When Wayne’s homie Iman tries to holla at Shayla!

Wayne had always kept his circle tight—just a few real ones from back in the day. Iman was one of them. They’d hooped together since middle school, rode through the same struggles, and stood shoulder to shoulder in all kinds of beef. Loyalty ran deep. At least, Wayne thought it did.

Then came Shayla.

Shayla wasn’t just beautiful—she had that presence. The type to silence a room without trying. Wayne met her at an art show, and within weeks, she was his girl. He brought her around the crew cautiously, not because he didn’t trust her, but because he knew how some dudes moved when envy crept in under the skin.

Iman was all jokes at first.

“Damn, Wayne, you finally pulled one with taste,” he’d said, grinning, eyes dancing a little too long over Shayla’s figure.

Wayne clocked it but let it slide. He told himself, That’s just Iman being Iman. But over the next few weeks, things started to feel…off.

Text messages from Iman at weird times:
"Yo, what you and Shayla up to?"
"Shayla said she was going to that poetry lounge tonight—you rollin’?"

Wayne wasn’t paranoid, but he wasn’t stupid either.

Then came the night that sealed it.

Wayne was running late to a function Shayla was hosting—a pop-up for her new jewelry line. He finally got there, tense from traffic, and walked into the dim-lit venue, scanning for her. He found her near the back, arms crossed, clearly uncomfortable.

And who was standing just a little too close?

Iman.

Wayne watched for a moment before approaching—saw the way Iman leaned in, saw Shayla pull back. She wasn’t smiling. She looked annoyed.

Wayne stepped up. “Everything cool here?”

Iman’s smile faltered, but he played it off. “Yo, just congratulating her. Chill.”

Shayla cut her eyes at Iman and spoke up. “He’s been weird. Asked if I wanted to ‘hang out without all the extra attention’… whatever that means.”

Wayne turned to Iman, the years of friendship weighing heavy on his chest. “You serious, bro?”

Iman scoffed, tried to laugh it off. “Man, I was joking.”

But Wayne wasn’t smiling. “Nah, you weren’t. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

There was a silence. Heavy. Iman looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t. Wayne shook his head, heart sinking—not out of jealousy, but disappointment.

“You can’t call it loyalty if you’re looking at what’s mine.”

That was the last time Iman came around.