Page 56

. . .

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 the truth .” 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.

Malik shook his head. “This ain’t no fairytale. But I’ll give her peace, love…a place to land when the world gets too heavy. That’s what I got to offer.”

French nodded slowly.

“You got a long road ahead of you,” he said.

“I know.”

“You gon’ make mistakes.”

“I already did.”

“You ready to lead a family?”

Malik nodded. “I was born with that weight.”

French looked away, the corner of his mouth twitching just enough to show a little respect. Maybe even pride. “That’s my baby and I’ll burn the world down for her.”

“That’s the love of my life and I’ll burn the world down to make it better for her…for my child too.”

The door slid open behind them, quieting everything else that lingered between them.

Aku stepped out in a soft sundress, her hair wild from the breeze, skin glowing from the late sun. She hadn’t said a word yet, but Malik’s eyes softened the second they landed on her.

Her belly was showing now—just enough to round the front of her dress. She stopped at the doorway for a second, her hand pressed to the side of her stomach like she wasn’t sure if it was safe to interrupt.

But Malik was already reaching for her with his eyes.

She walked over slowly, then faster, until she was in front of him. She smiled, moving out the way where his smile grew.

Myesa, Anthony, Gran Betty, and Pharaoh were there. French had sent for them knowing Malik needed his people.

The private nurse stood nearby, out of the way, but alert just in case he needed help. She agreed with him getting out the house, but wanted to stay close because his road to recovery would be long.

Aku knelt in front of him, resting her hands on his thighs like she needed to feel he was solid. Plus, physical touch was her love language. “I love you.”

“I love you too baby…so fuckin’ much.” He gently squeezed her hand, the strength in his fingers coming back more each day. “I ain’t never leaving you again.”

She nodded, but her chin trembled. It wasn’t just the pregnancy hormones that made her emotional. It was almost losing the love of her life that kept her in a constant state of heightened emotions.

Gran Betty sniffled behind them. “Whew…that baby gon’ be something powerful with all this love surrounding it.”

Myesa smiled and rubbed her shoulder. “A whole army out here for just one little soul.”

French agreed. “Hell yea.”

Anthony stood in the back, eyes misty but focused on Malik. Pharaoh sat next to him, nodding, his fingers tapping the armrest, waiting for his turn.

Malik looked around at all of them. “Thank you…for real…all of y’all.”

He was so appreciative for everyone. They loved on him, showed up for him, and he was sure they prayed for him. He knew he was still Earthside because he had a strong praying family.

“You ain’t gotta thank us,” Myesa said, “just keep waking up.”

“You real quiet,” Gran Betty added, “ain’t cussed at nobody yet. I’m lowkey offended.”

Malik chuckled softly. “Y’all done enough cussin’ for me.”

Pharaoh grinned. “You… good, cuh?”

“I’m getting there,” Malik said.

“I thought…we…lost you,” Pharoah choked on his words, his speech still jagged.

They all sat there in the quiet for a moment. Birds chirped from the trees out back. A plane cut across the sky, and the wind rustled the wind chimes near the porch swing. It was peace…real peace.

Then the screen door creaked again, and Qamar stepped out, holding a paper plate with watermelon slices and some Hot Cheetos on the side.

He didn’t say nothing at first. Just looked at Malik, then Aku, then the growing bump under her dress.

“Damn,” he said with a smirk. “Y’all made a whole baby while we wasn’t lookin’.”

Everyone laughed. The air loosened just enough for Malik to lean back again.

Qamar walked over, still chewing. “Yo, I’m happy you good.” Qamar said. “But listen…” He pointed at Malik with the watermelon slice like it was a weapon. “When you get better—I need my one.”

Malik blinked, confused. “Your what?”

“My fade, nigga,” Qamar said, straight-faced. “Heard you got to fightin’ with French and I don’t play about that one.”

Everyone burst out laughing, even Gran Betty slapped her thigh.

“Boy, go’on somewhere,” Myesa grinned.

“I’m serious,” Qamar said, backing up. “Run that back when he fully healed. I owe him that. I love French the most and when it comes to him, all bets are off, nigga.” He bit into his food again, juice dripping down his lip.

“That’s my boy,” French smiled, like the proud daddy he was. No one would ever be able to tell him Qamar wasn’t his first baby.

Malik laughed for real this time, and it settled something inside Aku that had been sitting too tight for too long.

The laughter faded, but the warmth stayed.

Myesa sat beside Malik, hand on his knee, thumb rubbing in slow circles.

Malik looked around and realized something had shifted. It wasn’t just him that had healed.

Everything felt safe like this was what life was all about—how it was supposed to be.

Aku disappeared inside and came back with a manila folder in one hand and a thick envelope in the other. She sat back down beside him, leaning close, and slid the folder onto his lap.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Everything,” she said. “Everything I made happen while you were knocked out, being dramatic.”

He smirked still weak. “You talkin’ reckless for somebody in a sundress.”

She kissed his cheek. “You woke up. You gon’ have to hear all about it now.”

He opened the folder.

Inside were two contracts. One from Jay—typed and signed. The other was from Little Lunar’s team. It was a partnership agreement. Logo drafts for a new music streaming app, a scribbled layout plan and a wire receipt.

Malik blinked. “You…closed the deal with Jay?”

“I did,” she beamed. “He flew out here. He came in the room with Bu while you were asleep. I explained everything and pitched the whole story after getting on the phone with Pharoah, told him who you are and what you built and why nobody could touch it but you.”

“You pitched Plugged In ?” Malik asked in disbelief.

She nodded. “I told him it was for us, by us, that it’s not just code…it’s Crescent Park - it’s legacy. He signed on for a profit-sharing model - full creative control stays with you.”

He looked down at the documents, eyes wide. “You serious, cuh?”

“I don’t play about you,” she cheesed, “or your future.”

Malik sat back, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe it. “And the music app?”

“Little Lunar asked for you specifically, said he didn’t want nobody else building it but ‘the hood genius from Crescent.’ I got the advance deposited in the business account I opened under your name.

I used some of it to keep Pharaoh and Quesha’s bills paid while you were down.

I sent grocery deliveries every week - covered Pharaoh’s PT. He’s got a nurse now too.”

Malik didn’t speak. His jaw clenched and he dropped his head.

Myesa caught the moment before it could fall too heavy. “You raised her right,” she told Solar, who had stepped outside and was listening from the side with French, both arms crossed.

“I’d like to think we did,” Solar beamed, chin lifted.

Malik looked over at Aku, eyes glassy. “You did all that…for me?”