Stranger In My House - Part 11
Themes: Jealousy, Reconciliation, Control, Family, Tension, Growth, Vulnerability, Intimacy.
Roman being back home felt like everything was back on track, like the whole house finally clicked back into its rhythm.
The twins made it to school on time, hair combed, backpacks packed, and breakfast in their stomachs. Leati stuck to Roman like glue, as if they were best friends. Roman took him everywhere after the morning drop-off, letting him ride up front sometimes, talking to him like he was grown, and showing him off like a little shadow that never left his side. By afternoon they were back home together, cutting up in the kitchen. Roman even cooked dinner with Leati “helping,” stirring, tasting, and giggling like it was their new tradition.
From time to time, Janelle watched it all from a distance. She didn’t interrupt. She didn’t complain. She just observed, letting herself breathe for the first time in a long time. Roman was home. The kids were smiling. The air felt lighter. For a moment, she let herself believe peace was possible again.
But that same calm felt too perfect, like the quiet right before something shifts.
Janelle had been living out of cafés and boutiques lately, anywhere but the house, soaking up quiet that didn’t belong to anyone else.
She sat by the window with an iced latte sweating against the glass, mind drifting through the options like a menu. Finish the salon and make it everything she ever wanted? Become a stay-at-home mom now that Roman was back? Take a solo trip and remember who she was before she became “Mom” and “wife”? Learn pottery. Something with her hands that didn’t require fixing anyone.
Her phone buzzed and yanked her out of it.
RORO😏 lit up across her screen.
“Baby, why aren’t you at the salon? The contractors are there, ready for whatever you need.”
“I was there. I checked the progress and left.”
Roman’s voice sharpened into that protective, possessive tone he wore like armor.
“Babe, this is your dream. You should be there every day, hands-on. Not sitting in some café.”
Janelle stared at the street like it could answer for her.
“First, stop sending security to watch me. Second, my office isn’t even finished. Third, everything takes time.”
“I’m sorry, babe,” Roman said, the edge fading. “I’ll see you when you get home.”
Janelle ended the call. She didn’t have time for his moods today.
Janelle was almost home when she remembered the one thing she promised herself she wouldn’t forget: groceries.
She swung into Sprouts on autopilot, already building the list in her head like she always did.
Leati needed berries and yogurt pouches. Luna was into overnight oats lately. Leo—twelve going on grown—lived off protein bars and anything he could eat between practices. Roman liked those prepped power bowls. And for Janelle? Seafood for a boil, and a bottle of wine—something to take the edge off.
By the time she turned onto their long, stone-lined driveway, the sun was sliding low and her arms were full. Four bags. Keys between her fingers. One deep breath.
Headlights washed over her back.
She paused and looked over her shoulder as a truck rolled in behind her.
While Roman was gone, Ross had checked in on her and the kids—always respectful, always at a distance. Not the kind of attention that felt hungry. The kind that felt… concerned.
“Hey,” he called, climbing out. “Long time no see.”
“Yeah,” Janelle said, shifting the bags higher on her arm. “Everything okay?”
“I was in the area. Figured I’d stop by, make sure you didn’t need anything.”
“We’re good,” she said quickly, polite but firm. “Thank you, though.”
Ross nodded like he understood.
Then the front door opened.
Roman stepped out onto the porch, shoulders tight, eyes already locked.
“The fuck you doing on my property?”
Ross lifted both hands, calm. “Roman. Good to see you. I was just checking on Janelle and the kids.”
“You don’t need to check shit,” Roman snapped. “Keep it moving.”
That look—she knew it. She’d seen it years ago, back when Roman’s temper had teeth.
Ross took a slow step toward his truck, choosing peace.
Roman’s voice followed him anyway.
“You fuck my wife, Ross?”
The bags slipped from Janelle’s hands and thudded onto the stone.
“What the fuck, Roman?” she barked. “Are you insane?”
She didn’t wait for an answer.
