Page 5 of Certified Pressure 3 (Certified Pressure #3)

The House of Eternity

Two weeks later…

Standin’ over my son’s small, gold casket broke a nigga all over again.

I thought I had cried all my tears when we left that hospital, but seein’ him like this made my chest cave in.

The casket was perfect, tiny but regal, polished so bright it caught every light in the room.

They had the lid open just enough for me to look down at him wrapped in the whitest silk, a crown embroidered on the fabric so clean it looked like it belonged to a king.

He was barely the size of my forearm, and that was the part that fucked me up the most. My boy didn’t even get the chance to breathe on his own, but I made sure if he had to go, he went like royalty.

The place wasn’t no church and it wasn’t no funeral home either.

Pops made sure of that. He told me my son deserved better than a regular service, so they built this whole scene inside a hall that looked like somethin’ out the movies.

It had floors so smooth you could see your reflection in them, gold pillars stretchin’ up to the ceiling and stained glass windows glowin’ even though the sun outside was hidden behind clouds.

It felt sacred, like walkin’ inside a temple where only gods and kings belonged.

They called it The House of Eternity, and that name sat heavy on me ‘cause it was true.

My son was gone forever, and all I had left was this moment to tell him goodbye.

I stood at the front with Ka’mari right beside me.

She was leanin’ into her mama’s arm, lookin’ smaller than I’d ever seen her.

Two weeks ago she had some weight on her, carryin’ my boy in her stomach, but now her frame looked fragile, like a gust of wind could knock her down.

The bags under her eyes told the story of nights without sleep, and her lips was dry from cryin’.

She held herself like if she let go, she would fall apart right there.

And the crazy thing is, I couldn’t fix it.

I couldn’t buy her no gift, I couldn’t make no promise, I couldn’t protect her from this pain.

The only thing I could do was hold her hand and stand tall so she knew I wasn’t goin’ nowhere.

Pops was on my other side, his hand on my shoulder.

He didn’t say nothin’, but he didn’t have to.

Just feelin’ the weight of his arm told me he understood.

My father had always been bigger than life, but in that moment he was just a man standin’ next to his son, knowin’ there wasn’t no amount of money or power that can protect you from buryin’ your child.

Mama stood close too, her fingers laced through mine for a second, squeezin’ like she was tryin’ to give me some of her strength.

Her perfume lingered in the air and it reminded me of all the times she patched me back together when I was younger.

I never thought I would be standin’ here as a grown ass man, needin’ her comfort like I was still a boy, but I did.

Ka’mari’s father was there, stiff as always.

He looked right at me and gave me a head nod, like that was supposed to mean somethin’.

I stared past him like he wasn’t even in the room.

Nigga never liked me, and truth be told, I ain’t give a fuck.

He could think what he wanted, but this wasn’t about him.

This was about my son, and if he couldn’t respect that, then fuck him.

Ka’mari’s mother cried soft, her hand runnin’ up and down her daughter’s back, whisperin’ things I couldn’t make out.

I wasn’t mad at that. She loved her daughter, and I couldn’t take that from her.

The choir started singin’, voices risin’ through the hall like a hymn sent straight to heaven.

I pulled my shades down lower over my eyes, not ‘cause I wanted to hide, but because I needed somethin’ between me and the world.

People was watchin’, and I wasn’t about to break down in front of everybody.

I could feel the sting in my eyes though, burnin’ like a fire I couldn’t put out.

I leaned forward and touched the casket, runnin’ my fingers over the gold. “Lil Prince,” I whispered, my voice rough. “Daddy love you, forever.”

Ka’mari broke right then. Her knees buckled, and I had to grab her so she didn’t hit the floor.

She cried so loud it made my heart hurt.

Her body shook in my arms, and all I could do was hold her tight, whisperin’ her name, tellin’ her I got her.

She kept sayin’ his name, “Kamir,” over and over like if she said it enough times, he would come back.

The pastor spoke, sayin’ words about life and death, about how even the smallest souls have purpose, but my ears tuned half of it out.

All I heard was Ka’mari’s cries and the sound of my own heartbeat poundin’ in my head.

I wanted to punch somethin’, break somethin’, anything to get this pain out, but I couldn’t.

