Dear Myles

A Week Ago...

The soft click of the office door closing echoed louder than it should have. Imani turned the lock and leaned against the frame for a second, collecting herself. Her gaze drifted over to Avana, who sat cross-legged on the leather couch near the window, sipping a matcha latte and scrolling through something on her phone. Cool, calm, unreadable.

But Imani knew her sister too well.

“Av… can we talk for a second?”

Avana looked up, her brows pinching slightly. “Sure. What’s up?”

Imani crossed the room and took the seat beside her, the tension already coiling between them. She reached for Avana’s hand, holding it gently between both of hers. “There’s something I need to tell you… and I should’ve told you sooner. I just… I wasn’t sure how to say it.”

Avana’s posture straightened, eyes narrowing slightly. But her voice stayed even. “You’re scaring me. Just say it, Mani.”

Imani exhaled and looked her sister in the eye. “Myles Lane is coming to the wedding. And the pre-wedding family week in St Lucia. He RSVP’d last week.”

For a beat, Avana didn’t react. She blinked once. Twice. Then her entire body went still.

Like someone had unplugged her from her own nerves.

Imani waited for the blow-up that never came. Instead, Avana slowly set her cup on the coffee table and stared at it like it might provide answers. Her face remained perfectly composed, but her fingers curled tightly into fists on her lap.

“I figured,” she said quietly. “Owen’s tight with Micah. It was always a possibility.”

“Avana…” Imani shifted closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, her voice soft with guilt. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I wasn’t trying to keep it from you—I just wanted to find the right time, and then it kept… not being the right time.”

“It’s fine.” Avana’s voice was clipped, but her eyes stayed trained on the middle distance. “It’s your wedding. You deserve joy. I’ll deal.”

“You don’t have to just deal.” Imani gently squeezed her. “Talk to me. What’s going through your head?”

A long pause stretched between them. Avana didn’t answer right away, but the storm in her eyes began to crack beneath the weight of silence. Finally, she let out a shaky breath.

“I haven’t said his name out loud in years.”

Imani said nothing, letting the space hold for her.

“When we met in college—he was wild, brilliant, infuriating… magnetic.” Her voice lowered, more to herself than to Imani. “One of those men who walks into a room and changes the oxygen. He had demons, even back then. At first, it felt like I could be his calm. His anchor.”

She gave a sad, humorless laugh. “Instead, I drowned trying to keep him afloat.”

Imani’s heart ached.

“We were off and on for years. Always intense. Always passionate. But never… peaceful. He’d swear he was done drinking or using drugs, then I’d come home to find him passed out on my couch, mumbling about being better tomorrow.” Avana shook her head, her jaw tight. “One of those nights, I stood in the doorway with my keys to his apartment still in my hand, and I knew—I just knew—I couldn’t bring a child into that.”

Imani’s eyes widened. “You knew you were pregnant?”

Avana nodded, swallowing hard. “Twelve weeks. I hadn’t told him yet. I was going to. But then I found him, blackout drunk and high as hell in his living room, after swearing he’d gone to therapy that day. And something inside me snapped. I packed a bag and left that night. Never looked back.”

Silence settled over the office like dust.

“I didn’t tell him because I couldn’t trust him to show up. Not for me. Not for her.”

Imani blinked back tears. She had known pieces of the story. But never this.

“You protected Malika. And yourself,” she whispered, squeezing Avana’s hand. “You did what you had to do.”

“I know,” Avana murmured, her voice thick. “But now… he’s coming. And he has no idea he has a daughter. And I don’t know what I’m supposed to do when I see his face.”

Imani reached for her sister’s other hand and held both tightly. “Whatever you decide… I’m here. You’re not alone in this.”

For a moment, the bravado slipped. Avana leaned her head on Imani’s shoulder, silent tears tracking down her cheeks. And Imani just held her. No solutions. No pressure. Just love.

“Thank you,” Avana whispered, her voice cracking. “For telling me. For… giving me a little time to prepare.”

“Take all the time you need. We’ll face this together.”

And in that quiet, heart-wrenching moment, two sisters sat in a private office in Manhattan—bound not only by blood, but by the ache of wounds that still hadn’t fully healed… and the promise that, come what may, they would face the storm side by side.

But the silence lingered between them, thick and charged.

Avana finally lifted her head from Imani’s shoulder, but her gaze was far off—still lost in the ghost of a man who’d once promised her the world and then handed her heartbreak instead. Her arms crossed protectively over her chest, a barrier Imani recognized all too well.

Imani studied her quietly before asking, softly, “Are you going to tell him?”

Avana’s jaw tightened. Her eyes didn’t move. “I don’t know.”

Imani nodded slowly, giving her space.

“I mean…” Avana exhaled a dry, bitter laugh, “what do you even say to the man who tore your heart to shreds? How do you tell him that you disappeared from his life while you carried and raised a daughter he didn’t even know existed?”

“You don’t owe him anything,” Imani said gently. “But Malika deserves the truth. And Myles—whether he’s earned it or not—has a right to know. I’m not telling you what to do, Vana. I just know that secrets… they don’t stay buried forever.”

Avana finally looked up, her eyes guarded but swirling with emotion. “I know that too. I’ve always known it. I just… I can’t let him unravel everything I’ve built. The peace I’ve finally found. The life I’ve created with Malika—it’s safe. It’s solid. And he was never any of those things.”

“You don’t trust him,” Imani said, not accusing—just stating the obvious.

Avana shook her head. “No. I don’t. And I don’t know if I ever could again. He was my one, Mani. My great, stupid, reckless love. The kind that burns too hot and leaves nothing but ash when it’s over. And I’ve lived with the burn marks for a long time.”

Imani took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. “I get it. I do. But not telling him doesn’t erase what he was to you. Or what he still might be to Malika. And I know it feels impossible right now, but you have a chance to own the truth. On your terms. Before it comes out in a way you can’t control.”

Avana looked down, her expression unreadable, but her hands were trembling slightly in her lap.

“You don’t have to decide tonight,” Imani continued softly, reaching for her hand. “But you’re stronger than you think. And no matter how this plays out—you won’t be alone. I’ve got you. Always.”

Avana let out a breath that sounded like a surrender, her shoulders deflating under the weight she’d been carrying far too long.

She allowed Imani to pull her into a hug again—this time clinging a little tighter, her head pressed against her sister’s collarbone, her breath shaky against Imani’s neck.

“I’m so tired of holding this by myself,” she whispered.

“You don’t have to,” Imani murmured, holding her steady. “Whatever happens when you see him—you’ll handle it. Because you always do. And I’ll be right there beside you.”

For the first time in a long time, Avana let herself fully melt into the comfort of her sister’s embrace. And though her heart still twisted at the thought of seeing Myles again—of facing everything she’d buried years ago—there was also something else… something quieter, deeper.

Courage.

And the smallest glimmer of possibility.

She didn’t have a plan yet. But for the first time, she was thinking about one.