She stormed toward the house, leaving Roman in the driveway with his jealousy and Ross with his silence—because what the hell kind of question was that?
Janelle stepped inside and slid straight into her evening rhythm, because the kids did not deserve to feel the storm she brought in from the driveway. She checked backpacks and homework, signed whatever needed signing, and made sure Leo and Luna were settled. Leati trailed behind her in sock feet, chattering, trying to show her something in the way three-year-olds do, like every moment is urgent.
Roman resurfaced and she moved around him like he was furniture.
By six, the house smelled like chili. Cornbread. White rice. Roman called everybody to the table and sat at the head like nothing had happened, hands already coming together to bless the food.
Roman’s jaw flexed. He forced his voice to soften anyway. “Go ’head and eat, babies. I’m sorry.”
By nine, he was upstairs, hot about it. Janelle was still in the shower, letting the water run like it could rinse the day off her skin. When he tried to speak, to touch, to offer any small peace, she gave him nothing. She did not turn. She did not answer.
She went to bed thinking, *What the hell is wrong with Roman?*
And Roman, home again but still restless, barely slept. Every night it was the same routine: dinner, kids in bed, a shower, then him alone with a bottle of Hennessy—wide awake, staring into the dark like it was staring back.
The next morning, Roman and Janelle got up for the day, but the tension from the night before still lived between them. They moved through the same routine, but not together. Not on the same page.
Roman loaded up the car and took the twins to school. He brought Leati along with him after drop-off, promising a quick visit with his parents and family. Leati loved being in the passenger seat like a “big boy,” even if his feet couldn’t reach the floor.
Janelle left not long after. She headed to the salon, because her phone had lit up with a message she’d been waiting on for weeks: the paint, fixtures, and décor had finally arrived. When she pulled up, the place looked alive. Workers moved around with purpose, ladders and boxes everywhere, and for a few minutes she got to watch her dream turn real.
Roman and Leati made it back home in the early afternoon. Leati begged for a snack, but his heavy eyes said nap. Roman set him on the kitchen counter anyway and tore open a pouch while Leati swung his legs, humming to himself.
The back door opened and Leo walked in.
“Leo, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at school.”
Leo shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Dad, relax. Mom picked me up.”
Roman frowned. “For what?”
“All I know is she got me and Luna, dropped me off, and then her and Luna went somewhere.”
Roman sucked his teeth. “She could’ve told me something. Damn.”
“Just call her,” Leo said.
“She ain’t talking to me right now.”
Leo looked at him, curious. “What happened?”
Roman hesitated. “While I was gone… that detective came by?”
“Yeah,” Leo said. “He was cool, though. Never came inside.”
The confirmation still hit Roman like a bruise. He couldn’t stop his mouth from going where his jealousy wanted it to.
“I accused him and your mom of…”
Leo’s face twisted. “Ew, Dad. Why would you even say that?”
Roman didn’t have an answer that didn’t make him look worse.
Leo shook his head, then softened. “Just… do something nice. Set up a date tonight before she gets home. Tell her you love her.”
Roman side-eyed him. “Boy, you been watching Oprah?”
Leo laughed. “Nah. But I’ll help with Leati tonight. You and Mom go have fun. Get her a spa pass or something.”
Roman stood there for a second, surprised by the wisdom coming out of his kid. Then he nodded, pulled out his phone, and started making calls.
Janelle was at the salon when the school called.
“Mrs. Reigns, we need you to pick Luna up early.”
Janelle’s heart dropped before she even heard the rest.
Luna had gotten into a fight. Three-day suspension. New school year and already this.
The principal asked Janelle to take Luna home for the day, and Janelle decided she might as well grab Leo too. If one kid was hurting, the whole house was about to feel it.
She picked them up, dropped Leo at home, and took Luna to a small café where the noise was low and nobody knew them. Janelle ordered tea. Luna asked for ice water and stared at it like it was the only safe thing in the room.
They sat in silence until Janelle couldn’t take it anymore.
