Unfiltered Dialogues
Copyright© 2026 by SilkStories
Chapter 2
Narrative: Nathan Ellis
“Nathan, this is Kiara, one of our promising accountants—you’ll be working closely together,” Warren announced as my mouth fell open, his words barely registering in my stunned mind. Kiara rose smoothly from her kneeling position, adjusting her skirt with practiced grace before extending her hand toward me. “It’s nice to meet you, Nathan,” she offered hesitantly. My gaze fixed on her outstretched fingers; I remained immobilized, throat tight as I struggled to clear it.
I reached for her hand and shook it, my voice rough as I managed, “It’s nice to meet you too.” Warren clapped me on the shoulder. “Let me show you your desk,” he said. Kiara and I stood there, our hands still clasped together.
Kiara smiled and leaned in, whispering softly, “You can let go now.” Her gentle reminder jolted me back to reality; I released her hand immediately yet remained visibly rattled. Standing right before me was Kiara—the very woman who had captured my heart a decade ago—working at the firm I had just joined.
Narrative: Kiara Washington
As soon as I saw Nathan disappear into another room where he would be working, I hurried to the bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god” I kept repeating under my breath, then louder than intended, “What the fuck!”
I pressed my palm hard against my forehead as worry clawed its way up my chest. “Nathan? Of all people,” I muttered, then added with bitter emphasis, “Working together? Fuck!”
I turned towards the mirror once again, hands at my sides, palms facing down as if steadying myself. Exhaling slowly, I murmured, “Okay, Kiara—you’ve faced countless racists in your time, led marches with thousands of people. You can handle one simple white guy. All he was to me was the love of my life, the one I thought I’d grow old with. FUCK!” My body trembled violently at the thought.
I had to confront him. “I have to tell him he has no choice but to leave,” I muttered to myself, then began arguing with my reflection, my hand pressed hard against my chest. “Why should I go? I was here before you. No—you must go! This is my place, you’re trespassing, you have no right to be here.”
I closed my eyes and focused on inhaling through my nose, exhaling through my mouth. Suddenly, I heard Sophie’s voice behind me—”Kiara?” I gasped in surprise at her unexpected entrance. “Are you okay?” I nodded quickly, replying, “I’m fine,” as I hurried out of the bathroom.
As I walked slowly to my desk, I turned suddenly with a surge of resolve. Striding into the next room, I found Nathan engrossed in the computer screen just a few feet away. “Nathan!” The word burst from me unbidden. He glanced up, startled by my interruption. “You’re trespassing,” I declared impulsively, the accusation hanging heavy in the air between us. Shit, that wasn’t what I was going to say.
Warren’s head appeared from behind the monitor, startling me—I hadn’t noticed him there. “Kiara? What did you say?” My eyes widened as I stammered, “Nothing.” I retreated to my desk, sinking into my chair while bowing my head in a futile attempt to disappear entirely.
Narrative: Nathan Ellis
As I tried to untangle Kiara’s cryptic remark, Warren chimed in with a casual observation. “She’s acting strange today,” he remarked. A knowing smile crept onto my lips; yes, I mused silently, she was acting strange indeed.
My arrival had ignited something within her, a spark I hadn’t anticipated. That professional handshake, so deliberate and detached, should have been proof enough that she had moved on without me.
Until lunchtime I’d immersed myself in the documents Warren provided, even though the woman I once loved was just one room away. Yet with her nearby, I couldn’t spare a moment to consider whether I truly wished to excel here.
I grabbed my jacket and headed out, stealing a glance toward Kiara’s desk only to find it vacant. A wave of conflicting emotions washed over me—disappointment at not seeing her again mingled with relief at avoiding further awkwardness. Stepping outside, I made my way to the local café for a much-needed coffee break.
Narrative: Kiara Washington
“Is this seat taken?” Nathan said as I looked up. “Nathan? What are you doing here?” I asked, bewildered. “Just grabbing a coffee,” he replied casually before sitting down across from me without waiting for an invitation.
