Chapter 13 - Maya’s Version
Maya Greene refused to discuss Darius by text.
They met at a coffee shop across town.
Renee waited outside at Nia’s request.
Maya arrived wearing a red scarf.
For one strange second, Nia saw the woman from the engagement photograph.
Then Maya smiled sadly.
“You look exactly like your pictures.”
Nia stiffened.
“You’ve seen pictures of me?”
“Years ago.”
“From Darius?”
“Public posts.”
They sat.
Maya did not touch her coffee.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For not telling you.”
Nia’s jaw tightened.
“You came to our engagement party.”
“I did.”
“You told Darius I deserved to know.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me yourself?”
Maya looked toward the window.
“Because he begged me not to.”
“That worked?”
“No.”
Maya reached into her purse.
“I was going to tell you.”
She placed a folded photocopy on the table.
An old letter.
Addressed to Nia.
“I wrote this after the engagement party.”
Nia read the first line.
My name is Maya Greene. I was in a relationship with Darius before you.
Further down:
Darius is living with HIV. He told me after his diagnosis. I am not writing this because I believe his diagnosis makes him unsafe or unworthy of love. I am writing because I believe you have a right to know before marriage.
Nia looked up.
“What happened?”
“I mailed it.”
Nia’s chest tightened.
“To where?”
“Your apartment.”
The apartment Nia and Darius had shared during their engagement.
“I never saw it.”
“I know.”
“How?”
Maya slid another paper forward.
A screenshot of an old text conversation.
MAYA: I mailed the letter.
DARIUS: I got it before she did.
Nia stared.
He had not merely failed to tell her.
He had intercepted someone else’s attempt.
The distinction was enormous.
“What did he say after that?”
Maya’s voice was quiet.
“He told me if I contacted you again, he would tell people I was obsessed with him.”
Nia looked up.
“He threatened you.”
“Yes.”
“Did you believe him?”
“I knew people would believe a man protecting his fiancée over an ex-girlfriend appearing before the wedding.”
Maya finally picked up her coffee.
Her hand trembled slightly.
“I was twenty-eight. I was angry. I also felt ashamed because I didn’t want anyone thinking I was trying to destroy a wedding over his status.”
Nia understood.
The stigma Darius feared had also helped him hide.
“Did you ever ask him for money?”
“No.”
“Did he ever pay you?”
“No.”
“Did you know about his mother?”
“Yes.”
“Gloria tried to get him to disclose.”
“I spoke to her once.”
Nia went still.
“When?”
“After I sent the letter.”
“What did she say?”
“She apologized.”
“For Darius?”
“For herself.”
Maya looked at Nia.
“She said she should tell you. I told her she should.”
“But she didn’t.”
“No.”
Nia folded the letter.
“How long were you with Darius?”
“Three years.”
“Did he lie to you often?”
Maya thought.
“Not in the beginning.”
“What changed?”
“His diagnosis.”
Nia braced.
Maya quickly added, “Not because of HIV itself. Because he became convinced that if people had complete information, they would leave.”
Nia stared at her.
“He started managing what everyone knew.”
Exactly.
“He told half-truths to his family. Changed pharmacies. Hid appointments from coworkers. He became good at compartmentalizing.”
“Did he ever go to therapy?”
“For a few months.”
“Then?”
“He stopped.”
Maya looked down.
“I left because after he was diagnosed, he waited weeks to tell me even though we were still intimate.”
Nia felt her stomach drop.
“He did this before.”
“Yes.”
“Were you infected?”
“No.”
Maya’s tone remained steady.
“I tested repeatedly. I remained negative.”
“And you left.”
“I left because I realized his instinct under fear was secrecy.”
Nia closed her eyes.
Darius had framed Maya’s departure as trauma that caused his silence with Nia.
He had omitted the crucial detail.
His secrecy had helped cause Maya’s departure.
He had converted a consequence into a justification.
Nia almost admired the psychological efficiency.
Almost.
“Do you hate him?” she asked.
Maya considered.
“No.”
“Why?”
“I did for years.”
She looked at Nia.
“Then I realized hate kept me connected.”
Nia folded the letter again.
“Did he love you?”
“Yes.”
“And still did this.”
“Yes.”
“Did he love me?”
Maya’s eyes softened.
“That’s not a question I can answer.”
Nia looked out the window.
“No. I think it is.”
She turned back.
“He probably did.”
Maya nodded.
“That may be the hardest version.”
Outside, Renee stood when Nia emerged.
“Well?”
Nia gave her the letter.
Renee read the text screenshot.
Her jaw tightened.
“He intercepted mail.”
“Yes.”
“That changes the pattern.”
“Yes.”
Nia looked back through the café window.
Maya had already left her table.
“Darius has spent eight years telling himself he failed to confess.”
Renee folded the documents.
“But?”
“He didn’t only fail.”
Nia’s voice was cold.
“He actively stopped the truth from reaching me.”
That evening, Nia’s attorney called.
“We received Darius’s preliminary financial disclosures.”
“And?”
“There’s a problem.”
Nia closed her eyes.
“What now?”
“The LLC owns something.”
“What?”
“A small property.”
Nia opened her eyes.
“Darius told me he owned no property.”
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Alisha paused.
“Then Darius lied again.”
