Keisha steps out of the black tinted car wearing
oversized sunglasses and a black maxi dress that
flutters in the wind. The taxi drives off, revealing
two large suitcases lined up beside her. She's
back. She's really back. I grab my mail, close
the mailbox, and hurry inside. I don't hide.
Just hover by the window, peeking through the
curtain. It hits me like a punch to the gut.
Brandon once told me he never signed the divorce
papers because he still loved her. So what the
hell was he doing with me? Nausea twists in my
stomach. I'm not angry. Not even mad. Just...
disappointed. Keisha walks up the pebbled stone
path and knocks, no, bangs, on his door. Moments
later, Brandon steps out. I can't see their faces
clearly, but I can see enough the way they hold
each other, the way his arms wrap around her
like muscle memory. She points toward her suitcases,
and like the gentleman he always is, he grabs
them, one by one. Then, before stepping inside,
he glances across the street at me, and my heart
sinks. What the hell, Brandon? Our dinner reservations
are at 7, and it's now 5 .42 p .m. Ever since
I saw Brandon walk into his house this morning,
I haven't seen or heard from him. Maybe he just
forgot. Maybe he's busy with his wife. I refuse
to go by the window for the tenth time. It's
turning into an obsession. So I slip on my track
clothes, grab my keys, and drive off. I don't
actually go running. Instead, I park outside
a random deli and sit there, staring at my phone,
checking emails, pretending to be busy. I don't
get back home until after nine. I'm just about
to shower when I hear a loud banging at the door.
Wrapping the towel tighter around me, I hurry
downstairs and swing it open. Brandon stands
there, face tense, torn, like he's been pacing
for hours. His eyes flick over me, slow and heavy,
tracing the towel wrapped around my body. There's
quiet restraint in his gaze, a struggle he's
clearly losing. His jaw tightens as his throat
bobs, and then he clears it, shaking his head
as if to chase away whatever thought just crossed
his mind. You were out? I hold his gaze. Yes.
Why? I tried calling, texting. You didn't answer.
I forgot my phone at home. I lie. Oh. He rubs
the back of his neck. I was calling to cancel
dinner, but it looks like you already had plans.
Yep. He pauses. Is something wrong? I don't know,
Brandon. You tell me. My voice cracks, but I
stand my ground. I saw your wife pull up this
morning. I know she's at your house. So please
don't drag this out. He exhales sharply, dragging
a hand down his face. You're right. She is at
my house. Then we have nothing else to say. I
move to shut the door, but his foot blocks it.
Well, I have a lot to say. He steps forward slightly,
frustration rippling off him. Two years, Shauna.
Two fucking years since Keisha left me. And the
moment I finally signed those papers, she came
running back. When I realized there was something
deeper between us after that first kiss I knew
I couldn't stay married to her not even on paper
He sighs I'd been selfish holding on for all
the wrong reasons and I see that now I was keeping
her hostage and I'm paying for that He exhales
hard emotion tightening his jaw But when I finally
signed those papers two weeks ago, she came running
back saying she wanted to reconcile after two
years Shauna Two years of silence of living with
another man and suddenly she wants to fix things
He shakes his head No, I signed those papers
because I want to be with you because I want
to move forward with us I Stare up at him lost
for words. I didn't expect him to do something
so bold so final But he did and he did it for
me I don't know how long it'll take for her to
sign, but if I have to lawyer up, then so be
it. Brandon adds, I know this isn't what you
want to hear, that my ex -wife came running back.
But this is where things stand right now. And
I'm trying to handle it the right way, so please
be patient with me. I reach up and touch his
cheek. You just do what you have to do. The words
come out softer than I expect, because really,
I'm speechless. He's doing everything right.
He's being the man he promised to be. She's going
to stay with me for now. He continues. I told
her to get a hotel, but she refused. I thought
about leaving instead, getting a room somewhere
else. I shake my head. What? No! I'm sorry, Shawna.
But if you need me for anything, just text or
call, okay? I nod, unable to form words. Brandon
turns, walks off into the dim streetlight. leaving
me standing in the doorway, still stunned. I
can't believe she's back, or that she has the
nerve to want him again just because he finally
signed those papers. I sigh, closing the door
behind me. The next morning, I'm in the kitchen
making coffee when I remember the message saying
a package had been dropped off at my door. I
step outside, grab it, and decide to wet the
flowers at the front while I'm at it. Shauna!