“Luna. Cut it out. What’s going on? It’s just you and me. Mother and daughter.”
Luna’s voice came out small. “You’re gonna tell Dad. You tell him everything.”
“I’m married to him,” Janelle said gently. “And he’s your father. Yes, we communicate. But I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what happened.”
Luna blinked fast, fighting tears.
“In the locker room,” she whispered. “We were changing for gym. And this girl… I thought she was my friend… she said I was dirty. In front of everybody. Because something red was… on my leg.”
Her breath hitched. “I got scared. I got mad. I hit her.”
Janelle froze for half a second, then her face softened as everything clicked into place.
“Baby…” she breathed. “You got your period.”
Luna’s eyes welled. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know what was happening.”
Janelle reached across the table and took both her hands. “It’s okay. You are not dirty. You’re not wrong. Your body is just changing, and it’s supposed to. We’re going to talk about it, and I’m going to be here every step of the way.”
Luna finally let the tears fall.
“Thank you, Mom,” she whispered.
Janelle spent the rest of the afternoon with her, buying the essentials, explaining what she wished someone had explained to her, and holding her girl steady through the embarrassment and the fear.
Then she drove home, already rehearsing how she was going to tell Roman, and already praying he wouldn’t make it harder than it had to be.
Janelle opened the double front doors and barely got one foot inside before Leati came flying at her in his little socks.
“Mommy!” he squealed, arms stretched wide.
“There’s my baby,” Janelle said, dropping her bags just long enough to scoop him up. She kissed his cheeks until he giggled and tried to squirm away.
“I missed you!” he said, loud and proud.
“I missed you too,” she whispered, holding him tighter for a beat.
Leati wriggled down and ran straight to Luna like she was the next stop on his welcome-home tour.
From the living room, Roman lifted his chin at Leo. *Now.*
He stepped over, took Leati’s hand, and bent toward Janelle. “Ma… just talk to Dad for a second. Like… two minutes.”
Janelle’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you running interference, Leo?”
Leo shrugged, trying for casual, failing. “Because y’all both be mad and then everybody in the house be mad.”
Janelle let out a quiet breath, like she was swallowing a whole attitude.
She bent to kick off her heels.
That was when Roman’s arms slid under her and lifted her clean off the ground like she weighed nothing.
“Roman—put me down,” she snapped, grabbing his shoulders.
“I’m helping,” he said, mouth close to her ear, voice soft on purpose.
He carried her up the stairs anyway, careful and steady. At the top he set her down like she was glass.
“Look,” he said, hands up in surrender. “In our room. There’s a new dress for you. Brand new. Go shower, get cute… and meet me in the backyard.”
He was already halfway down the stairs. “Please, Janelle.”
Janelle stood there a second, annoyed that a part of her wanted to believe him.
Thirty minutes later, clean and dressed, she came downstairs and paused in the kitchen.
The twins and Leati were at the table eating like it was any other night. Leo had Leati’s cup in one hand and a napkin in the other like he’d done it a thousand times.
Luna leaned toward him and whispered, “What’s happening?”
Leo whispered back, “I told Dad to take Mom on a date. Like… a real one. Don’t say nothing.”
Luna’s eyes widened. Then she nodded, all solemn. “Okay.”
Janelle followed the stone path into the backyard and slowed.
String lights were draped across the fence line. A small table sat under them, set with plates, candles, and two glasses. It wasn’t perfect. It was *effort*.
Roman stepped forward and pulled out her chair.
“You look… you look amazing,” he said, and for once it didn’t sound like a line. “I knew that dress would fit you.”
Janelle sat, but her face stayed hard. “Roman, you got five minutes. What do you want?”
He swallowed. “I want my wife back.”
Janelle’s laugh was quick and sharp. “You been home five minutes, Roman, and already had me embarrassed in my own driveway.”
“I know,” he said. “I know I messed up.”
He sat across from her and leaned in, elbows on the table like he was afraid she’d get up and walk away.
