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EGYPT

T he energy in the conference room at the network headquarters felt different today—warmer, quieter. Like everyone was trying to savor something they knew was ending.

Me, Serenity, and Averi sat across from a long wooden table, sunlight pouring in through the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the studio lot.

Our reps were seated alongside the show’s executive producers, writers, and publicists, though the vibe was still professional, there was a hint of melancholy beneath the surface.

“This isn’t just a press run,” said Sandra, one of the lead show runners. Her voice cracked slightly before she cleared her throat. “This is the final bow. The goodbye to something none of us will ever truly forget.”

We nodded, each of us absorbing that in our own way. Serenity crossed her arms gently over her chest, her lips pursed as if she was keeping emotions in check. Averi blinked rapidly, like she might cry, and I just stared ahead, heart full but heavy.

“We want to go big,” said Greg, the head of publicity. “We’ve locked in Good Morning America , Kelly and Mark , Fallon , Kimmel , and we’re waiting on confirmation for The View .”

“Damn,” Averi whispered with a small smile. “Y’all not playing.”

Sandra chuckled. “No, we’re not. This show changed the game, and the world fell in love with the three of you. We want to give fans the farewell they deserve.”

“And SNL?” Serenity asked. “Is that real?”

Greg smiled. “Lorne confirmed this morning. All three of you will be co-hosting and performing. It’s historic. A farewell to The Coven —the magic, the sisterhood, the legacy.”

I bit my lip, trying to keep my expression neutral, but inside, I was bubbling with pride. SNL. That wasn’t small. None of it was.

“Are there expectations for skits?” Averi asked, ever the writer-producer now. “Or will that be handled by their writing team?”

“They’ll write around you, but we’ll have input,” said Sonya, who was mine and Averi’s manager. “And your stylists and glam teams will travel with you throughout. We want the chemistry to remain tight. If any of you need extra support, say the word.”

The room grew quiet again, the kind of silence that comes when words feel too small.

“It’s been almost a decade,” Sandra said softly, looking at each of us in turn.

“We watched you grow up on this set. We watched your lives shift, your art sharpen. Egypt, your vocals? I still remember the first time you sang on set, and we all looked at each other like, Oh, she’s different.

Serenity, you choreographed that entire coven ritual scene in season two—on a twenty-minute break.

Averi, your monologue in season five had crew members crying behind the cameras. ”

“Don’t make me cry,” Averi muttered, wiping under her eyes.

“I just…” Sandra shook her head and looked down at her notes. “We love y’all. And while this is the end of The Coven , it’s not the end of your stories. This press run is going to be huge. And emotional. And beautiful.”

There was a second of silence again, but this time none of us fought it. We let it settle.

I finally spoke. “We appreciate everything, really. This show changed my life.”

Serenity nodded. “Mine too.”

Averi sniffled. “It gave us a sisterhood off-screen that’s gonna last forever.” Everyone in the room seemed to exhale at once.

“Alright,” said Greg, standing and clapping his hands once. “Let’s get to work. We’ll send you detailed itineraries, wardrobe schedules, and social strategy by the end of day. But block out three and a half weeks starting next Monday.”

“I gotta call Royal,” Averi muttered.

“I gotta tell Nasseem,” I added quietly.

“Y’all gonna be okay being away from your men that long?” Serenity smirked. “I’m a little used to it by now.”

“I am. Royal has been on tour for weeks I’m a little used to it.” Averi replied.

“No,” I said honestly. The room erupted in laughter, but for me, it was a nervous laugh.

Because I wasn’t sure how okay I’d be. Not just from being away from Nas—but from being away from the quiet I’d been clinging to.

The healing I hadn’t yet finished. Still, I nodded.

“It’s go time.” And just like that, we began the farewell.

That night, we were on the couch after dinner. Nas had one arm around me, the other hand absently rubbing his healing side. He didn’t talk about the pain much, but I could tell it lingered. Sometimes I caught him wincing or zoning out mid-sentence.

“I got something to tell you,” I said, twisting a little so I could face him better.

He looked at me immediately, eyebrows raised. “What’s up?”

I took a breath. “ The Coven’s wrapping promo for the final season. Serenity, Ave, and I just had a meeting about it earlier today. They want us in New York next week. It’ll be a few weeks of press—talk shows, interviews, and get this…we’re co-hosting SNL .”

