RAW & UNTOUCHABLE

She wasn’t the type you almost remembered.

She was the kind you never forgot.

Name?

Liyah.

Not Lisa. Not Lil mama. Not “shawty with the curves.”

Liyah — and she said it like a warning.

From the minute she stepped into a room, you felt her energy before you even saw her. She didn’t walk — she moved, like her heels were made of purpose and her hips held secrets. Hair laid, nails sharp like truth, lips coated in the kind of gloss that made you nervous to lie.

She wasn’t loud unless she wanted to be. But she had that presence — the kind that made other women adjust themselves and men forget how to speak.

Liyah didn’t chase.

She didn’t beg.

She didn’t repeat herself.

You either moved right or got the fuck out the way.

She’d been hurt before — sure. They tried to play her like she was regular. But see, every time someone tried to break her, she didn’t crack… she cut back. Now? Now she kept her circle so tight you couldn’t breathe in it. Loyalty was the only language she spoke — and betrayal? That was the fastest way to get erased.

They called her cold. Heartless. A bitch, sometimes. But it was funny how they only said that after she stopped tolerating their bullshit.

Truth is? She used to love hard. She used to ride ‘til the wheels fell off. She used to believe words meant something. But life taught her better. Now she loved herself harder than anyone else ever could. She became the one people prayed to keep, and the one they fumbled trying to control.

Her money was long. Her patience was not.

Liyah didn’t flex for likes — she flexed in real life. Credit good. Business registered. She had multiple hustles, but only one face card — and that face card never declined.

She had men that would fly her out, and exes that still watched her stories hoping to see a sign that she missed them.

Spoiler:

She didn’t.

She was too busy building a throne out of everything they thought would break her.

And her kids? Yeah, they knew. Mama wasn’t soft, but she was solid. They saw her grind, her tears, her comebacks. They saw the way she moved — never depending on anyone to save her. They didn’t just grow up with love. They grew up watching a goddess in grind mode.

So yeah — Liyah was a baddie.

Not the Instagram kind.

Not the kind that folded under pressure or changed herself to fit in.

She was real baddie energy.

Unapologetic. Unreachable. Unfuckwithable.

Say less.

Let’s keep this bad bitch energy flowing. Here’s Chapter 2 of Raw & Untouchable.

⸻

Chapter 2: You Can’t Play a Player

They thought she was new to the game.

Cute.

But Liyah was raised in it.

She’d seen it all — the fake loyalty, the broke boys with designer belts, the “bosses” with no structure. She peeped game before most even opened their mouth. That’s what scared them. Not just her beauty — it was the fact that she couldn’t be manipulated.

She didn’t fall for sweet nothings or late-night “what you doing” texts.

If you wanted her time, you had to come with respect, stability, and real intentions.

And if you didn’t? Cool. She had options. Options with better credit scores and a firmer grip.

Liyah didn’t believe in splitting bills with a man that couldn’t lead.

She wasn’t cooking for someone who still had mommy on speed dial.

And she sure as hell wasn’t putting her peace on the line for a good morning text and some mid.

Nope.

She’d rather pour a glass of wine, light a candle, and take herself out of her feelings than sit there questioning her worth.

Because she knew her worth.

She had tax returns, trauma, and testimony to prove it.

Men came to her thinking they’d teach her a lesson.

But they left learning one.

She could laugh in your face and make you fall in love at the same time.

She knew how to flip hurt into hustle and silence into strategy.

They’d text her at 3 a.m., saying, “I miss you.”

She’d reply, “You should’ve appreciated me when you had access.”

Liyah kept her nails sharp because she cut people off quick.

She didn’t entertain old flames — if she put you in her past, that’s where the fuck you stayed.

And friendships? Don’t get it twisted.

She wasn’t friendly. She was loyal. There’s a difference.

She’d ride for her circle, go broke to make sure her day-ones ate. But the moment she felt envy in your smile or saw you clap when she failed?

Gone.

Blocked.

Dead to her.

Liyah didn’t throw shade.

She shined.

She knew her light irritated people who’d been stuck in the dark too long.

Her body was art, but her mind? Deadly.

She had degrees of experience no school could offer. From surviving heartbreak to starting over with nothing but grit — Liyah earned her confidence the hard way. That’s why she walked like she owned every room she entered — because, spiritually? She did.

⸻

“You can’t break a woman who rebuilt herself from pieces nobody bothered to pick up.”