A knot of anxiety tightened in my chest. This was all wrong, his presence here making it impossible to focus. I leaned forward, lowering my voice. “Look, you need to find another job—you can’t stay working here.”
He stared into my eyes, visibly startled. “I was made redundant a few months ago,” he explained softly, “securing this position required considerable effort.” I pressed on despite the tension in my chest. “You’re intelligent, you could find alternative employment.” Shaking his head solemnly, he countered, “The current job market is very tough right now Kiara.”
I hesitated as he spoke my name, memories flooding back with startling clarity. “I can’t leave; I need this job,” I insisted, my resolve wavering. “I never suggested you should go,” I quickly added, softening my tone. “We both know our history complicates things, but we’ll have to set aside the past and maintain professionalism.”
“Can we do that?” he said almost pleadingly.
Finally, I gave a curt nod. It wasn’t right to try forcing him out; he seemed just as startled by this situation as I was. “No discussing the past - understood?” I demanded sharply. Nathan swallowed hard and dipped his chin in agreement. “Understood,” he affirmed quietly.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I pulled it out to see Nia’s text flashing on the screen. “Hey bestie, how’s it going?” I couldn’t help but smile at her familiar greeting. Quickly typing a reply, I wrote, “Hey you, I’m good. Got an idea for my next podcast—tell you later.” Within moments, her response appeared with a playful can’t-wait emoji.
I drained the last of my coffee, setting the mug down with a decisive clink. As I rose to exit, Nathan immediately began pushing back from his chair. Panic flared within me; I couldn’t walk out alongside him, not here where anyone might see us together. “No!” The word burst out before I could soften it. I gestured sharply toward his seat. “Leave after me.” His eyes widened in surprise, but he slowly sank back into his chair without argument.
That evening I invited Nia over to my place. When she arrived, we shared a warm embrace at the doorway before I ushered her inside. “So what do you have in mind?” she asked curiously. I paused for effect then announced, “I want you as a special guest on my podcast tonight. What do you say?” I watched her expression shift to astonishment. “Really?” she exclaimed in disbelief. I nodded earnestly, leaning forward as I pleaded, “Please say yes.” Without hesitation she agreed, “Let’s do it.”
As I arranged the recording equipment, Nia settled in beside me with her own microphone. “Ready?” I asked. She nodded eagerly, anticipation lighting up her face. “Just wait until I mention your name before speaking,” I instructed. “Okay,” she confirmed with a quick nod.
I switched on the recorder and started, “Hey, hey, hey! It’s Kiara Washington with another episode of Unfiltered Dialogues—the space where no topic is off-limits. Today is extra special because I’m not flying solo; I’ve got a special guest joining me.”
“Yes, you may have guessed it, it’s the one and only Nia Simmons, activist, patriot, friend...” I glanced at Nia as I continued, “ ... and all in all a beautiful person.” After a brief pause to play some intro music for a couple of seconds, I lowered the volume and warmly greeted her. “Welcome Nia, how ya doing girl?”
“Hey K ... Kiara, I ... I’m fine thank you” she stammered, caught off guard by my introduction. “Aww, she’s a little shy ladies and gentlemen, don’t be shy Nia” I teased gently as I placed a hand on her shoulder and gave an encouraging nod that she’s got this.
“Now as many of you may have figured it out, this is the Nia I spoke about in my last episode, I had hurt her and never saw past my arrogance, but she has forgiven me, ... wait, you have forgiven me haven’t you Nia?” I said looking at her, she chuckled sweetly, “Yes, Kiara, you are forgiven.”
“Perfect, otherwise this podcast was going to be awwwwwkkwaaaaard,” I said in exaggerated singsong, drawing out each syllable with playful emphasis.
“Now Nia, now that we’re good friends” I began, just as she leaned toward the microphone and added brightly, “Best friends.” Surprised and touched, I shook my head in disbelief. “Aww, thank you—I honestly can’t believe you see me as your best friend after everything I put you through. Girl, you’re a far better person than I am; I would have written my ass off long ago.” My words tumbled out joyfully as her laughter bubbled up in response.