It has. She tilts her head. So how are things
with you and... Eric? Eric passed a few months
ago. The words don't sting like they used to.
Oh, sorry about that. My condolences. She says,
flat as glass. I can tell she doesn't mean a
word of it. Thank you. I murmur. So... How's
life treating you? It's fine." She nods, stirring
invisible thoughts. Oh, I say, lifting a brow.
Right. I manage. Well, I've got coffee brewing,
so I should get back to it. Oh, can I join you?
She says suddenly, flashing that too bright smile.
I've been craving a cup, but I have no idea how
to use the coffee machine at home. It's so high
tech. Really? Isn't Brandon there to help you
with that? Oh, no, he had something to do. She
waves a hand. I'm not sure when I'll see him
again. I grip my robe tighter, rolling my eyes.
Sure. Come in, then. She follows me inside, her
eyes scanning every inch of my home. Our house
used to look like this, she says casually. But
after the remodel, it's so much better. You should
really think about renovating. She slides onto
a stool by the island. I pour her a cup. And
she takes a sip before her gaze meets mine. Sharp,
deliberate. Hmm. She smirks. So, have you been
fucking my husband? I freeze, staring at her,
stunned by her bluntness. Excuse me? Keisha sets
her coffee cup down and smiles sheepishly. It's
just a question. It's a bold question, I reply.
and a bit out of place. Oh, well. She shrugs.
I'm just trying to figure some things out in
my head. It slipped out. Anyway, so are you?
I fold my arms. No, I'm not fucking your husband,
Keisha. Interesting. She takes another sip of
coffee, eyes glinting with mischief. You know,
Brandon's always liked you, and now with your
husband gone? Stop I cut her off my tone cold.
You're getting out of pocket. It's time for you
to leave She stands slowly setting her cup aside
Since I've been back. I've noticed a lot of things
have changed in him Well, maybe because two years
have passed since you last saw him. I snap people
actually change her lips curl You're a bit defensive.
Aren't you? for someone who's a widow and isn't
sleeping with my husband. You need to leave.
I saw him yesterday. He came over to talk to
you. What did he say? I don't think that's any
of your business. It is when I'm his wife. Are
you really Keisha? I stepped closer. My patient's
gone. Because last I checked, you left him two
years ago for another man. An older one, if I
recall. She huffs. You can just be truthful with
me. I set my coffee down and narrow my eyes at
her. Fine. Brandon and I have been dating. It
started after my husband died, because he was
there for me. He helped me. He cared. So yes,
we've been seeing each other. But no, I have
not fucked your husband. Keisha's smile twists
into something sly. So you're the reason he wants
the divorce. I turn away, done with the conversation.
Well… She continues. As long as he's happy. I
was just curious, you know, because nobody steals
my Brandon's heart. It belonged to me. I didn't
think he'd ever get over me. But now I understand
he's always had a thing for you, even when you
were with Eric. The way he used to watch you
from the lawn… My blood runs cold. I think that's
why I left. Keisha says, voice soft, but sharp
enough to cut. He was obsessed with you. And
now that Eric's gone, damn, he didn't waste any
time, did he? I stare at her, refusing to flinch.
She lets out a dramatic gasp, clutching her chest
as if struck by revelation. What if the two of
you were meant to be? What if Eric was just a
placeholder? I glare at her. You are being insensitive.
Stop. She ignores me. I think Brandon's your
soulmate, Shauna. Anger builds inside me. Eric
was my soulmate. Keisha smiles faintly, almost
toying with me. If you say so, but honestly,
I don't love Brandon the way I used to. I was
just... curious. You've stolen his heart this
time, and I'm glad it's you." She straightens,
brushing imaginary lint from her dress. My boyfriend
and I are over. He's in an elderly home now.
There's nothing else I can possibly do with him,
sadly. I let out a small, exasperated laugh.
You don't say. Maybe I'll use the time to go
back to school. Anyway, she says lightly. I was
just trying to be messy. I'll sign those divorce
papers. You can have him. I wish the two of you
the best of luck. She moves closer and reaches
to hug me. I hesitate, then let her arms brush
around me briefly. Take good care of him, Shauna.
She says, pulling back with a faint smile. But
I know you will. See ya. She leaves as casually
as she arrived. Fluffy slippers, swaying hips,
perfume lingering, and me standing there trying
to process the hurricane she just walked in with.
