A lot of the shit Ayan told me, in hindsight, was wrong. One thing he had right, though, was how Rakim would have to figure shit out financially since he couldn’t live off his savings forever. And sure enough, when I got wind that Rakim had started selling drugs, I knew—or thought—I’d made the right choice. You couldn’t pay me to build a life with a drug dealer. When I initially met Rakim, he was into that lifestyle but promised me he wouldn’t return and instead focused on boxing. That was a lie, clearly.

“Where is AJ?” I asked Ayan when he returned to the room.

“Playing a game with a snack,” he replied dryly, expression laced with fury still. It amazed me how he could flip a switch for the kids but then carry such venom in his eyes for me only seconds after engaging with them.

The first year or so with Ayan was perfect. He was sweet, caring, and spoiled me. He was everything he promised me he would be, and because Rakim was often obscure, I guess focusing on staying free and hustling, I didn’t have to see him. Over time, I began feeling good with the decision I’d made to leave him for Ayan.

Year two, I made the mistake of telling Ayan I recognized a move he did in the ring from seeing Rakim do it, and he slapped me across the face. I was so shocked and hurt that I didn’t react. Shortly after, though, he apologized to me, explaining that I was wrong for comparing him to my ex, and in a sense, he was right. I shouldn’t have said that. He’d promised it wouldn’t happen again, but of course, it did.

After I denied him sex four weeks after having our daughter Ayanna, he beat my ass and had been consistent with it since then. I assumed the frequency was because of how much he was going through in his career. At that time, sports announcers and interviewers had consistently brought Rakim up in the comments they made or questions they asked, and I watched how much it tortured him behind the scenes.

Once, a commentator stated that Ayan would never reach the potential of his father nor his brother, and he ransacked our hotel because of it. As I sat there, watching him send a chair through the TV, I recalled the time his younger brother Zaire pulled me to the side at one of Ayan’s practices, warning me that Ayan had an unhealthy obsession with competing with Rakim and to be careful.

Zaire had explained that I needed to be sure Ayan was simply trying to be brotherly and not take me away from Rakim as some sort of ‘a-ha’ moment. At this time, Ayan and I were parading our relationship as friendly and platonic, so I stupidly laughed it off, unwilling to reveal that what I felt for Ayan and vice versa was far from brotherly or sisterly.

Zaire had been right, however.

And as Ayan got better and the comparison comments lessened, the hits still came, so there was no excuse I could come up with for staying other than I loved him and had two kids with him, so I needed this to work. But there wasn’t a day I hadn’t wished that Rakim had just gotten into the car with me and left that night, instead of forcing me to leave him for his twin.

“Huh?” I snapped from my thoughts to look over at Ayan standing at the mouth of the bathroom, scowling at me.

“I said I’m getting a fucking DNA test on AJ and Ayanna.”

Rising to my feet, I asked, “For what? It is a waste of time and money, baby. They are yours. I swear I have not fucked your brother. He saw me with a bruise and decided to approach you himself.”

Ayan damn near flew across the room to get in my face, seething. “Yeah? And the fuck you doing around that nigga to where he can see a fucking bruise on yo’ face, LaMia? Hmm?” His face twitched a smidgen as he awaited my answer that would never come.

He had me there. Whenever Ayan hit me in the face, he wouldn’t allow me to leave the house, so I couldn’t say at the gym during one of his practices or anywhere that would put me in a place with Rakim by myself.

“I—”

“Exactly, bitch. See, you think everybody fucking stupid.” He laughed maniacally, shaking his head as he walked off toward his underwear drawer. “Oh, and you not coming with me tonight. We done.”

“Done?” I croaked. “What do you mean? And I already hired a babysitter for the event, Ayan.”

“What it sound like, dummy?” He eyed me, somewhat repulsed. “We over. And if them kids ain’t mine, I’m gon’ have Jojo murk you.” He slammed the bathroom door, leaving me there stupefied.

I was beside myself, not sure how to move or what to say in the moment. I felt as if I’d wasted five years of my life with this man and endured some of the most horrific things all for nought. It was clear he didn’t love me anymore, but I was confused on where the switch up happened.

But then . . . it hit me. Daylin. Rakim was besotted with her which in turn meant he no longer coveted me. I didn’t believe that, but Ayan had clearly been able to ascertain this, and now his desire for me had dwindled.

Oh, and I won’t tell him I don’t want you . . .

Suddenly, Rakim’s words from years ago had seeped into my head. I hadn’t understood them when he said it, but now I did. It was a reiteration of what Zaire tried to warn me of. To Ayan, I was no longer a prize or something to dangle in front of his brother’s eyes.

Hearing the doorbell, I grabbed my phone from the bedside table to see the babysitter, Amina, was here. I was about to tell her over the speaker to go home and that she wasn’t needed for the night but decided against it.

Ascending, I left the room and hurried down the stairs to open the door for her.

“Sorry I am late. There was traffic on the way for some reason.” Amina walked in, smiling brightly like always, and sometimes, it aggravated me. To see someone so overjoyed and full of life bothered me because it was such a far cry from my own experiences.

“No problem.” I shut the door, pushing my tattered strands to the back. “Um, Ayanna is asleep already. She wore herself out and didn’t take a nap, so she crashed early. AJ should be in his room playing a game on his tablet,” I ran off, and Amina nodded as she put her coat on the rack.

“Perfect. Has he eaten dinner already?” Her eyes bounced around my face, reminding me that Ayan had just hit me.

“No, they um, snacked all day.” I bypassed her, not giving a fuck what she thought about my parenting for the day or my injuries.