Unfiltered Dialogues
Copyright© 2026 by SilkStories
Chapter 13
Narrative: Nathan Ellis
Kiara: “Heey y’all, welcome back to another episode of Unfiltered Dilogues. Your host, Kiara Washington, is here to serve up all the raw truths and gritty realities only a black sister can deliver.”
I coughed to make my presence known.
Kiara: “Oh yeah, how can I forget, my fiance Nathan is with me y’all.”
She cued some music.
“It’s raining men”
And stopped.
Kiara: “Woops wrong episode, anyhow say hey Nathan”
Nathan: “Hey y’all” I responded, feeling a bit self-conscious.
Kiara: “NO, Nathan, NO, stick to being white please.”
Nathan: “Yes, Baby”
Kiara: “That’s better, Nathan. And let me clarify for everyone listening—my amazing fiancé is joining us today, but don’t get too attached; this isn’t a permanent addition to the show.”
Nathan: “Babe, you didn’t say that to me before, I thought we were in this together.”
Kiara: “Trust, Nathan—it’s rarely what you expect it to be. And don’t call me babe, it doesn’t suit you.”
Nathan: “I am still learning” I nodded in agreement.
Kiara: “So Nathan why don’t you tell everyone why you’re here today trying to steal my thunder.”
Nathan: “Umm, because you love me?”
Kiara: “Cute, but...”
Kiara cued a sound effect.
“NOOO!”
Nathan: “I’m stumped, oh wait is because we’re going to get married in a couple of weeks?”
Kiara: “Well done Nathan. You see people, he’s learning.”
Nathan: “One moment honey, I mean baby”
She gave me a frowned look.
Nathan: “Are you excited?”
Kiara: “Hmm, let me see.”
Nathan: “She’s in deep thought everyone, I’m not sure if I’ve just made a big mistake.”
Kiara: “Look at you speaking to my audience, you’ve come a long way since I let you out of your cage.”
Nathan: “It was a little cramped.”
Kiara laughed, and we continued our playful exchange.
Kiara: “Of course, I’m excited baby, but you cannot claim me until I see a ring on this finger.”
Nathan: “I got you that engagement ring.”
Kiara: “Yeah! But that was on one hand, keep up Nathan. Anyway let’s move on to an uneasy topic, interracial couples, do they work?”
Nathan: “Huh?”
Kiara: “Now Nathan, what do you see when you look at me.”
Nathan: “Uhh, what do you mean?”
Kiara: “Don’t play coy with me now Nathan, answer my question.”
Nathan: “I just see you. The woman I love.”
Kiara: “That is so sweet, but I need more. Do you wish I was white?”
My eyes widened visibly. What is she doing?
Nathan: “No of course not.”
Kiara: “I see, so I’m some kind of black trophy? A fetish?”
She fixed me with an expectant gaze, and I wrestled to discern whether her pointed questions were genuine or merely provocative banter.
Nathan: “If you were, then I would have already won.”
Kiara: “You’re not helping your cause Nathan.”
I swallowed hard and spoke truthfully.
Nathan: “I know you’re black. I know others see you as black too. But when I look at you, only one thought fills my mind.”
Kiara: “Which is?”
Nathan: “That I’m the luckiest man alive to have someone as incredible as you—someone who said yes to building a life together.”
I saw her face light up with a big smile, it obviously worked.
Nathan: “Every single moment I spend with you—from sunrise to sunset—I don’t see color; I just see the extraordinary woman I get to share my life with.”
Kiara wiped away the tears that had begun to well up in her eyes. And with a choked voice.
Kiara: “He’s passed the test everyone, lucky for me I get to keep my ring.”
My laughter came easily, her playful humor never failing to lift my spirits.
Nathan: “And you?”
I asked the same question back.
Kiara: “It’s my show, I don’t have to answer that.”
Nathan: “It goes both ways baby, please?”
Kiara braced herself.
Kiara: “When I look at you Nathan, I see that young man in the cafeteria—the one I kissed, the one I desperately wanted to protect from humiliation.”
Nathan: “Did you feel sorry for me? Did you pity me?”
Kiara: “No, I knew exactly what I wanted—and that was you. We shared everything, and throughout it all, my love for you never faded—not even during those agonizing times.”
My eyes now started welling as I wiped it. Leaning to the mic.
Nathan: “Did you ever wish I was black?”
Her voice low and soft now, my Kiara was speaking.
Kiara: “No, you were perfect!”
Nathan: “So are you my love, in every conceivable way.”
After we finished recording the podcast, Kiara and I embraced tightly. Her voice was warm and tender as she murmured, “I love you baby.” I held her close, responding with quiet conviction, “I love you too, more than anything.”
Narrative: Kiara Washington
The following days at work unfolded smoothly. Nathan and I moved with renewed purpose, our collaboration seamless and inspired. The results spoke for themselves—our projects advanced with remarkable efficiency. Warren took notice, offering a rare compliment that underscored his approval: “You two work exceptionally well together,” he remarked, his tone carrying genuine admiration for how we complemented each other both personally and professionally.
