Anthony going to tell Shayla to move back in with her mom, because the lease is up!😂🤣🤣

 Anthony going to tell Shayla to move back in with her mom, because the lease is up!😂🤣🤣

It was a Tuesday evening, the kind that hung heavy with humidity and hard truths. The cicadas were singing louder than ever, like they knew something was about to go down. The porch light outside flickered, and inside that little two-bedroom off Highway 12, Anthony sat at the kitchen table, turning a folded piece of paper over and over in his hand — the lease termination notice.

He didn’t want it to come to this. Lord knows he tried. But sometimes trying ain’t enough when the bills don’t care how much love used to live between two people.

Shayla was in the back room, probably scrolling her phone or fixing her hair for no reason. She always did that when something was weighing on her heart. And Anthony? He was rehearsing the words he didn’t wanna say but had to.

“Shayla…” he started, just barely louder than a whisper. His voice sounded foreign to him, like it didn’t belong in his own mouth.

She poked her head around the corner, eyebrow raised, suspicious already. “Yeah?”

He stood up slow, like the words were too heavy to carry sitting down. He looked her in the eye, the same eyes he used to get lost in, back when they were still dreaming big together.

“The lease is done,” he said, holding up the paper. “They ain’t renewing. Rent’s going up, and they said we gotta be out by the first.”

She stared at him for a second, then looked at the paper like it had personally betrayed her.

“What you mean, they ain't renewing? We paid on time.”

Anthony nodded. “We did. But the owners wanna remodel, turn it into one of them Airbnb deals. I called ‘em. They ain’t budging.”

Shayla folded her arms. Her jaw tightened, the way it always did right before a fight. “So what now?”

And this was the part Anthony had been dreading.

“I think… I think it’s best if you move back in with your mama, just ‘til we figure things out.”

The silence that followed? Felt like thunder without the storm. Shayla blinked, slow, like she didn’t understand English all of a sudden.

“So you just gon’ send me back to my mama like I’m some little girl who don’t know how to handle life?”

Anthony stepped forward, tried to reach for her hand, but she pulled back. His chest ached at that.

“It ain’t like that,” he said. “You know your mama’ll take you in. It’s just temporary. I’m tryna get on my feet, maybe pick up extra shifts. I can’t have both of us stuck, Shayla. I gotta make moves.”

Her eyes welled up, but no tears fell. Not yet.

“We was supposed to do this together, Anthony. Ride the waves together. Now you talkin’ like it’s just you out here.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sometimes loving somebody means making the hard choice. I’d rather send you somewhere safe than have us both sleeping in a car.”

Shayla looked down, then out the window — the one where she once imagined a garden, a little dog, a baby’s swing someday.

“I didn’t think it’d end like this.”

Anthony walked over, pressed a kiss to her forehead. It lingered, like goodbye.

“It ain’t the end. It’s just… a pause. Maybe we’ll write a better chapter down the line.”

She nodded, but her heart was already packing its bags.

By the weekend, Shayla was gone, back at her mama’s house with the lace curtains and gospel music playing on the radio. Anthony stayed behind, just long enough to lock the door one last time.

The house was empty. So was his chest.

But out here in the country, even sad endings echo with hope. And maybe one day, when the world feels right again, Shayla’ll be back — not just in the house, but in his arms too.