“I want to move on to some serious topics if you’re ready,” I said as she nodded, then added with a knowing smile, “Just to let you guys know, Nia agreed with a nod of her head—y’all have to take my word for it.”
“Now Nia, I hope you don’t mind me asking about your heritage do you?” I asked. With an easy smile, Nia leaned into the moment and replied, “Of course not, ask away.” Delighted by her willingness to share, I continued warmly, “Great! Nia, you are of mixed race—your mother is African American and your father is white Irish. Is that right?” Nia adjusted her position slightly closer to the microphone and affirmed with quiet pride, “That’s right.”
“And have you had difficulties adjusting to anything?” I asked gently. Nia shifted slightly, leaning in closer to the mic with quiet conviction. “Kind of,” she answered thoughtfully. “I’ve been surrounded by both Black and white family members my whole life—it all just felt normal to me.”
“As I got older going to school, I did feel different,” Nia said. “In what way?” I asked curiously. Nia exhaled and spoke, “Well, I’ve hung out with white friends and also black friends and both sides see me different; I kind of felt I wasn’t really a part of the group whichever it was.”
“Do you mean, you didn’t feel welcome? By either group?” I pressed gently as Nia’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Sometimes,” she admitted softly. “It usually happened during serious discussions—if I’m with my black friends, they’d tell me I couldn’t understand their pain, and my white friends would unintentionally insult me when discussing race-related issues.”
“Thank you Nia, that took real courage,” I said, then turned to the microphone. “Nia came on the show today to share her personal experience of being mixed race—how it shapes her daily life and why we shouldn’t dismiss those challenges.” I paused, letting my confession hang in the quiet studio. “I’m ashamed to admit that I once fell into that very same trap ... judging Nia unfairly because of her skin color. It was a painful lesson to learn.” Turning back to Nia with sincere regret, I added quietly, “ ... and for that, I’m truly sorry once again.”
“It’s fine Kiara—we’re good friends now,” Nia said with a warm smile. “Absolutely,” I agreed. Turning to the microphone, I announced, “And that wraps up today’s episode of Unfiltered Dialogues, with your host, Kiara Washington, joined by the incredible Nia Simmons.” I gestured toward Nia. “Let’s hear that farewell.” Nia leaned in and said goodbye clearly before I added, “Peace and love to y’all.” Flipping off the recorder, I placed my hands on her shoulders and murmured sincerely, “You were truly amazing.”
In the days that followed, our podcast exploded in popularity due to Nia’s heartfelt confession. Countless comments poured in—mostly positive messages from people of all backgrounds—and many came from mixed race individuals who shared similar experiences of feeling caught between worlds. It struck me as remarkable that I had never explored this subject matter before.
Although there were bound to be a lot of negative comments from the usual suspects, saying shit like: if you didn’t have interracial couples, this would never happen. Fucking pricks.
Apart from the podcast which I was incredibly proud and surprised by, I had spent some time working alongside Nathan. He was incredibly professional in what he did; I saw the allure that Warren saw before hiring him—damn, I would hire him.
As we sat side by side reviewing case finances, Nathan suddenly asked, “What have you been doing lately?” His unexpected question took me by surprise.
“What?” I said, startled. “I’m just curious,” he explained, trying to downplay his question. Shaking my head, I replied firmly, “I don’t think that’s appropriate.” Undeterred, he pressed on with a hesitant edge in his voice. “I just wanted to know ... do you have someone special?” My gaze sharpened as I studied him intently before offering a measured response. “I have a podcast where I voice my opinions on black oppression in America.”
His eyes widened. “Really? What’s it called? I’d love to listen.” I hesitated, feeling foolish yet wanting him to see how much I had changed since our past. “It’s called Unfiltered Dialogues,” I finally admitted. “Check it out—but keep it quiet here, understand?” He nodded silently. Eager to shift focus back to our task, I added, “We should return to the work now.” He agreed without hesitation.