I had to stand there and let this shit eat me alive.

When it was time to close the casket, I thought I was ready, but the second the lid came down, I felt my heart fold in on itself.

That was my boy. That was my blood, and just like that, I wasn’t gon’ see his face again.

I pressed my lips together so hard they almost bled.

Pops tightened his grip on my shoulder. Mama leaned her head against my arm.

Ka’mari buried her face in her mother’s chest. The room blurred around me, and I don’t even know how I stayed standin’.

They didn’t bury my son in the ground. I wasn’t lettin’ that happen.

Instead, they placed the casket inside a crystal tomb built into the wall, surrounded by carvings of angels and lions, with light shinin’ down from above like the sun itself was watchin’ over him.

It looked like a castle for the smallest king, and that’s what I wanted.

My son wasn’t gon’ rest in no dirt. He was gon’ rest in somethin’ sacred, and eternal.

I pressed my hand against the glass one last time, leavin’ my fingerprint there before they sealed it.

When the service ended, me and Ka’mari walked out together.

I felt eyes on me from every direction, but I didn’t meet nobody’s gaze.

Her father was standin’ by the exit, and he tried to nod again.

I walked right past him like he was invisible, my hand locked with Ka’mari’s.

I wasn’t wastin’ no energy on a nigga who never gave me none.

We stepped into the car, the driver closin’ the door behind us.

The ride back to the mansion was quiet. Ka’mari leaned her head on the window, tears slidin’ down her face.

I held her hand the whole time, my thumb rubbin’ over her knuckles even though she barely responded.

I wanted to say somethin’, but the words wouldn’t come.

There wasn’t no sentence strong enough to fill that silence.

When we finally got back, the house felt colder than it ever had before.

I led Ka’mari upstairs to my room. She moved slow, her heels clickin’ against the marble, her body heavy like she was draggin’ all the grief in the world with her.

Once we got inside, I reached to help her out of her dress, but she shook her head, puttin’ her hand up to stop me.

Tears were rollin’ down her cheeks nonstop.

She kicked her heels off, climbed into the bed, and curled into a ball like she was tryin’ to disappear inside herself.

Her sobs filled the room until eventually they turned into the sound of her breathin’ uneven in sleep.

I stood there lookin’ at her, feelin’ more helpless than I ever had in my life.

I could buy diamonds, I could build empires, I could make niggas bow down to me, but I couldn’t take her pain away.

I couldn’t bring my son back. I sat down on the edge of the bed, my hands coverin’ my face, my whole body heavy.

For the first time in a long time, I felt powerless, and that was the shit that kept cuttin’ me the deepest.

Trill-Land, Jungle Estate

It had been months since me and Ka’mari lost our son and I was still tryna figure out how to breathe right without feelin’ like I was dyin’ every time I closed my eyes.

Some days I thought I was gettin’ better, thought I could walk around my own house without hearin’ Kamir’s name echo in my head, but then somethin’ would hit me—Ka’mari cryin’ in the middle of the night, an empty crib I had sent back to the warehouse, or just silence too loud for me to handle, and I’d realize I was lyin’ to myself.

That shit broke us in ways I didn’t even know we could break.

Ka’mari wasn’t the same no more. She moved around like a ghost, driftin’ in and out my place like she ain’t even know if she belonged here.

She ain’t eat much, she didn’t smile, and most of the time she avoided lookin’ me in my face.

I let it slide ‘cause I knew grief looked different on everybody, but somethin’ in my spirit had been buzzin’ for weeks, tellin’ me somethin’ wasn’t right.

She kept disappearin’ for hours, sayin’ she had errands, then comin’ back lookin’ pale and jumpy.

I noticed her eyes red some nights from cryin’.

And then I started thinkin’ about lil’ shit, like how she hadn’t said nothin’ about her period, how her body looked different when she changed clothes and how she kept holdin’ her stomach without even realizin’ she was doin’ it.

I ain’t gon’ front. My gut told me she was pregnant again.

My heart wanted it to be true, even if I knew that would scare the hell outta Ka’mari.

I ain’t even know if I was ready for another baby, but the thought of it gave me somethin’ to hold on to.

Somethin’ that felt like maybe God ain’t hate me as much as I thought He did.