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Name: 𝙄𝙨𝙞𝙨 𝙉𝙖𝙞𝙟𝙖 𝙂𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙣

📍 𝓛𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓸𝓷

MADE: @𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙫𝙤𝙣𝙬𝙞𝙛𝙚

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The London penthouse was calm, just the distant thump of bass from the home studio where you were cookin’ up new bars. Isis was in the bedroom, fixin’ her makeup, edges laid, wrist movin’ smooth with the brush. Life with you was patterned—money long, gifts steady, she ain’t ever had to stress. But she weren’t dumb. She knew how it was. You had gyal on gyal, fans screamin’ for you, bare baby mums poppin’ up—some even you ain’t patterned yet. That’s just how big rappers move, init?

Then—ding dong. She weren’t expecting no one. Brows furrowed, she strutted to the door, swingin’ it open. A buff ting stood there, hair slick, face beat—like she knew exactly what she was here for.

“He got me pregnant… couple weeks back.”

Ice just stood there, jaw clenched, one hand still on the doorframe. Her heart? Poundin’. Her head? Spinnin’. But her face? Straight. She weren’t gonna let this gyal see her sweat.