Narrative: Nathan Ellis
That night after Lyra drifted off to sleep, I found myself restless. Pulling out my phone, I searched for Kiara’s podcasts. They appeared immediately in the results—hundreds of episodes spanning three years. Stunned, I plugged in my earbuds and started listening, from the very first episode.
I heard Kiara’s voice as if she was talking directly to me—the very essence of a podcast—but it felt like she was in the room with me.
I listened intently, struck by how radically her worldview had transformed. She had evolved into a forceful advocate demanding justice for the Black community—a dynamic activist and leader.
As I listened to podcast after podcast, Kiara discussed numerous urgent issues. Recent shootings dominated many episodes; her words were raw, unflinching commentary on police brutality targeting Black lives. Each segment revealed her evolution into a bold champion for justice, her voice resonating with both fury and resolve as she dissected systemic racism with clinical precision.
Her confidence grew exponentially with each episode, and I was in awe of her skill. I found myself laughing at her clever wordplay and witty asides, even catching the subtle humor hidden beneath the serious discussions. Her ability to blend gravity with levity made her utterly captivating.
But I couldn’t help wonder how she became this woman—the Kiara I remembered was reserved and shy, her beauty understated yet radiant. That essence remained, though her appearance had evolved with a striking new hairstyle: her natural hair was now sculpted into a short, chic afro that framed her face with bold confidence.
After ten episodes, a mere sampling of her vast collection, I switched off the screen. Three hours had slipped away, with individual recordings lasting anywhere from fifteen to twenty minutes. Plugging in my earbuds, I finally lay down—yet sleep eluded me.
I smiled at the realization of Kiara’s transformation—her fierce strength and unyielding resolve were unmistakable, yet her fervor occasionally edged toward the radical.
In one episode, Kiara addressed interracial relationships—a topic that immediately captured my attention. Without hesitation, she declared, “No way honey, not for me, I’m looking for that special hunky black man who would just claim me.”
I couldn’t shake the question: did that declaration have anything to do with me?
In the days that followed, I found myself constantly drawn to Kiara’s podcasts. During my morning bus ride to work, while walking between errands, and even during brief moments at lunch—I seized every opportunity to listen. The sheer volume of her recordings left me eager to absorb more.
My girlfriend never grew suspicious, even when I listened at home. Occasionally, she’d ask what filled my earbuds, and I’d tell her plainly it was a woman discussing black oppression. She would frown upon hearing that, taking an earbud to listen as my breath caught in my throat.
After listening, she handed back the earbud and remarked in her accent, “She sounds crazy.” I forced a strained smile, knowing Lyra had no idea of my history with Kiara.
On those workdays when Kiara passed by, my gaze would linger on her, only to shift away the moment she turned. Even as we sat together reviewing financial statements, our eyes would meet in fleeting moments that hinted at some deeper connection. Those stolen glances held a weight of their own, suggesting they carried more meaning than mere chance encounters.
My intimate moments with Lyra didn’t escape my notice; my thoughts were so preoccupied with Kiara that my desire waned. “What’s going on with you lately?” Lyra asked as I blamed work stress for my distraction.
Although Kiara’s current attitude reflected someone who had radically transformed from that university girl—obsessed with how white classmates perceived her, even straightening her hair to match their styles—she had entirely shed that version of herself.
The shift in her was jarring. She now attacked the very people she’d once tried so desperately to please. Her fury on those podcasts wasn’t just political—it felt deeply personal, like every word carried the sting of old wounds. And I couldn’t shake the feeling that I knew exactly where some of that pain came from.
The following day at work, Kiara stopped by my desk. Sometimes it was me visiting hers, but this time when she took a seat I sensed a newfound ease about her being near me. We’d share a laugh at certain points—even over work matters. I found myself missing her smile and missing her laughter.
I missed her.
Narrative: Kiara Washington
“Now listen up, this is crucial,” I emphasized, catching Nathan’s wandering attention as he snapped to focus. “Yes ma’am,” he replied with practiced deference, drawing a soft chuckle from me.
