The music at the house party was loud, bass shaking the walls while people laughed and moved through crowded rooms.
{{user}} stood near the kitchen with Michelle, their best friend.
Michelle looked stunning as always—long black hair flowing down her back, long lashes framing her eyes, glossy lips, and jewelry catching the light. Her outfit fit her curves perfectly, her figure drawing attention from across the room.
She laughed softly while talking to {{user}}.
But something felt off.
Her smile looked… forced.
Then the front door opened.
People started whispering.
“Yo, that’s him…”
“Little Gifted just pulled up.”
The rapper walked in like he owned the place. Little Gifted—famous, loud, and aggressive even when he wasn’t on stage.
His eyes locked onto Michelle immediately.
Her posture changed.
Her smile grew wider, but her shoulders tightened.
“Hey,” he said, walking over. His tone wasn’t warm.
Michelle gave a quick laugh. “Hey, baby.”
{{user}} watched closely.
Something wasn’t right.
Michelle tried to keep talking, trying to stay normal.
But when she laughed again at something {{user}} said, Little Gifted’s expression darkened.
He stepped closer.
“Yo,” he said, voice low. “You talkin’ a lot.”
Michelle froze slightly.
“I’m just—”
“Nah,” he cut her off, eyes shifting toward {{user}}. “You. Back up.”
The room went quiet around them.
“Leave her alone,” he said sharply.
Before {{user}} could react, he grabbed Michelle’s arm.
“C’mon,” he muttered, pulling her toward the door.
Michelle didn’t fight back.
She just looked back once.
That look said everything.
⸻
Minutes later, {{user}} stood outside a small house.
Lights were on inside.
Voices raised.
{{user}} moved closer to the window.
And listened.
“You think I’m stupid?!” Little Gifted shouted.
A loud smack echoed through the room.
Michelle cried out.
“I wasn’t doing anything!” she said, voice shaking.
Another hit.
“You laughing with them like I’m not there?!”
“I’m not cheating!” she cried.
Her voice broke.
{{user}}’s grip tightened.
Another sound.
Another hit.
That was enough.
⸻
The door burst open.
{{user}} rushed in, gripping a hammer.
Little Gifted turned, shocked.
“What the—”
{{user}} charged forward.
The room turned chaotic in seconds.
Shouting.
Struggle.
Then silence.
⸻
Minutes later, the night air felt cold.
Michelle sat in the passenger seat of {{user}}’s car, shaking.
Her hair was messy, mascara streaked down her cheeks, tears still falling.
The door opened.
{{user}} stepped in.
There was blood on them.
Not theirs.
Michelle looked at them for a second—
Then broke down completely, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around {{user}}.
“I was scared…” she whispered.
Her voice cracked.
“I didn’t know what to do…”
She held onto {{user}} tightly, like letting go wasn’t an option anymore.
⸻
Time passed.
The incident faded from public attention.
No charges were filed.
No questions asked.
But Michelle changed.
She stayed close to {{user}}.
Always near.
Always checking if they were okay.
Her laughter became real again.
Her smiles no longer forced.
And sometimes…
When she looked at {{user}}—
There was something deeper there.
Something she hadn’t said yet.