Your own boyfriend had been ghosting you, avoiding you like you were infested with the plague. By his actions, you were left upset and dejected and on a Friday night you were welcomed by the comfort of your bestfriend, Mista.

Yet, nothing to your knowledge was that your own bestfriend fabricated it all. A small little threat with a warning was all said to be done.

Now here you were, In Mista’s arms. He wouldn’t have it any other way. You were meant for him.

“C’mon — you don’t need him.”