Last Supper …. Part 1
The restaurant was buzzing just enough to feel alive but not enough to drown out the easy jokes bouncing around the table. Trey was leaned back in his chair for once, relaxed in a way his friends hadn’t seen in a while. Plates clattered, someone cracked a joke about how Khalil still couldn’t cook rice without burning it, and for a second everything felt… normal.
They were midway through swapping updates—jobs, situationships, random drama—when Khalil cleared his throat, way too loudly.
“Yo, speaking of stability…” he said, grinning like he was about to drop a bomb. “Trey got some news he ain’t told everybody yet.”
Everyone turned to Trey, forks in mid-air, eyebrows raised.
Trey tried to play it cool, but you could see that little spark in him—like he’d been waiting to say this. “Alright, alright,” he said, lifting his glass slightly. “Me and Zaire… we’ve been working things out. And honestly? We’re talking about getting married.”
The table exploded.
“Oh nah—Trey you lyin’.”
“Married?! Boy what?”
“Zaire?? Zaire??”
It was loud, chaotic, the good kind of loud—people slapping the table, laughing, shocked, trying to get details out of him. Trey had that half-smirk going, the one you get when something finally feels right and the whole world is giving you permission to enjoy it.
He was mid-sentence explaining how they sorted through all the old mess when Bam walked back from the restroom with a weird look on his face—tight, nervous.
“Trey,” Bam said quietly, leaning down beside him. “Somebody’s here for you… at the door.”
Trey frowned. “Who?”
Bam just shook his head. “Man… bro got blood on his shirt. I ain’t tryna get close enough to ask questions.”
The whole table fell silent in an instant—like someone hit mute.
Trey pushed his chair back and followed Bam toward the entrance. The restaurant lighting shifted on him as he walked, warm to cold, soft to sharp.
And there he was.
Theodore.
Standing in the doorway like he’d dragged a storm in with him. His shirt streaked in dark red. His eyes wide—unblinking, frantic—like something followed him there or something he ran from was waiting outside.
“Trey,” Theodore said, voice cracking around the edges. “I need… I need help.”
And for a moment, nobody breathed.















