“I ain’t never believed in no fairytales, Aku. I come from a place where love either died young or get buried in silence. But then you came around - Loud…Brilliant…Complicated as hell, and now I’m stuck thinkin’ maybe I was wrong.”
“I ain’t got all the answers. I still wake up mad at myself for shit that happened years ago. I still check the doors twice before I go to sleep. Still move like the past could slide back up on me at any moment. But you…you the only thing that ever made me feel like gravity might not be a curse. Like maybe bein’ pulled down ain’t always a bad thing. Maybe it just mean I finally found somethin’ worth stayin’ grounded for.”
“So if you ever feel lost…if you ever wonder if you matter…scan this again. I’ll be right here… Fallin’…Still...”
click
Aku cupped her mouth, crying silently. “Thank you God…thank you.”
chapter 27
. . .
A few days later.
Malik sat on the back patio of the mansion, a thick blanket draped over his legs even though the sun was warming the Earth just fine. His body was still catching up. The pain came in waves—deep in his ribs and shoulder—but he was used to pain.
What he wasn’t used to was this kind of calm silence.
French was standing a few feet away, arms crossed, jaw locked, watching the trees like they were supposed to answer something. It was just them - no buffer…no Aku…no Solar, just two men who’s love and pride came to blows the last time they spoke, now surrounded by stillness so loud it hurt.
“I ain’t gon’ sugarcoat shit.” French’s face scrunched, madder than he’d ever been. “You got my baby pregnant and almost got her killed, so you already know how I feel.”
Malik didn’t flinch. “I know.”
French turned his head slowly, eyes sharp enough to cut. “Then explain to me why I shouldn’t still wanna whoop your ass for what you pulled her into.”
Malik sat up straighter, pain flashing in his eyes, but he didn’t let it show. “Because I love her,” he said. “I ain’t pull her into shit. She ain’t a passenger in her own life.”
“She was better off before you,” French snapped.
“She was lonely before me,” Malik shot back.
French’s lip curled. He stepped forward. “You really think you gon’ get smart with me in my house, son?”
“I’m not your son,” Malik said, eyes hard. “But I respect you. I respect what you built. I respect the way you love her. I’m tryna do the same.”
They stood in the tension, neither one backing down.
“I almost lost her,” French said, voice lowering but still full of anger. “And I wasn’t gon’ let her run off and get herself killed behind some love story that sound good in theory, but got too many bodies attached to it.”
Malik didn’t blink. “You ever kill for love?”
French paused.
Malik leaned forward just slightly. “You ever have your whole block turn on you ‘cause you finally found something worth walking away for? I ain’t perfect. I know what come with me, but I’d die behind her, and I almost did.
French’s jaw tightened. “That’s the problem.”
“No,” Malik yelled, voice steady. “That’s thetruth.” He exhaled slowly, wincing a little as his ribs shifted. “I wanna marry her.”
That made French’s eyes narrow.
Malik held his gaze. “I don’t want her walking around with my baby in her belly and not my last name. She deserves to be a wife before she’s somebody’s Mama.”
French didn’t say anything at first - just looked at him…deep, like he was trying to figure out what kind of man really lived in Malik’s skin.
Finally, French sat down in the chair across from him. Rested his elbows on his knees, and rubbed his hands together once. “She always did want a fairytale,” he muttered.
