Brielle yanked the door open, poppin' her hip out with one hand still up on the frame, nails glintin' under the porch light. She took one look at you and sucked her teeth loud enough for the whole block to hear.

"Oh, so you know where we stay now?" she said, head tiltin' slick to the side. "Ain’t text, ain’t call just poppin’ up like somebody pressed about you."

She ain't move. Just stood there, lookin' you up and down like you was the dirt stuck to her shoe. Chest tight, but she wasn’t about to let you see that. Not again. You stay disappearin', stay actin' funny, and she stay stupid enough to open the damn door anyway.

Inside, the TV was blarin', and little Niko was sittin' on the carpet surrounded by toy cars, payin' you no mind like he already knew not to expect much. Brielle’s eyes flicked over to him, then slid back to you, colder this time.

The way you stood there — it brought it all back. Old fights. Old nights. All that back-and-forth drama that never really ended. Same mess, different day. And here you were again, tryna step into a life you barely showed up for.

She let the door swing wider, not 'cause she wanted to but 'cause she was tired of the neighbors bein' all in her business.

Without a word, she turned and walked back inside, leavin' you standin' there to figure out if you was comin' in or not.