For the next two days, I kept that bit of conversation
between Keisha and me to myself, and let Brandon
and her sort things out on their own. Whatever
they need to handle, they do. By the third day,
Keisha is gone. Brandon comes over, ecstatic,
saying she's finally signed the papers. I don't
tell him about our conversation. Some things
are better left unspoken. He cups my cheek and
kisses me softly. I kiss him back with reverence.
When he pulls away, he smiles. I think I owe
you a date. You do? Also, I baked another carrot
cake. You did? How was the first one? Awesome.
He says with a grin. I didn't want to ask again
because I didn't want to seem greedy. I laugh,
reaching into the oven to pull out the pan. The
smell of cinnamon fills the kitchen as I slice
into it and feed him a piece. He leans closer,
his hand sliding to my waist. His warmth seeps
into me, steady and familiar. For the first time
in months, I feel something real, something like
peace, and I'm not complaining. There's a saying
that goes, There's goodness in simplicity. I've
always understood it, but tonight it makes even
more sense. When Brandon knocks on my door and
tells me he's cooking for me, I'm ecstatic. Not
because I don't enjoy fancy dinners, I do, but
because he's taking the time to make something
himself that means more than anything. I join
him at his place, and the smell is heavenly.
Cheese and tomato sauce fill the air, rich and
warm. He's made lasagna with vegetables, and
even thrown in fried chicken. How he managed
to do all this after mowing my yard a few hours
ago is a mystery. This man is something else.
The table is already set, two candles flickering
between us, a small bouquet of flowers in the
center. He serves my plate, the food steaming
and perfect. Before we dig in, he looks at me
and smiles. I just want to say thank you. he
says softly, for being here, for being in my
life. And then Keisha's words echo in my mind,
how she said he's been obsessed with me from
the beginning. I don't know if that's a good
thing or a bad one, but somehow this man has
made sure I've found my way into his life. The
food tastes so good that I go back for seconds.
Brandon laughs at my greediness, but he has no
idea what he's just done. If we ever become a
couple, he's definitely doing all the cooking.
You know, you've just done yourself an injustice,
I say, smiling. Really? How's that? Well, you
just proved you can cook, which means I don't
have to anymore. He bursts out laughing. I'll
cook any day for you as long as it puts a smile
on your face. I smile up at him, trying to hide
the blush that creeps across my cheeks. Inside,
I'm cheesing like a teenager. This feels so innocent,
so new. I stand to help him clear the plates,
but he waves me off, insisting he's got it covered.
When he's done washing the dishes, he dries his
hands on a towel and sets it aside. Are you up
for a walk? A walk? Yeah, around the block, just
to walk off the food. Take in the moonlight.
I grin. pushing my chair back. Definitely. We've
been walking for 30 minutes now, and everything
feels calm, quiet. The night sky glows, stars
scattered in their full glory, and the moon is
bright, almost silver. I can't stop staring at
how beautiful it all looks. Maybe we should start
heading back. Three minutes into our return,
Brandon points up at the sky. Damn. It's about
to rain. I glance up, startled. Where did that
even come from? We quicken our pace, just in
case. But within seconds, the drizzle starts.
Light and teasing at first, then steadier. Shit,
my hair. I grumble under my breath. We're barely
five minutes from home and the rain picks up.
Well, if we run for it, we might make it. We
can try. We start to jog. But the drizzle turns
into a downpour, soaking us from head to toe.
Brandon slips off his jacket and tries to cover
me, but it's too heavy, too wet to help. By the
time we reach his porch, we're both drenched,
water dripping from our hair and clothes. I didn't
think the rain would come this hard. Brandon
pulls me inside. He swerves toward the bathroom
and grabs a fresh white towel. With gentle care,
he pats my face dry. then moves to my hair. His
shirt clings to his body, drenched, and every
ridge of muscle shows through. I swallow as he
pats me down. You're wet too, I murmur. That's
nothing. He turns and pulls out a blow dryer,
plugging it in. I stand before the vanity mirror
while he stands behind me, guiding the warm air
through my braids. They're soaked, and I know
it will take forever to dry. But he's patient.
The dryer hums softly between us. I stare at
him through the mirror, and he stares back, his
hand frozen midair. All I can think about is
kissing this man. I turn around and place my
palms against his wet chest. You're going to
catch a cold. My fingers move to his top button.