Chapter 3: Bag First, Feelings Later

Love was cute.

But money?

Money made her moan.

Liyah didn’t chase no dude — she chased deposits.

While some were out here clocking drama, she was clocking digits. Waking up early, plotting, planning, and executing silently. There were no “get rich quick” schemes in her world — just late nights, early mornings, and receipts. She didn’t have a rich baby daddy, a silver spoon, or a soft start. She built this — from dust to diamonds.

Her phone stayed on DND unless it was business.

She didn’t waste her time with people who couldn’t spell ambition.

She ran her own, registered LLC — lashes, styling, digital content, and consultations. She had an entire moodboard on her vision wall, and every sticky note had a deadline. Her cash app was never dry, and her credit score was climbing like her standards.

Liyah didn’t buy designer just to flex.

She bought it because she could.

And because she remembered when she had to choose between gas and groceries.

Never again.

She had multiple streams.

Loyal clients.

Passive income.

And a notebook full of plans bigger than her city.

Yeah, she had feelings — but they didn’t pay her bills.

So when dudes tried to spin the block with sweet nothings and flashbacks of “what we had,” she’d hit ‘em with:

“I don’t go backward. Gas too high to be revisiting bullshit.”

Liyah wasn’t bitter. She was booked.

She didn’t entertain low vibrations.

She didn’t let “potential” distract her from purpose.

If a man wanted to impress her, he better come with peace, power, and paperwork.

Not excuses.

Not baby mama drama.

Not weak dick and strong opinions.

She dated like a CEO — respectfully detached, emotionally intelligent, and never negotiating her non-negotiables.

Love could wait.

Money couldn’t.

And the ones who thought she’d be lonely forever?

They didn’t realize Liyah had already built a life so fulfilling, a man would have to add to it just to keep up.

She wasn’t mean — she was focused.

The version of her they used to manipulate was dead.

Now she loved herself in full.

Spoiled herself without guilt.

And stacked like her future depended on it — because it did.

⸻

“I’d rather count money than explain my worth to someone who already saw it and fumbled.”

Chapter 4: Don’t Let the Soft Fool You

She was a savage in heels,

but at home?

She was mama bear with cocoa butter and bedtime stories.

People saw Liyah and assumed she was all edge.

But those closest to her — the ones who earned access — knew better.

There was a softness beneath the armor.

But it was protected, not hidden.

Her kids?

Her world.

They didn’t just get a provider. They got a protector, a teacher, a nurturer. She made sure they never felt what she felt growing up — neglected, silenced, small.

Liyah turned pain into purpose.

Instead of trauma, her babies were raised on structure and affirmation.

Every morning:

“You smart.”

“You strong.”

“You somebody.”

Every night:

Kisses to foreheads.

Blankets tucked with care.

And whispers of, “Mommy loves you more than anything.”

They didn’t know how many nights she cried after they went to sleep.

They didn’t know how many jobs she juggled to keep the lights on.

But one day, they’d understand what strength really looked like —

and it would look like her.

Outside that home, though? She still kept her foot on necks.

Don’t mistake her love for weakness.

Liyah could shift gears quick. She’d go from making grilled cheese to checking a bill collector like it was nothing. From wiping tears to signing contracts in the same breath.

People tried to test her boundaries, thinking that being a mother softened her spine.

What they didn’t realize was —

She didn’t become soft. She became sacred.

If you ever really had her love, you felt heaven.

But if you crossed her?

You met hell.

She didn’t play about her kids.

She didn’t play about her peace.

And she damn sure didn’t play about her progress.

But somewhere in the middle of all that movement, all that grind…

someone showed up.

Not perfect.

Not flashy.

Just real.

He saw her in mom-mode and still found her sexy.

He didn’t try to save her — just stood beside her. Listened. Respected her time. Showed up without her having to beg.

He wasn’t intimidated by her independence.

He admired it.

He didn’t say “let me take care of you.”

He said, “Let me match your energy.”

And for the first time in a long time…

Liyah didn’t feel like she had to fight or shrink.

But even then, she kept one eye open.

Because the last time she let someone in too quick…

they took advantage of the light she gave.

Now?

She gives slowly.

Earned, not assumed.

And if he wanted her heart?

He had to come correct —

not with gifts, but with consistency.

⸻

“Yes, I’m soft. But baby, I’m not stupid. There’s a difference.”