I’d been putting off reading the feedback on our latest podcast, dreading another barrage of hate. But to my surprise, the comments weren’t nearly as brutal as I’d feared. Sure, there were still a few trolls spouting shit—I rolled my eyes at their predictable vitriol—but the majority of listeners had nothing but praise. And the best part? They were falling hard for Nathan; his fan base was growing by leaps and bounds with every episode we dropped.
My eyes misted over as I scrolled through the comments. One listener wrote, “You and Nathan sound perfect for each other girl, love the banter [heart emoji],” while another added, “You should do all your podcasts together, xxx.” Each kind word softened the sting of earlier criticism.
I laughed softly, the words still hanging in the air, as another message read: “Girl! Imma coming for your man!”
I had called my parents earlier and was ready for Nathan to finally meet my fiancé and the father of our child; this would prove interesting.
I remembered the moment my parents discovered my activism—the day they learned I’d organized rallies and marches. They summoned me, and as I sat before them, my mother’s tears fell when she saw a photo of me leading a protest at the forefront.
My parents witnessed the metamorphosis in me firsthand—the way my style, my hair, even my clothing had undergone a dramatic overhaul. And beneath those outward changes ran a shift far deeper: my attitude. I held fast to our cause during our confrontation, insisting they ought to celebrate the passion driving me forward rather than fearing for my wellbeing.
I had judged my parents for sheltering me from the harsh realities of the world. Then my father cut in sharply, his voice edged with anger, “You think I ever wanted you to endure what we suffered?” His words struck me mute.
“I never knew,” I whispered as tears welled in my eyes. My father let out a weary sigh, his own eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Perhaps we did shelter you too much,” he admitted quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “I just couldn’t bear the thought of you facing the same hatred we endured. We only wanted you to have opportunities—to study, build a career, start a family.”
“I was never going to be accepted,” I declared, my voice steady despite the tremor of pain in my chest. “I will always be different,” I pressed on, meeting their gaze unflinchingly. My mother’s retort sliced through the silence with biting force. “And this makes it better?” she demanded, her tone laced with fury. “You’re giving them exactly what they want—you’re fighting fire with fire.”
My eyes glistened with that memory, recalling when I was around 26 and faced my parents in that painful confrontation. Although they had come to terms with it by now, the recollection still reopened old wounds.
Narrative: Nathan Ellis
Saturday evening, Kiara and I stood at her parents’ door. I exhaled slowly, trying to steady myself. She glanced at me and asked, “Ready?” with a reassuring smile. Noticing my shirt collar was askew, she deftly straightened it before leaning in to kiss me softly.
I said “I’m ready” as we held hands and her other hand pressed the doorbell.
Her father swung open the door, his imposing frame filling the doorway. Though his face remained unreadable, there was a flicker of something in his eyes—perhaps curiosity, perhaps apprehension—as he regarded us. Kiara beamed, releasing my hand to rush forward and wrap her arms around him in a warm embrace. “Daddy!” she exclaimed, her voice bright with affection.
“How’s my little princess,” he murmured tenderly. Kiara flashed him a radiant smile before turning to me. “Daddy, it’s finally time to meet Nathan.” Taking my hand in hers, she guided me forward. My steps felt hesitant, my smile a bit strained as I approached. “Hi Mr. Washington,” I offered, extending my hand with a slight nod. He accepted it firmly and warmly, his grip solid yet welcoming as he ushered us inside.
As her father disappeared into the living room, Kiara and I trailed behind. Leaning toward her, I whispered teasingly, “‘Daddy’?” She shot me a warning glare before snapping, “Not now, Nathan!”
As we entered the cozy living room, I noticed Kiara’s mother waiting near the center of the room. Kiara immediately hurried over and wrapped her in a warm embrace. I lingered back slightly, feeling a bit awkward as Kiara turned to introduce me. Her mother stepped forward and enveloped me in a gentle hug.
I blinked in surprise at how smoothly everything had gone. I’d braced for disaster, anticipating some kind of explosion at any second.
As Kiara and I settled onto the sofa, I perched formally on the edge, resting my palms on my knees to maintain a respectful distance. Yet before I could fully retreat into nervous propriety, she reached over and claimed my right hand in hers.
Her father settled into his armchair while her mother took a seat on the adjacent sofa, both turning their attention toward us.
The silence stretched on, thick enough to choke on, each tick of the clock amplifying my unease. Who would break it? Her father did, his words slicing through the tension. “So you two got engaged before we could see Nathan up close.” My breath caught at the pointed remark.
“I’m sorry Mr. Washington,” I began, my voice steady despite the tension coiling in my chest. “Our circumstance was unique.” Her mother’s gaze softened as she added gently, “I remember your face, Nathan. You two were still at university when we saw you on the computer.” I gave a slow nod, acknowledging her recollection as the weight of their unspoken questions pressed down on us all.
