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The nigga didn’t take the beating lightly. He shot up the block two weeks later. Malik and Pharaoh were chilling the steps while Jules had just walked back from the store.

After that, nothing was the same.

Quesha stopped smiling like she used to.

Malik stopped sleeping.

Pharoah stopped coding.

Jules stopped living.

And Bren grew up loving an uncle that took her daddy away before she was even born.

Malik came back to the moment, his chest rising heavy like the past had punched him in it.

“I did love you,” Malik muttered. “Shit, I loved you so hard I ruined everything around me just to prove it.”

Quesha looked away, eyes glossy. “Then what happened?”

“You know what happened,” he glared, daring her to take a walk down memory lane. “We ain’t make it. We broke each other down so far we forgot how to be whole.”

She sniffed, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “You look whole now.”

Malik exhaled through his nose. “That’s ‘cause I’m finally tryna be.”

Then he turned and walked out without another word because talking to Quesha never did any good. It always took him back to the night when he took Bren’s daddy out—the night he had to get his get back because they shot up the place, leaving Pharoah in a wheelchair and Jules dead.

Bren was back on the couch, juice box in hand, leaning against Pharoah’s wheelchair, humming to herself like nothing was wrong. Like Crescent hadn’t already sunk its claws into her little world.

Malik tossed the money envelope onto the coffee table without looking back. That was for Pharoah’s therapy.

Then he walked out the door, stomach heavy, eyes burning, one step closer to change—but still not all the way there…not yet cause Crescent still had it’s claws in him too.

Another night on the phone with Aku. He could hear her breathing but it was drowned out by the screams of Pharoah and Jules’ Mama…screaming from the porch, screaming inside the ambulance, screaming at the church, and prayers that turned into wailing.

Malik sat in his bed. It creaked under him, everything felt hollow. “I can’t sleep,” he mumbled into the phone.

Aku’s voice came in soft. “What happened?”

He didn’t say anything, just gripped his head trying to calm his brain.

“Malik?” Aku’s voice drifted through the speaker, laced with concern. “You still there?”

“Yea,” he murmured, “still here.”

“You been quiet.”

“I been thinkin’.”

“About?”

He paused, letting the silence crawl before saying, “About how shit don’t really change. You can write code, build somethin’ that could change lives. But you still gotta go back to the same four blocks where dreams die every day.”

He exhaled the breath he’d been holding since he left Pharoah’s.

“Earlier I saw this lil’ girl— my niece--real smart, full of mouth.

Whole face looked like somebody I used to know - same nose…

same eyes. She threw up a set like it was a magic trick, said her Granny taught her.

Had on light-up sneakers while throwin’ up a gang sign.

I couldn’t breathe for a second. Like, really couldn’t breathe. ”

Aku didn’t interrupt. She just let him go.

“And her mama…she laughed like it was cute,” he added. “Like it was somethin’ to be proud of. Like teachin’ a baby how to bleed early makes you real.”

Aku sighed, “That shit hurts, huh?”

“Hell yea.” His voice cracked a little. “It fuckin’ hurts bad because I wouldn’t want this for my seeds.”

Aku wanted to take away his pain, but knew she couldn’t. Instead, she decided to reveal her own stuff. “You wanna know something I’ve never said out loud?” she asked.

His jaw tensed. Then he nodded once. “Yea.”

She sat up straighter, eyes never leaving his. “French ain’t my real daddy.”

Malik blinked. “What?”

She gave a short laugh, like the truth still tasted strange on her tongue.

“Found out when I was sixteen. Some random ass DM on Instagram, from cousins I ain’t know I had, said their Uncle Drew was my real dad, told me he and his brother Dan Dan got killed, and that supposedly… my family had somethin’ to do with it.”

Malik’s brow lifted. “Damn…”

“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.”