Chapter 5: The Ex That Couldn’t Let Go

He watched her glow up from the sidelines.

And it burned his soul.

Dre.

The one who swore she’d never leave.

The one who played with her like she didn’t know her worth.

Back when Liyah was still raw, still healing, still figuring herself out —

Dre had her wide open.

He didn’t love her right, but he loved how she loved him.

And when she finally walked away?

He thought she was bluffing.

But Liyah didn’t bluff.

When she left, she left.

No long paragraphs. No drama. Just silence that screamed, “I’m done for real.”

Now here he was… months later.

Watching her post her business flyers.

Seeing her name mentioned in rooms he never thought she’d reach.

And hearing through mutuals that she wasn’t just leveling up —

she was glowing in ways he never helped her do.

He tried to spin the block.

Texted her on a random Tuesday like they were still cool.

“You good?”

She left it on read.

He sent her a Cash App with the message “For wasting your time.”

She refunded it.

Dre couldn’t understand it.

How did she go from begging him to show up…

to not giving a fuck if he even breathed?

But see, Liyah was done.

She cried for him already.

She forgave herself for staying too long.

And now? Now she was healed. Dangerous.

Unreachable.

He wasn’t worried about her new dude at first…

until he saw them together.

It wasn’t the man’s car or clothes that bothered Dre.

It was the way Liyah laughed.

Unbothered.

Free.

He remembered that laugh.

But it never sounded like that with him.

Because he never gave her peace — only chaos dressed in fake love.

So he did what the weak ones do —

he started talking.

Called her a “sellout.”

Told mutual friends she “switched up.”

Claimed she was “acting brand new.”

But anyone who knew Liyah knew the truth:

She didn’t switch up.

She leveled up.

And he just wasn’t invited.

Still, he couldn’t stop.

Started lurking on her socials.

DMing her girls.

Even popped up once at a spot he knew she frequented — trying to be “casual.”

But Liyah?

She stood up, calm and unbothered, heels clicking like a countdown.

Leaned in close, so only he could hear, and said:

“You had access to me when I was still figuring shit out.

Now that I know who I am —

you don’t even qualify to watch me.”

He stood there, stunned.

Silent.

Because for once…

he had no control.

⸻

“Your absence didn’t break me — it built me.”

Chapter 6: Loyalty Ain’t for Everybody

Liyah always said:

“Loyalty ain’t a word — it’s a lifestyle.”

And she lived by that.

If she rocked with you, she rocked HARD. Fed you when you were broke, defended you when your name came up, held your secrets like her own.

But lately?

Something in her circle felt… off.

Too many side-eyes.

Too much silence when she walked in.

Vibes don’t lie — and Liyah paid attention to energy before words.

At first, she brushed it off.

Busy women don’t have time for drama.

But her intuition?

That shit screamed.

It started when she noticed her ideas popping up on someone else’s page.

Her exact phrases. Her same captions. Even her promo strategy — duplicated down to the font.

The thief?

Kayla.

The one who used to call her “sis.”

Liyah had put her on.

Taught her how to monetize, get her look together, even helped her secure her first few clients.

But instead of respect, Kayla moved with secret envy.

She wanted Liyah’s hustle… without Liyah’s struggle.

And when Liyah confronted her?

All that fake love crumbled.

“I thought we were building together,” Liyah said, calm but cutthroat.

Kayla folded fast:

“It’s not even that serious. You think you better than everybody now…”

Nah.

It wasn’t that Liyah thought she was better —

she just refused to dim her light for insecure bitches who were scared to shine.

She didn’t argue.

She didn’t fight.

She removed her.

Blocked.

Deleted.

Erased from the group chat and the blueprint.

Liyah reminded herself of something her mama once told her:

“Don’t be scared to outgrow people. Even snakes shed skin.”

After Kayla, it got quieter.

But it got realer.

Her circle shrunk, but her focus doubled.

She leaned deeper into her business, her babies, and her new man — the one who always asked, “You good?” and meant it.

She started moving even smarter:

📌 Contracts in place.

📌 NDAs on creative collabs.

📌 No more putting people on who ain’t proven they deserve a seat.

Because from now on?

If you fumble Liyah — you fumble a blessing. And she don’t re-deliver shit twice.

⸻

“Some people don’t switch up — they just get revealed.”

Chapter 7: Love, Lust & Loyalty

There was something different about him.

He wasn’t the loudest in the room.

Didn’t flex money. Didn’t chase clout.

