Unfiltered Dialogues
Copyright© 2026 by SilkStories
Chapter 16
A month had slipped by since the funeral. Now I found myself perched on the sofa, one hand resting on my swelling belly as the other swept across the desolate emptiness of the apartment. Tears fell freely each day, my grief an unrelenting companion.
Nathan’s death shattered us all, and confronting his parents during the funeral became a moment of unbearable anguish. The guilt gnawed at me—knowing their only child had been taken because of my actions. Yet instead of resentment, they offered solace; we shared tears together, his mother embracing me in shared sorrow.
They arrested the killer, and to my horror, it was Derek—someone I’d once trusted implicitly. My own misjudgment in letting him into my life had tragically set the stage for Nathan’s murder.
I had returned to work for the first time since Nathan’s death, seeking solace in routine. My colleagues and Warren greeted me with somber faces and heartfelt condolences, offering support with genuine concern.
But when I saw Nathan’s empty desk, the reality of his absence overwhelmed me. My vision blurred as memories flooded my mind—how his laughter used to fill this space, how he would glance up from his work with that familiar smile. The weight of grief pressed down on me until I could hardly breathe. How would I ever find the strength to carry on?
Sometimes, I’d break down crying without warning. At those moments, I’d gaze at my wedding ring and feel the tears pour out uncontrollably, as though some unseen tap had been turned on full blast.
Once again, I found myself returning to the hollow emptiness of my apartment. My parents had urged me to stay with them, but I refused—I needed no comfort or solace. I didn’t deserve kindness; all I craved was the solitude where I could drown in remorse. This anguish had begun long ago, when I shattered Nathan’s heart at university—a wound that had festered into this unending torment.
The incessant stream of texts and voicemails from Tanya and Nia went unanswered, each notification a reminder of their growing concern. Yet the thought of explaining my state left me paralyzed; what words could possibly capture this abyss?
Summoning every ounce of will, I retreated to the only refuge that still felt sacred—the recording studio. With deliberate steps, I entered the small sanctuary, shutting the door firmly behind me. The familiar hum of equipment greeted me as I positioned the microphone, adjusted the headphones over my ears, and pressed record.
With a heavy silence, I finally spoke into the microphone, my voice barely a whisper. “Hey y’all, it’s Kiara Washington here for another episode of Unfiltered Dialogues—doing my best to share what little I have left.”
My sniffles echoed through the microphone as I continued, “As many of you may have already heard, my husband Nathan Ellis was brutally murdered during the justice march at Harwell Heights.” I paused, fighting back another wave of tears. “He was there to protect me—to shield our unborn child—and he paid the ultimate price for that courage.”
“Nathan begged you all to protect me, but no one even considered protecting him,” I choked out, tears cascading down my cheeks. “He lay there in a pool of his own blood ... and when the ambulance finally arrived, they pronounced him...” I faltered, gasping for air before finishing the devastating truth. “ ... dead at the scene.”
“He was stabbed in the back while frantically searching for me, right in the BACK!” I declared, my voice trembling with fury. “I refuse to say the murderer’s name because this isn’t about him—I will never speak it again. And if you’re listening, know this: I hope you fucking burn in hell!!!”
“On that Saturday, Nathan fixed breakfast, insisting I needed nourishment for both me and the baby before we joined the march. Just hours later, he lay lifeless in my arms.”
I clutched my hand to my face, muffling the sobs that threatened to break free. “My Nathan was a hero,” I whispered, trembling with grief, “my hero ... my baby ... the only man...” I paused, struggling to steady my voice. “ ... the only man who ever held my heart—the only man I truly loved.” Tears spilled over as I choked out, “I love you so much, baby...”
I continued speaking over the microphone, reminiscing about our lighter moments during university days. “Nathan once tumbled into the campus fountain,” I recalled, a soft laugh escaping my lips. “I rushed him back to my dorm room, peeled off his wet clothes, and bundled him up in a towel. Even then, his body reacted so naturally to mine.” A tearful chuckle bubbled up as I remembered another memory. “And how could I ever forget seeing him in that tiny pink nightgown of mine? Oh poor Nathan—utterly mortified but still so endearing.”