I started explaining about these particular numbers and what this case was going to cost with each session with the client.
“I should have fought harder for you” he blurted out.
I blinked in surprise. “What?” I asked, my brow furrowing as Nathan continued, “I should never have let my parents say those things to you.” Our eyes locked, and though my face remained impassive, a wave of understanding washed over me.
I returned my gaze to the figures glowing on the monitor. “I ... I think...” My voice faltered as the words caught in my throat. Without another sound, I rose quickly from my seat and moved away from his workstation. I hurried down the hall toward the restroom, needing space to collect myself.
Staring into the bathroom mirror, tears began to pool in my eyes as I gripped the countertop with trembling hands. It was the first time since Nathan joined our team that I finally broke down and cried.
Narrative: Nathan Ellis
“Great, smooth-talking Nathan, now she’ll never speak to you again,” I scolded myself. I knew Kiara had warned me not to dredge up old wounds, but hearing her voice on those podcasts stirred memories I couldn’t suppress. Despite the changes in her life, the essence of her spirit—her fierce intelligence and passion—echoed through every episode. And that unshakeable core of her being? It was still undeniably Kiara.
When Kiara returned she didn’t take a seat but instead leaned in close, her composure betraying only the slightest hint of fury. “Listen to me Nathan,” she said sharply, “I don’t want to hear shit about the past. What you wished you had done is completely irrelevant now—too little, too late—so don’t you dare fucking bring that shit up again. You understand?” I nodded mutely, swallowing hard before murmuring, “Of course, I’m sorry.”
“We’ll sort the rest of the numbers out later, I’m going to lunch and don’t come to the cafe.” My eyes never left the table as I gave a slow, deliberate nod.
Narrative: Kiara Washington
That evening, I decided to invite Tanya over as a guest for tonight’s podcast—a rare move, but with Nia’s earlier appearance, it seemed to resonate well with listeners.
As I prepped the equipment, Tanya and I slipped on our headphones. With a subtle nod, I signaled it was time then flipped the switch to record. “Heeeyaa, it’s Kiara Washington everybody for another episode of Unfiltered Dilogues,” I began, my usual intro rolling off my tongue with its signature boldness, “where this show turns boys into men.”
The line tumbled out unfiltered and raw. Tanya chuckled at that remark. “The laugh you heard there wasn’t my split personality,” I clarified playfully into the mic, “that’s right y’all, I have another guest—it’s the one and only Tanya Jefferson.” I cued up a sound bite of an audience cheering. Turning to her with a warm smile, I asked, “Welcome Tanya, whatcha been up to?” Tanya leaned in closer to the microphone. “Heeeeyyyy Kiara,” she drawled coolly, making me grin even wider. Her tone hinted at something extra special brewing. “You sound like something is too gooood girl,” I remarked in return, curious about what was really going on with her.
“Now, before we dive into what’s really on your mind, let me tell our listeners what makes you truly special,” I purred, leaning into the mic. “Tanya isn’t just a sister in the struggle—she’s been out there on the front lines with me, fighting tooth and nail for justice. And trust me, this woman is all fire and heart—if you’re looking to dance with danger, you’d better brace yourself.” Tanya’s laughter rang out warmly through the studio.
“Well,” Tanya began slowly, her voice dripping with playful mystery, “someone very special came knocking on my door recently—and ever since then, we simply can’t keep our hands to ourselves.” My eyes widened at this unexpected revelation; Tanya had never breathed a word about dating anyone.
“Hold up, girl—you’ve been holding out on me? You got a bae now?” I demanded, leaning forward expectantly. She gave me a sly nod in response. “No ma’am,” I insisted firmly, gesturing toward the microphone, “our listeners deserve the full scoop—no nodding allowed!” Tanya laughed softly before continuing with unmistakable sass: “Alright then, it’s true. His name is Mark, and let me tell you—he’s certainly left his mark on me.”
“Woo!” I exclaimed, fanning my blouse to cool off. “We need a fire extinguisher here!” Tanya and I both burst into laughter.
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