He moved quiet — but his presence spoke volumes.

His name was Truth.

No cap, that was really his name — and his energy lived up to it.

From the jump, he saw Liyah for what she was:

Not just a baddie — but a whole movement.

He didn’t try to fix her.

He respected that she built herself.

She’d been played before — loved for how she looked, never for who she was.

But Truth didn’t fall for the body first.

He fell for her discipline. Her mindset. The way she handled pressure like it owed her rent.

The first time he pulled up on her?

He came with no expectations. Just vibes.

“I ain’t here to waste your time, Liyah,” he said, eyes locked.

“I just wanna be where peace lives. And from what I see… it lives in you.”

She wanted to laugh — thought it was game.

But he never pressed.

Never pushed.

He showed up, consistently.

Called her after a long day, just to remind her she wasn’t alone.

Took the kids out for ice cream without asking for pictures or praise.

Sent her affirmations in the morning.

Told her she was powerful, even when she didn’t feel like it.

And Liyah?

She started unfolding.

One layer at a time.

She let him see the stretch marks, the trauma, the insecurities.

Let him hear the story behind her hustle.

“You ever been loved out loud before?” he asked one night, after cooking for her and playing Jhené on vinyl.

“Like… the kind of love that don’t ask you to shrink?”

She froze.

Because no… she hadn’t.

But with him, it felt possible.

And the first time they made love?

It wasn’t rushed.

It wasn’t just sex.

It was intentional.

Truth traced her scars like they were maps.

Kissed her collarbone like it was a prayer.

Whispered, “You safe now, ma.”

And Liyah cried — just a little. But it was the kind of cry that healed.

Because for the first time in forever, she wasn’t performing.

She wasn’t pretending.

She was seen.

And damn, did it feel good.

But just when her guard finally dropped…

her past came knocking.

Dre was still watching. Still scheming.

And someone close to her was feeding him info — details only an insider would know.

Now, Liyah had a choice:

Protect her new peace or confront old demons.

Because in the game of love, lust, and loyalty —

not everybody plays fair.

⸻

“He loved the broken parts of me without trying to fix them… just held them softer.”

Chapter 8: Pressure Makes Diamonds

Liyah never folded under pressure.

She molded it.

But this kind of pressure?

It wasn’t just business.

It was personal.

She’d built a brand out the mud.

She turned pain into power, made peace her priority, and stopped apologizing for shining too bright.

And now — someone was tryna dim that light… from the inside.

The betrayal wasn’t loud.

It was slick. Sneaky.

Dre was poppin’ up in places he had no business being.

Saying things only someone in her inner circle could’ve told him.

At first, Liyah thought it was Kayla again —

but Kayla was blocked so deep she couldn’t even Google her anymore.

Then she checked her group chat.

The “Real Ones 💎” thread.

The people she trusted.

She didn’t say anything. Just dropped a fake detail. Something only someone close would know.

Two days later?

That same detail showed up on Dre’s little fake burner page.

Gotcha.

It was Nisha.

Her so-called homegirl.

The one who clapped the loudest in her comments, but stayed a little too quiet in person.

The one always asking, “So how much money you really making?”

“She must’ve forgot I pay attention,” Liyah whispered to herself.

She didn’t confront Nisha in public. That’s not how queens move.

She invited her to lunch — somewhere chill, neutral, private.

When Nisha sat down, Liyah didn’t even smile.

“You ever think about how snakes move?” she asked calmly.

Nisha blinked. “What?”

“They don’t hiss anymore. They blend in. Act like they got love for you.”

Nisha started stuttering.

But Liyah just slid her phone across the table.

Screenshots. DMs. A whole map of disloyalty.

“You ain’t have to sell me out to feel valuable.

You just had to step your own game up.

But instead, you became a fan in disguise.”

Nisha tried to apologize.

Tried to flip the guilt.

But it was too late.

“Loyalty ain’t tested when everything good.

It’s tested when the pressure hits.

And you cracked.”

Liyah walked out without another word.

Blocked. Deleted. Moved TF on.

The betrayal stung — but it reminded her of something important:

Pressure doesn’t break diamonds. It exposes the fake ones.

She went home, put her phone on Do Not Disturb, and curled up next to Truth.

He looked at her like he already knew.

“You good?” he asked, rubbing her thigh.

She nodded.

“Yeah. Lost another snake. Gained more space.”

And in that moment, she didn’t feel broken.