“I been… living with regrets,” he admitted. “Being gone did something to me. I keep thinking about all the moments I missed. All the stuff I can’t get back. And when I see you moving like you don’t need me…” He shook his head. “It makes me act stupid.”
“That’s not an excuse,” Janelle said, quieter now.
“I’m not trying to excuse it.” Roman’s eyes held hers. “I’m trying to change it.”
Janelle studied him, the way someone studies a crack in glass—wondering if it’s spreading.
“Then start with accountability,” she said. “No more ‘security’ following me. No more acting like every man is a threat. And no more talking to me like I’m one of your employees.”
Roman nodded fast. “You’re right. All of it.”
A silence settled—less sharp, more tired.
Janelle exhaled. “I accept your apology,” she said. “But I’m still mad. I’m still hurt. And you’re not gonna fix that with candles and a dress.”
“I know,” Roman said. “But I wanted to start somewhere.”
They ate for a few minutes. Not romantic. Not easy. But not war.
Halfway through, Janelle set her fork down.
“And I need to tell you something,” she said.
Roman’s posture changed instantly, alert. “What? What happened?”
“It’s Luna.” Janelle’s voice softened. “She got suspended today.”
Roman’s jaw clenched. “For what?”
“For fighting,” Janelle said quickly, holding up a hand before he could explode. “And before you start… you need to listen. She didn’t just ‘fight.’ She panicked. She got embarrassed. She got hurt.”
Roman stared. “Embarrassed how?”
Janelle looked down at her plate, then back up, choosing her words.
“She started her period,” Janelle said. “At school. In gym. And a girl said something nasty in the locker room. Luna didn’t know what was happening to her body. She thought something was wrong.”
Roman blinked, caught between anger and helplessness. “Damn.”
“She needs us,” Janelle continued. “Not your temper. Not your ‘handle it.’ She needs support. She needs calm. She needs both of her parents acting like grown people.”
Roman’s face tightened with regret. “I… I didn’t even think about that,” he admitted.
“You don’t have to ‘think’ about it,” Janelle said. “You just have to show up the right way.”
Roman nodded slowly. “Okay. Tell me what to do.”
“First, you don’t embarrass her,” Janelle said. “You don’t yell. You don’t make jokes. You tell her you love her and you’re proud of her. And you tell her she can come to you if she needs anything.”
Roman’s throat bobbed. “I can do that.”
“And Leo,” Janelle added, “He’s acting older than he is because the house is heavy. Don’t put him in the middle of us. He shouldn’t have to be the peacekeeper.”
Roman’s eyes flicked toward the kitchen window, like he could see the kids through it. “You’re right,” he said, voice low. “That’s on me too.”
He reached under the table and pulled out a manila folder.
“What’s that?” Janelle asked.
Roman slid it across to her. “A gift. Or… an apology gift. I don’t know what to call it.”
Janelle opened it and saw paperwork stapled neatly together.
Licensing forms. Permit applications. A business plan outline with Roman’s messy notes in the margins.
Janelle’s eyebrows lifted. “Roman… what is this?”
“A spa,” he said. “I bought the building next to the salon. Same strip. It was on the market and I—”
“You bought a spa?” she repeated, stunned.
“I bought *you* a spa,” Roman said, like that made it better.
Janelle set the folder down slowly. “Roman, you just told me to be hands-on with my dream. To be there every day.”
“So why are you buying me a whole other dream?”
Roman’s eyes flashed, that familiar storm threatening to rise. “Because I’m trying to set you up. Because I’m trying to give you everything.”
“That’s not what I asked for,” Janelle said, holding his gaze. “I asked you to be present and understanding.”
Roman’s jaw worked, like he wanted to argue. Like he wanted to control.
Then he dragged in a breath and forced it out.
“Okay,” he said. One word. Tight. But it didn’t explode.
Janelle stood, pushing her chair in. “I’m tired,” she said. “And I’m not doing the mood swing thing tonight.”
