Part 1 Alejandro jumped up like somebody shot at him

Part 1

Alejandro jumped up like somebody shot at him. His face went from shock to that fake calm real quick.

“Babe, it ain’t what it look like—”

“Get the hell away from my daughter.”

I snatched Sofia up so fast, wrapped her in my arms like I was shielding her from the devil himself. She buried her face in my neck and started sobbing — deep, broken cries that tore my soul apart.

I looked that man dead in his eyes, voice steady but full of fire. “You got ten seconds to get out my house before I call the police and every uncle I got in Atlanta. And trust me, they don’t play.”

He tried to talk, tried to gaslight me, but I wasn’t hearing it. I grabbed my phone, called 911, then called my best friend Keisha and told her to come get us. By the time the police pulled up, Alejandro was still trying to spin some story about “family discipline.”

The female officer took one look at Sofia’s bruises and the fear in my baby’s eyes and her whole face changed.

“Ma’am, we’re taking this very seriously.”

They arrested him right there in the living room. As they walked him out in cuffs, I stood on the porch holding Sofia and said loud enough for the whole block to hear:

“You touched the wrong child. You messed with the wrong mama.”

That night we stayed at Keisha’s. I didn’t sleep. I just held my baby girl, rocking her, praying over her, crying quiet tears into her curls. I kept whispering, “Mama got you now. Ain’t nobody ever gonna hurt you again.”

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