I know where this can lead, but right now I don't
care. It has been so long since I've felt this
kind of closeness, since Eric. Brandon sets the
dryer aside and helps me unbutton his shirt.
His skin is warm beneath my fingers, his body
hard and impossibly tempting. Our clothes cling
to us, heavy with rain, but nothing else matters.
When his shirt falls away, he pulls me in and
kisses me deeply, sweetly. with an urgency that
steals my breath. And I kiss him back. Brandon's
tongue is down my throat, and I suck in every
bit of him. There's no holding back. There's
no shyness to it. We are careless. He lifts me
onto the sink, reaching for the button on my
dress. I try to help him, but I'm too slow. So
he rips it away, revealing my crimson -red bra.
He kisses my neck, comes down to my chest. I
hold the back of his head as his lips trace the
smooth skin of my breast. And then he pulls away.
Do you want this? I nod at him, my voice low.
But it's been a while since I... It's fine. He
presses his lips against mine, kissing me again.
I've only been with Eric. I don't even know how
it feels to be with another man, because Eric
was my first and only. But now, he's going to
be my second. Brandon zips his pants down in
eagerness and slides his thumb over the tip of
his cock. His breath is jagged as he eyes me
with a dangerous fire in his eyes. I want to
say it's lust, but it's more than that. He's
like an animal preparing to claim its mate, a
wolf, a vampire. Mm. Throwing my head back to
feel his length. He exhales, his voice unsteady.
Fuck. You're so good. So tight. I moan over his
kisses. His body jerks against me. Shit. No.
I hold onto his waist, pulling him deeper inside
me. But something's wrong. Fuck. And before I
know it, he is pulsing inside me. He stares at
me in awe, and I stare back at him. Did you just—
He pulls out and draws a palm down his face.
Fuck. I— This is not me. I swear to God. I pull
him towards me, cupping his cheeks. It's okay.
No, it's not. I cummed in less than a minute.
That's embarrassing. It's not. You're just excited,
aren't you? He nods at me. I feel like a schoolboy.
It's totally fine. I kiss him, and he kisses
me back. But I can still feel him worrying, ashamed
of what just took place. Brandon takes a step
away from me, pinching his lips. He eyes me in
that greedy, hungry way, and I smile at him.
I want to make it up to you for what I just did.
Really? I eye him playfully. His gaze drifts
down to where my legs are splayed in front of
him on the sink. Then he steps forward and leans
into my ear. I want to taste you. I want to make
you come. I want to show you exactly how I feel
about you. I stifle a genuine smile. His dark,
naughty words are tingling every fiber of my
being. Then show me what you can do. I challenge.
I lift the hem of my dress, pulling it up to
my waist. My breasts are exposed and the dress
is gathered around my hips. But just when I think
he's going to take me here, he guides me off
the sink and walks me to the living room. I sit
on the single couch. It's a good thing I shaved
before I came over here. Somehow I knew what
was going to happen and I'm glad I took the initiative.
kneeling in front of me. I do as he says. He
pulls me to the edge of the recliner and leans
in, sinking his face between my thighs. My stomach
dips at the wet, warm pressure of his tongue
against my clit. I exhale as he begins to suck
on me. If anyone were to walk in on us at this
very moment, they'd never want to talk to us
again. Brandon has me splayed like an open sacrifice.
I look so vulnerable. Fuck. Shit. Instead, he
grabs hold of my thighs, spreading me wider.
His mouth covers my entire clit. My body shakes
like a seizure and I press him further into me.
I yelp, feeling that final, incredible explosion.
And just when I have lost all sense and sensibility,
he releases me with a dangerous smirk. I exhale,
exasperated. He eyes me. I will never stop wanting
to do that. Because your response to this is
exactly what I'll live for." And in that moment,
I realize this man isn't playing any games. He
knows what he wants. And what he wants is me.
Good boy be damned. But as I lay there afterward,
catching my breath, I realize something. For
the first time since Eric died, I'm not drowning
in grief. I'm alive in it. And maybe that's what
moving on really feels like. I'm glad I found
that letter. I'm glad Eric was my husband. Because
without him, I didn't know what love was. And
now that I know, I expect nothing less. You have
met the end of The Widow, Part 3. This is the
final installment. In another note, this is the
last episode of Season 3. Don't forget to subscribe
to Kamiya's Closet for updates and more. See
ya! Bye!