He made me the happiest I’d ever been. To go from crying and fretting over a nigga that was too busy doing him to think about me, to having a man that didn’t play about me in any capacity was a blessing. My connection to this man was the most natural thing I’d ever experienced. I wasn’t forced to be or act like anyone other than myself. My identity wasn’t wrapped up in his career, and neither was my image. Yet and still, at the end of the day, I was his woman and his wife. He was as loyal to me as I was to him. He saw me for what I brought to the table whether I was in the background or the
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