“So you love my daughter?” her father asked, his gaze unwavering. I turned to Kiara, my voice steady and clear. “Absolutely, sir,” I affirmed, holding her hand tightly as I met her eyes. “I never stopped loving her.”
Her mother leaned forward slightly. “And do you two work together?” I nodded slowly, my voice measured. “It was quite unexpected, actually—a complete twist of fate that brought us back into each other’s lives.”
Her mother smiled warmly. “That’s God’s work,” she declared softly, her words imbued with conviction. “He tests us all the time—split you two up only to bring you back together stronger.” As I listened, a faint smile touched my lips; while I generally didn’t believe in a higher power, there was something undeniably comforting in her faith.
Her father shifted forward, his tone growing somber. “Nathan,” he began, “I know what happened the first time my daughter met your parents. And to be honest, I was hurt.” I acknowledged his words with a slow nod. “I understand, sir,” I replied carefully, feeling the weight of that memory settle between us.
Kiara remained silent, her stillness suggesting she intended for me to fully grasp the anguish her parents had endured. “I held my little girl as she cried endlessly in my arms after you left,” her father continued. His words struck me like a physical blow, causing my jaw to drop slightly as I turned to Kiara. Tears brimmed in her eyes and she gave a small nod, silently confirming the painful truth of his account.
Her mother’s words pulled my gaze toward her. “Something changed in her, Nathan,” she remarked quietly. “We saw less of her after you left, and then we discovered how deeply involved she had become in activism.”
I hesitated before speaking, the words coming out in a quiet confession. “I’ve replayed that encounter with my parents countless times in my thoughts,” I admitted, pausing as the memories surfaced again. “Each time I imagined stepping in, defending Kiara instead of standing by while they said those things.” My voice wavered slightly as I glanced at Kiara, the weight of that long-ago moment heavy in the air between us.
“I tried to make amends afterward, but I wounded Kiara deeply and irrevocably; it marked the beginning of our end and remains the darkest period of my life,” I confessed with unwavering resolve.
Kiara finally broke the silence, her voice measured yet steady. “What’s done is done,” she said softly, meeting my gaze with a look that carried both resignation and understanding. “Nathan and I have talked this through many times—we each caused pain in our own ways, and we both suffered for it.” Her words hung in the air, simple yet heavy with shared history.
“I can’t deny the change in her,” her father began, pausing briefly as if gathering his thoughts. “I feel like we have our daughter back,” he continued, his voice carrying a note of relief and hope. After a moment, he added with quiet conviction, “And I see that although you both endured a great deal of pain, you were ultimately good for each other.”
I expressed my gratitude to Mr. Washington, genuinely taken aback by their compassion—it far surpassed the cold reception I’d received from my own parents during that initial encounter with Kiara.
We lingered for dinner, savoring every bite of the rich Caribbean flavors. The warm spices filled the room as we passed dishes around the table, and conversations unfolded effortlessly amid shared laughter and stories. Seeing both our families finally at ease with Kiara and me together brought a quiet sense of relief, like a burden had been lifted.
Kiara hesitated initially, her expression guarded as she prepared to share her news. Eventually, she revealed that she was pregnant. I observed the surprise flicker across her parents’ faces; however, given that our wedding was imminent, they refrained from judgment. Instead, a genuine delight spread over their features—they were thrilled at the prospect of becoming grandparents.
Narrative: Kiara Washington
As we settled onto the sofa, wine glasses in hand, Nathan broke the silence. “What your father said,” he began slowly, “and hearing about you crying in his arms...” His voice trailed off. I nodded quietly, acknowledging the memory.
“I can’t shake this from my mind,” he confessed softly. My fingers brushed his cheek in a tender gesture of reassurance. “It’s okay,” I murmured, my voice steady and soothing. “Breakups and heartache are simply part of the human experience—something everyone goes through at some point. And remember, we’ve weathered those storms before and found our way back to each other.”
“It’s something we should celebrate, because most people never get another chance to revive what they once lost,” I affirmed with unwavering confidence.
Nathan nodded in agreement and I saw a sense of relief wash over him. “You’re just incredible,” he said, making me smile. “Oh baby, you’re going to eat those words when I start busting your balls for everything,” I said as I kissed him tenderly.
“Bring it on, sister,” he said, grinning. It was so adorably awkward yet endearing—but he’s mine.
Narrative: Nathan Ellis
With only a few days remaining until our wedding, nearly every detail had fallen into place—the church venue that Kiara’s parents had enthusiastically approved, the reception location locked down—but our honeymoon remained a tantalizing enigma.
Kiara had went to select her wedding gown with her friends Tanya and Nia—and I’d already purchased my suit. We rushed sending out invitations, determined to be married before Kiara’s pregnancy became unmistakable beneath her clothes.
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