TANGLED WITH MR BLACKWOOD

The morning light was soft, filtered through sheer curtains like the world was trying not to wake too loudly. Lexi lay on the couch, curled beneath a fleece throw at Maya's place, the warmth of last night's confessions still clinging to the air.

But the laughter had faded. The wine glasses were empty. And the silence that followed felt… different.

She opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling.

Everything was still.

Except her mind.

The moment the stillness touched her skin, the thoughts flooded in—sharp and spiraling.

You're still owing on that wristwatch loan.

She blinked up at the ceiling, guilt knotting in her chest.

The wristwatch. The one you replaced after spilling coffee on Mr. Blackwood—because of course you had to spill coffee on a man who wears timepieces that cost more than your entire student loan debt.

Her fingers gripped the edge of the blanket.

And rent.

Still behind on rent.

Still ducking your landlord's texts.

Still pretending that everything's fine when your life is a patchwork of quick fixes and panic sprints.

Her chest tightened.

She hadn't even called her mother in over a week.

Mom…

Lexi's heart cracked a little deeper.

Her mother—who had sacrificed everything. Who worked double shifts for years at that nursing home in Queens just to keep food on the table and lights on during winter. Who never complained when Lexi cried over rejection emails and freelancing flops.

Mom, who smiled even when her back ached. Who still checked in with "How's work, baby?" even when Lexi forgot her birthday two years ago…

A tear slipped down Lexi's cheek.

She thought about her father — the man who left when Lexi was seven. The man who had started a whole second family in another borough, like they were something he could walk away from without consequence. Like Lexi and her mom were disposable.

She remembered the night she overheard her mother on the phone with him, voice shaking, saying, "Just tell me if you're ever coming back."

He never did.

Her mother never let her see the cracks. But Lexi saw them now. Clear as day.

And suddenly, she felt ashamed.

Ashamed of drifting. Of living in chaos. Of being a grown woman still tangled in disarray, still unable to give back to the only person who had never stopped giving.

She sat up slowly, wiping her face.

No more of this.

No more late bills taped to her fridge.

No more mismatched socks and lost notebooks and scribbles on napkins.

No more.

This version of her — the one who survived off glitter and caffeine and sheer will — she'd done her best.

But it was time to evolve.

I want more. I want to be better. I want to show up.

For myself. For my mom. For the life I keep pretending I'm not terrified of wanting.

By mid-morning, she was up and folding the throw. Maya was still asleep, snoring lightly with her curls a wild halo around her face. Shasha was already lacing up her boots near the door, uniform crisp, apron folded in her tote.

Lexi stood in the doorway for a second, watching her cousin tighten her ponytail in the mirror.

"You're heading out?"

Shasha nodded. "Shift starts in thirty minutes."

They didn't say anything for a second. Just stood in the quiet, warm morning light.

Then Shasha stepped forward and wrapped her in a tight hug. "You good?"

Lexi nodded against her shoulder. "Trying to be."

Shasha leaned back and searched her eyes. "You don't have to have it all figured out. But… start. Just start."

Lexi blinked fast. "I'm going to."

Maya stirred from the couch. "Wait—group hug. I feel excluded."

They all laughed, even as Lexi's throat tightened again. They wrapped each other in one last squeeze — arms tangled, hearts exposed.

"Sisterhood," Maya mumbled, still half-asleep.

"Chaos and curls," Shasha echoed.

Lexi smiled. "And brand new beginnings."

Lexi's Apartment – Above the Bakery

The scent of warm croissants and melted sugar greeted her before she even stepped through the front door. The bakery downstairs was in full swing, and for once, the smell didn't make her feel like she was failing.

Her tiny apartment was exactly how she left it — cluttered, messy, disjointed.

But today, she didn't look at it and see failure.

She saw a blank canvas.

She threw the windows open.

Pulled her hair up.

And got to work.

Sticky notes? Trashed.

Random scribbles? Gone.

Receipts, broken pens, worn-out shoes? All out.

It was cleansing. Exhausting. And somehow… sacred.

She wiped her brow, flopped onto the couch, and exhaled deeply.

Ping!

Her phone buzzed.

Lexi picked it up and blinked.

> Your bonus has been credited — Ava Sinclair

Her jaw dropped slightly. She had completely forgotten.

Eyes wide, she tapped into her account — enough to clear the wristwatch loan. Maybe pay rent. Maybe even… move.

She opened a fresh page in her journal and wrote:

Lexi's New Resolution List

Pay off the wristwatch loan

Catch up on rent

Get a clean, quiet mini apartment

Declutter every room — and my mind

Call Mom. Check in. Show up.

No more chaos. No more hiding.

Be bold. Be calm. Be me.

Just as she finished the last line, her phone rang again.

Mom.

Her heart jumped.

She answered with a shaky voice. "Hi, Mama."

Her mother's voice was soft, tired, but laced with warmth. "Lexi baby. You okay? You've been quiet."

Lexi's voice cracked. "I'm so sorry, Mom."

There was silence for a moment, then her mom sighed. "Don't be sorry. Just be present. That's all I ever wanted."

Lexi blinked back tears. "You always gave everything… and I've been so lost, trying to catch up to something I can't even name."

Her mom chuckled gently. "Then stop chasing. Start becoming. I didn't raise you to stay broken."

"I miss you," Lexi whispered.

"I miss you too, baby."

A pause. Then—

"I made stew. Come home next weekend?"

Lexi smiled through her tears. "I'll be there."

Later That Evening

Before the sun set on Sunday, Lexi stood in front of a boutique mirror holding up a cream silk blouse against her frame.

Her reflection looked back with the softest dare: Let them see you now.

It wasn't vanity. It was clarity. A quiet vow echoing from the morning — that she'd no longer hide behind clutter, behind chaos, behind "almost."

With a modest bonus from Ava and her new resolution list tucked in her phone, she picked up a few classic pieces: tapered trousers, crisp shirts, a blazer that curved at the waist just right, and a fresh pair of nude pumps that screamed quiet luxury.

She was still Lexi.

But now?

She looked like the woman she was becoming.