Roman’s voice dropped. “Janelle—don’t leave like that.”
“I’m not leaving,” she said, turning back. “I’m going inside. With our kids. Because I’m still their safe place even when you act like this.”
She went in, made sure Leo and Luna were settled, and checked on Leati twice because he always kicked his blanket off in his sleep.
When she finally stepped into the shower, the water hit her shoulders like a reset.
Minutes later, the bathroom door opened.
Roman didn’t speak at first. He just stood there, quiet in a way that made the air change.
“I remember that night in Atlanta,” he said finally. “When we didn’t have nothing but a one-bedroom and a promise. You was mad at me then too.”
Janelle kept her face turned to the tile. “Don’t.”
“I’m serious,” Roman said, voice rough. “You was in the shower, and I was outside the curtain talking like I had sense, trying to get you to laugh. And you did. You tried not to, but you did.”
Janelle’s throat tightened. The memory landed before she could stop it.
Roman continued softly, “I miss you, Janelle. Not just… the house running smooth. I miss you.”
The water kept running, but the fight inside her slowed.
She turned her head just enough to look at him.
Roman’s eyes met hers, steady. No barking. No jealousy. Just him.
“I don’t know how to do this right,” he said. “But I’m trying.”
Janelle’s voice came out small. “Trying don’t mean you get to hurt me.”
“I know,” Roman whispered. “I’m sorry.”
The space between them filled with something fragile.
And for the first time in a long time, they let the night end without war.
They left their shared bathroom in silence, the kind that wasn’t cold—just careful. Janelle’s robe clung to her damp skin as she crossed the wide hall, the recessed lights throwing a soft glow over the too-quiet house.
In the bedroom, she sat at the edge of the bed, breathing slow, letting the steam and the day fall off her in layers.
Roman hovered in the doorway like a man waiting to be invited into his own life.
Janelle lifted her eyes to him—one look that didn’t ask for an explanation. It asked for control. For patience.
Roman crossed the room in measured steps and stopped close enough that her knees brushed his thighs when he sat. He didn’t touch her right away. He let the moment stretch until it ached.
He lifted his hand like an offering, palm up.
Janelle threaded her fingers through his, and that small permission turned the air thick.
Roman leaned in until his forehead met hers, his breath warm against her mouth. He kissed her like he’d been starving, then pulled back—just a fraction—making her chase him.
Janelle caught his jaw in her hand, thumb sweeping over the corner of his mouth, and she kissed him again—slower this time, deeper. Roman’s other hand found her waist, steady and firm, anchoring her while his mouth learned her like a promise.
He rose and guided her up with him, hands gentle but sure. When he loosened the belt of her robe, he didn’t rip it away; he eased it open, waiting for her to let it happen. The fabric slid from her shoulders, pooling at her feet.
Roman’s gaze moved over her—slow, reverent—like he was memorizing the parts of her the world never got to see. His hand traced the line of her hip, then higher, pausing when her breath hitched, listening to her body the way he should’ve been listening all along.
Janelle pulled him closer by his shirt, the quiet in the room breaking into soft sounds—breaths, a low hum in her throat, the bed shifting under their weight.
Roman lifted her onto the mattress with care, like she was something precious, and followed—covering her without crowding her, mouth finding her neck, then her shoulder, then the place under her ear that always made her knees go weak. He took his time, moving with a restraint that felt like worship.
Janelle arched into him, nails skimming his back, keeping him close when she wanted him and pushing him back an inch when she needed the slow burn—because tonight wasn’t about proving anything.
They lay tangled together, skin warm, breathing synced—her leg draped over him, his hand resting on her thigh like he couldn’t stand to let go. Roman traced lazy lines along her shoulder, then down her arm, thumb circling her wrist like a quiet claim.
Janelle settled her cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat under her palm until it steadied her. The house stayed silent around them, but in their bed, the quiet finally felt like relief.
For the first time in a long time, she fell asleep with Roman holding her—he finally felt like he could get some sleep at night.
