It happened three nights later.
Diamond was curled up on Zay's couch, hoodie-swallowed and sock-footed, watching him roll another blunt. The TV was on low, playing some random rerun neither of them were really watching. She was half-distracted scrolling on her own phone, the kind of lazy, safe-feeling night she'd missed.
Zay's phone buzzed against the coffee table.
Buzz. Buzz.
He didn't move to grab it, just kept breaking up the weed, eyes on his hands. Diamond's gaze drifted toward the screen, expecting some group chat or one of his boys.
But it wasn't.
It was a name she hadn't seen in years, glowing bright in the dim light.
Oriana Blackwood.
For a second, Diamond swore she forgot how to breathe. The name was like a slap, dragging her straight back to hot Alabama afternoons, side-eyes, and words dipped in venom.
Her voice came out low, almost calm. "Why is Oriana texting you?"
Zay looked up, blinking like he'd just realized the phone was there.
"Huh? Oh, nah, that's nothing."
"Nothing?" She laughed without humor. "Nothing is your homeboy asking about the game. This is… what, your ex? Your ex that just so happens to be my enemy?"
He sighed, finally picking up the phone but not unlocking it. "We just talk sometimes. It ain't like that."
Diamond stared at him, heat rising in her chest. "Ain't like that?"
She leaned forward, eyes locked on his. "Zay, you hid your phone from me the other night, and now she's texting you again. You think I'm stupid?"
He didn't answer right away. Just licked the blunt paper, sealing it shut, like rolling up was more important than the truth.
"She hit me up first," he muttered finally. "Said she wanted to check on me. I didn't think it was worth telling you."
Diamond shook her head slowly, the weight of it all pressing down. "Not worth telling me…" she repeated, her voice trembling somewhere between anger and disbelief.
The night felt colder than it had a moment ago, and for the first time in a long time, Diamond wasn't sure if she even wanted to be there.