“My Mama and Daddy never said a word…still don’t know I know.” She shook her head slowly. “I decided not to bring it up. ‘Cause it don’t change nothing. French been my daddy since birth. Signed my certificate. Loved me like I came from him…still do.”
Malik studied her now, the room a little tighter. “Why you tellin’ me this?” he asked, voice low.
She hesitated, then said, “To show you I ain’t as clean as you think I am.”
“You ever gon’ bring it to them?”
“No,” she said, plain and honest. “He my daddy— period. No need to shake my family up with some shit that don’t even matter to me. I been his - got the love, got the memories, got the photos to prove it.”
Malik let that sit.
“You ever feel like the truth don’t matter as much as the people who stayed?” she asked.
“All the time,” he nodded, and it came out rough. “I had love once. Not the sweet kind. The kind that drag you down with it, changed everything about me. Made me pick up shit I swore I’d never touch. Walked into rooms I ain’t come out the same from.”
He didn’t say a name…didn’t need to.
Aku heard the weight in his voice and knew.
“She the reason you so guarded?” she asked.
He nodded, slowly. “Her and the Crescent.”
“What happened to her?”
“She still alive. I loved her more than I loved myself - that’s what happened.”
The silence cracked with that confession. It was the kind that exposed old bruises under new skin.
“I used to think I was broken,” Aku whispered, “for feelin’ too much. For wantin’ more when I already had everything. But hearing you... It makes me feel… not so alone.”
“You never alone with me,” he promised. “Even when I’m fucked up.”
Aku didn’t say anything for a moment… just breathed. Her silence didn’t feel like distance—it felt like listening.
Malik leaned forward, elbows on his knees, the weight of everything pressing on his spine. The Crescent…that girl…Pharoah…his own guilt…her.
“I don’t got no fairytales to give you Dorothy,” his voice came out low but loaded. “I ain’t come with no white horse. I ain’t even come healed. But I swear to God…”
He sat back, head against the wall, staring up at the paint-chipped ceiling.
“I wanna love you so bad that I get mad at my own fuckin’ heart when it skips a beat. Like—why you folding on me, cuh? Stay solid,” his voice cracked into a whisper. “Because every time I hear your name, shit shifts - the earth moves…every time you breathe on the line, I forget what I was angry about.”
Aku closed her eyes. The heaviness of his truth sinking deep into her chest.
“I wanna love you so bad it scares me,” he went on. “Like I’m outside my body, watchin’ me hand my soul over and hopin’ you know how to hold it. Hopin’ you ain’t like the rest. Hopin’ you don’t let me drown in my own silence.”
She exhaled shakily, hand on her chest. Her throat burned as tears filled her eyes.
“I think about you when I wake up, when I eat…when I hear certain beats. You in my blood now, not just my bed. And I hate it ‘cause I ain’t never planned to feel this deep. All I know is I’d rather risk it all than play it safe and miss this.”
He paused, gulping down his own emotions. “Shit, now I’m soundin’ like a simp.”
Aku smiled into the phone, eyes glistening. “No, you sound like somebody who finally stopped runnin’ from what he deserves.”
chapter 18
. . .
