By: A.Powell
Lashae stood by the floor-to-ceiling window with her arms folded tightly across her chest, staring out at the city lights that blinked endlessly beneath the penthouse. The rain tapped softly against the glass, creating a quiet rhythm that somehow made the silence in the apartment feel even louder.
Domo’s hoodie still sat over the dining chair.
Lashae had tried moving it three different times. Every time, she ended up putting it right back.
Her jaw tightened as she looked down at the streets below. People kept moving. Cars kept driving. Life kept going like nothing happened while her mind stayed trapped in the same place every night.
Did I make the right choice?
Part of her said yes immediately.
Domo had pushed her away for months. The lies, the disappearing acts, the cold responses, the lack of communication — it had drained Lashae completely. Loving Domo had started feeling like begging for attention from someone who barely noticed she was drowning.
But the other part of her…
That part remembered the soft moments.
The late-night laughs in the kitchen.
Domo kissing her forehead when she thought Lashae was asleep.
The way Domo used to grab her hand in public without caring who stared.
The quiet “I’m here” hugs after hard days.
Lashae closed her eyes tightly.
“Damn, Dominique…” she whispered under her breath.
No matter how angry she got, she still thought about her every single day.
She wondered if Domo was eating properly. If she was sleeping okay. If she missed her too, or if Lashae was the only one sitting in an empty apartment replaying memories like a punishment.
Her phone sat face down on the counter behind her.
She had picked it up at least ten times tonight, thinking about texting her.
Come home.
I miss you.
Can we talk?
But her pride stopped her every time.
Because what if Domo still left again?
Lashae exhaled shakily and pressed her forehead lightly against the cool glass.
For the first time in weeks, the anger started fading, leaving nothing behind except hurt.
Lashae stayed by the window long after the rain stopped.
The city looked calmer now, but her mind wasn’t.
Reality had finally started settling into her chest in the worst way possible.
Domo wasn’t coming back.
Not tonight.
Not tomorrow.
Maybe not ever.
That realization hurt more than the arguments did. More than the silence. More than the nights she cried herself to sleep pretending she was angry instead of heartbroken.
Her throat tightened.
For so long, Lashae convinced herself this was temporary. That eventually the door would unlock and Domo would walk in with that guarded expression she always wore whenever she knew she messed up.
“Can we talk?”
That’s what Lashae imagined hearing every night.
But the apartment stayed quiet.
The side of the bed stayed cold.
And Domo’s number stayed buried underneath unanswered messages and pride.
Lashae slowly sat down on the couch, rubbing both hands over her face. She hated how empty the penthouse felt now. It didn’t feel like home anymore. It just felt expensive and lonely.
Her eyes drifted toward the hoodie still hanging over the chair.
A broken laugh escaped her.
“Girl, you not coming back for this damn hoodie?” she whispered to herself.
Silence answered her again.
That was when it finally hit.
Domo had really let her go.
Lashae swallowed hard, tears filling her eyes before she could stop them. She leaned back against the couch cushions and stared at the ceiling, letting herself feel it instead of fighting it for once.
Maybe love wasn’t always enough.
Maybe two people could love each other deeply and still destroy one another in the process.
That thought nearly broke her.
Because despite everything, despite the distance and pain and disappointment… Lashae still loved her.
And that was the problem.
You can’t force somebody to stay just because you love them.
A tear slid down her cheek as she reached for her phone one last time. Her thumb hovered over Domo’s contact for a long moment before she finally locked the screen again and placed it face down on the table.
If Domo wanted to come back, she would.
And if she didn’t…
Lashae would have to survive that too.
Reading the emotionally charged story of Lashae and Domo truly resonates with anyone who has experienced the complexity of love and loss. From personal experience, I've found that relationships—even those filled with genuine love—can falter when communication breaks down and pride stands in the way of reconciliation. The imagery of Lashae staring out at city lights while a hoodie remains untouched speaks volumes about the silent struggles many face after a breakup. This scene reminds me of my own moments of clinging to the tangible reminders of loved ones long gone, unable to move forward even when logically, we know it’s time to let go. What stands out deeply is the delicate balance Lashae feels between anger and hurt. It echoes the internal battles we often fight: wanting to reach out, craving connection, but fearing rejection and more pain. The story highlights a universal truth—sometimes love isn't enough to keep two people together, especially if one or both start to emotionally retreat. Lesbian relationships, like all relationships, come with unique challenges, including the pressure of societal judgment and the need for community support. This story’s inclusion of hashtags like #lesbiancommunity and #lesbianpride underscores how important it is for individuals in the LGBTQ+ community to find spaces where their experiences are understood and validated. In my own journey, embracing vulnerability opened paths toward healing. Lashae's moment of allowing herself to feel the pain rather than suppress it is a crucial step in recovery. It teaches us that surviving heartbreak involves honoring our emotions and giving ourselves grace. Ultimately, the story is a powerful reminder that love can deeply wound, but it can also teach resilience. Whether or not Domo returns, Lashae's choice to wait but also prepare to survive independently is a testament to self-love and personal growth—a lesson I believe many readers can take to heart.