Chapter 17 - The Letter
Nia waited until midnight to open Jasmine’s envelope.
She chose February 26.
The paper was torn from a spiral notebook.
Nia,
I did something unforgivable last night.
She almost stopped.
But continued.
Jasmine had written about Malik arriving at her apartment after arguing with Nia about Hawthorne.
He said Nia cared more about becoming “somebody” than about people already in her life.
Jasmine comforted him.
He cried.
They kissed.
Then they slept together.
The letter contained no romantic poetry.
Mostly shame.
But halfway down the second page, Jasmine recorded something Malik had said afterward.
Sometimes I wish she would fail at something big so she would understand she needs people.
Nia read it three times.
Her hands began shaking.
Not because Malik had hated her.
That would have been easier.
He had loved her and resented her simultaneously.
He wanted her brilliance as long as it did not create distance.
He wanted her success if it remained small enough to include him.
She read the rest.
Jasmine had written:
The worst part is a piece of me understood what he meant.
Nia closed her eyes.
There it was.
Their shared resentment.
The true beginning.
Not sex.
Not money.
The wish that Nia would become less so they could feel more.
She opened the next letter.
March 4.
Jasmine described Malik showing her a business plan.
He wanted Nia’s investment.
Jasmine worried Nia would say no.
Malik replied:
Then we make it difficult for her to walk away from everybody.
March 19.
After the business-credit application.
Jasmine wrote:
He said he only used information because Nia would thank him once the gym makes money. I told him that sounded crazy. Then he kissed me and I stopped arguing. I hate writing that sentence because it makes me look weak. Maybe I am weak.
April 2.
Jasmine described finding out Malik had logged into Nia’s Hawthorne portal.
She confronted him.
He claimed he was checking deadlines.
Jasmine wrote:
I knew it was wrong. I also knew telling Nia would mean telling her why I knew.
That line explained months of silence.
One secret protected another.
Then another.
Then another.
By the time Jasmine could have told the truth, doing so required exposing everything.
So she chose deeper lies.
Nia understood the mechanism.
Understanding did not reduce the damage.
At one thirty, Ms. Bennett appeared at the doorway.
“You’re awake.”
“Obviously.”
Her mother sat beside her.
Nia handed over the February letter.
Ms. Bennett read the sentence.
Sometimes I wish she would fail at something big.
Her eyes filled.
“That boy.”
Nia leaned back.
“Do you think I made people feel small?”
Her mother looked at her sharply.
“What?”
“Jasmine thought I did.”
“That is not what the letter says.”
“She felt compared to me.”
“That comparison did not come from you.”
“Maybe sometimes I bragged.”
“You were proud.”
“Maybe too proud.”
Ms. Bennett took her hand.
“Nia, listen carefully.”
Nia looked at her.
“You can examine yourself without adopting responsibility for what other people chose.”
The sentence landed.
Her mother continued.
“If you were insensitive, apologize for insensitivity.”
Nia nodded.
“If you were arrogant, grow.”
Nia swallowed.
“But do not turn another person’s betrayal into proof that you deserved betrayal.”
Nia started crying.
Not violently.
Quietly.
“I miss her.”
“I know.”
“I’m so angry that I miss her.”
“People don’t become strangers in your nervous system as quickly as they become strangers in your life.”
Nia leaned against her mother.
They sat beneath the dim desk lamp.
After a while, Nia asked, “Did you compare us?”
Her mother was silent.
“Me and Jasmine.”
Ms. Bennett exhaled.
“Probably.”
“Mom.”
“I never meant to hurt her.”
“What would you say?”
Ms. Bennett looked ashamed.
“I might say you were more disciplined.”
“More focused?”
“Yes.”
“More responsible?”
“Probably.”
Nia closed her eyes.
“You did.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t make her sleep with Malik.”
“No.”
“But you fed something.”
Her mother’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
That mattered.
Not because Ms. Bennett was responsible for the betrayal.
Because adults could contribute to wounds without causing what people later did with them.
Nia picked up the final letter.
May 28.
One week before graduation.
Jasmine wrote:
I took another pregnancy test today. Negative. I was relieved. Then I realized being relieved means I understand how terrible this has become.
Nia frowned.
Another test.
If Jasmine tested negative May 28 but positive a week later, seven weeks pregnant did not make sense.
She checked the dates.
Maybe the clinic measured gestational age differently.
Still.
Nia opened the next page.
June 2.
I missed my period. Malik says not to panic. He asked whether I’m sure it would be his.
Nia stared.
Her mother noticed.
“What?”
Nia handed her the letter.
Ms. Bennett read.
Then looked up.
“Was Jasmine with anyone else?”
“I don’t know.”
Nia felt sudden fear of another ugly twist.
Then she stopped herself.
No assumptions.
Evidence.
She texted Jasmine.
One question.
Malik asked whether the baby was his. Why?
Jasmine replied two minutes later.
Because he was panicking. There was nobody else.
Then another message.
I can prove that if I ever need to, but I’m not doing a paternity circus for him right now.
Nia exhaled.
The pregnancy was not the mystery.
Malik’s next message in Jasmine’s letter was.
He had written:
If you’re pregnant, maybe this fixes everything.
Nia stared at those words.
How could a pregnancy produced by betrayal “fix” anything?
Then she turned the page.
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Jasmine had written Malik’s explanation beneath it.
Nia won’t leave if she thinks we all need her.