He smiled at that, proud, but it faded when he caught the look on my face. “Uh oh, what’s that look for?”

“I don’t wanna leave you,” I said. “You just started walking around more, you’re still healing. I just—I don’t feel right being gone for that long.”

He turned to face me fully, pressing his palm gently to the side of my face. “E,” he said quietly. “Stop worryin’ about me, baby.”

“But I?—”

“You need this. You need something that ain’t about pain.

Ain’t about me gettin’ shot or us losin’ our baby,” he said, voice thick.

“You need to go out there and be Egypt. Let ‘em know who the fuck you are again.” His words made my chest tighten, but not in the painful way. Still, I didn’t say anything right away.

“I been thinkin’,” he added. “When you get back…we should both try therapy. For real.”

I looked at him in surprise. “You’d do therapy?”

“For you? Hell yeah. For me too, if I’m bein’ honest.” He shrugged. “I ain’t really been okay since everything went down. But I’m tryna be.”

I leaned forward and kissed him softly. “Okay,” I whispered. “When I get back, we’ll set something up.”

A few days later, the smell of roasted garlic and thyme hit my nose the second we walked through the front door of our friend’s home.

Creed and Serenity’s home always felt warm.

Not just because of the candles she had burning in every damn room, but because of what it represented—stability, family, peace.

I hadn’t realized how much I needed this space until I stepped into it again.

I glanced at Nasseem, who gave me a small smile as we kicked off our shoes at the entry.

Giovanni’s voice rang out from the kitchen, followed by Cree’s laughter. It made me smile for the first time today without it feeling forced. “Uncle Nas!” Giovanni came flying out the kitchen like a little rocket. “You better be ready to play 2K tonight cause I been practicing!”

Nas chuckled, as he dabbed Gio up. “You still trash, little man. Practicing don’t change that.”

Cree followed behind her big brother; eyes wide as she caught sight of me. “Auntie Egypt! I like your hair.”

I bent down and gave her a tight hug. “Thank you, baby. You get taller every time I see you.” Next, I gave hugs to Bryce, Braden, and Alani. All three of them looking equal parts of their mama and daddy.

Serenity appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. “About time y’all showed up. Dinner’s almost ready. Y’all good?”

I nodded, shooting her a small smile as she wrapped me in a hug. “We’re good.”

Creed was at the stove, seasoning something like he was auditioning for MasterChef. “Yo! You better be glad I’m still cheffing for you, Nas. You gon’ owe me after this meal.”

“Bet. I’ll throw in some extra push-ups next time I work out,” Nas shot back, easing onto one of the kitchen stools.

Dinner was laid out like a damn Thanksgiving spread, blackened salmon, mac and cheese, baked chicken, roasted garlic veggies, and a salad I knew none of us were touching unless it was the last thing on the plate.

As we all gathered around the dining table, Serenity passed out plates while Alani climbed into my lap, hugging me close. I kissed the top of her head, heart fluttering. I was always good with kids, but lately... it was harder. The weight of what I lost sat heavy in my chest.

“You alright?” Nas murmured in my ear, eyes on me like I might shatter.

I nodded, forcing a smile for him. “I’m good.” I could tell he didn’t believe me, but he didn’t push.

“Yo,” Brodie said, leaning back in his chair as he dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. “Can we talk about how y’all really gon’ be on SNL though? That’s wild.”

Averi grinned, sitting across from me. “It still doesn’t feel real. But it’s happening.”

Creed looked over at Nas. “You gon’ survive without Egypt for a few weeks, man?”

“I’ll manage,” he replied, reaching for my hand under the table. “I got Gio to keep me busy.”

Giovanni perked up, “We can practice boxing again! You can show me the combo you did before your last fight.”

Nas smirked, “If your moms let me, bet.”

Serenity laughed. “You can show him some light moves, but don’t have him trying to spar in school again. We already had a parent-teacher call.”

“That was once,” Gio said with a mouthful of mac and cheese. “And he had it coming.”

“Okay, young champ,” Arielle said from the other end of the table. “Violence is never the answer...but sometimes it’s necessary.” Everyone cracked up, and for a second, the heaviness I’d been carrying lifted.

Serenity reached across the table; her voice softer now. “E, how you holding up? Really?”