She felt lighter.

Because peace don’t come from who stays around —

it comes from who you’re strong enough to let go.

⸻

“You tried to hurt me, but you just made me stronger. Pressure never scared me — I was born in it.”

Chapter 9: The Glow-Up Is Personal

Liyah always had that it factor.

Even on her worst days, she walked like she knew something the world didn’t.

Because she did.

She knew who she was becoming.

And now?

That glow-up hit different.

Not the surface-level kind.

Not the lashes, the bundles, or the drip — even though that stayed on point too.

This was the kind of glow-up that came from doing the inner work.

The type that made people whisper when she walked in rooms.

“Damn, she really made it happen.”

Her new business?

Boomin’.

She dropped a rebrand with her signature fire: clean, sexy, and unapologetically Black.

Every post hit like gospel — real talk, raw hustle, and receipts to match.

Her bookings doubled.

Collabs started rolling in.

A celebrity even reposted her quote on Instagram — with credit.

Her inbox? Full.

But her standards? Higher than ever.

She started saying no with ease.

No to free labor.

No to energy vampires.

No to “Can I pick your brain?” from folks who never supported her.

Because Liyah wasn’t desperate for attention.

She was committed to purpose.

And Truth?

Still by her side, still ten toes down.

He didn’t get insecure when she outshined.

He shined with her.

“I don’t wanna be the man in front of you,” he told her.

“I wanna be the one standing beside you when they crown you.”

She didn’t need a savior — but it felt good to have a partner who didn’t compete.

Her kids?

Thriving.

Happy.

And watching their mama become a damn force.

The people who used to throw shade?

Now screenshotting her.

Trying to mimic her blueprint — forgetting that Liyah is the blueprint.

And while they watched?

She worked.

Focused.

Quiet.

Strategic.

The glow-up wasn’t about revenge.

It wasn’t to prove anything to the people who doubted her.

It was personal.

She did it for the version of her that cried in silence.

For the mama who wanted to give her kids more.

For the girl who once forgot she was powerful — and needed to remember.

⸻

“I didn’t level up to be liked. I leveled up so I’d never have to beg for respect again.”

Chapter 10: When the Past Comes Back (Final Chapter)

It was one of those rare quiet nights.

The kids were asleep.

The house smelled like eucalyptus and cocoa butter.

Liyah was on the balcony, robe on, glass of wine in hand, edges laid, heart still healing — but whole enough to protect.

Her phone buzzed.

Blocked number.

She stared at it, then let it ring out.

Another buzz. This time, a text.

“I was wrong. Can we talk?”

She didn’t need to see a name.

She felt it — that ghost from her past.

Dre.

The man who broke her, blamed her, betrayed her.

The same man who didn’t fight for her, but now wanted a second chance at a battle he never showed up for.

Truth came outside and sat next to her, his energy always gentle, never pressed.

“You good?”

She nodded, phone still in her hand.

“Yeah. Just a shadow trying to catch some of my light.”

He smirked, proud of her calm.

“You want me to say something?”

“Nah,” she said, sipping slow. “Sometimes silence is the best revenge.”

Truth leaned over and kissed her shoulder — soft, secure.

“Say less.”

Because he knew:

Liyah wasn’t the same girl Dre played with.

She was a woman reborn.

⸻

Liyah didn’t respond to the message.

She didn’t need closure from a man who couldn’t handle her growth.

Instead, she opened her Notes app.

Wrote something for herself.

“He didn’t deserve the woman I became.

And I’m done apologizing for surviving everything meant to break me.

I gave love. I gave fire. I gave grace.

Now I’m giving it back to myself.”

She posted it.

No tags. No shade.

Just truth.

Within minutes? Viral.

Again.

But this time, it wasn’t just the internet watching.

It was every girl who’d ever been left behind and still chose to rise.

⸻

The next morning?

Liyah woke up to the sun peeking in through silk curtains.

Her kids laughing in the kitchen.

Truth playing music while flipping pancakes.

Her phone full of opportunities, her heart full of peace.

And she knew…

This was it.

Not a fairytale.

Not a fantasy.

A real woman’s ending.

She didn’t get the prince.

She got the partner.

She didn’t escape pain.

She turned it into power.

She didn’t seek revenge.

She chose to glow.

And that?

Was the baddest move of all.

⸻

The End.

“You watched me fall, now watch me reign. And this time, I’m not sharing the throne.”