Page 47 of My Only (My First, My Last)

H assani

I stood at the back patio door, staring out at the lake in front of me. The water lay still, but the trees standing tall in the distance swayed with the gentle breeze. The infinity pool sparkled ahead, and I just knew Ayla would flip when she saw how much it resembled the one in Saint Lucia.

Ding-dong!

The doorbell ringing pulled me from my thoughts. I turned on my Jordans and headed for the door. When I pulled it open, two movers stood on the other side. Behind them, another mover was lifting the gate at the back of the truck.

“Hassani Franklin?” one of the movers asked.

“That’s me.” I smiled. “How y’all doing today?”

“Good, good.” The mover nodded. “I’m Tony, and I’ll be handling the move today with my guys. Are you ready for us?” He smiled next. “We’ve got all the furniture for the rooms ready to unload and set up.”

“Music to my ears, man.” I stepped back, opening the front door wider. “Go for it.”

It was move-in day for the summer villa—the one that had once existed only as a vision and as unfinished sketches in my sketchbook.

“We’ll start with the living room,” Tony said, directing the other movers on where to place the couch for Ayla’s and my living room set. “Do you have an idea of how you want things arranged?”

“I’ve got something better.” I reached for my sketchbook, which was lying nearby, flipping it open to the page with the living room layout Ayla and I had worked on together. “This is exactly where everything should go.”

Tony’s blue eyes widened as he glanced at the sketch, then back at me. “Did you draw this ?”

I nodded. “I did. I’ve been sketching this for a really long time.”

“ Damn . You an artist or something?”

“An architect,” I replied proudly. “I designed the properties in this neighborhood—including the one we’re standing in right now.”

His jaw dropped. “Get out of here!”

“Hey, Tony,” one of the other movers called behind him. He and another mover held part of the sectional Ayla and I ordered. “Where we putting this, boss?”

Tony shook his head, snapping out of his awe, then chuckled. “ Uh …” He glanced at the sketch again before turning to the mover. “Right here.”

His reaction was one I’d grown used to since the start of Ayla’s and my summer home project. I had been here for every step of the build, checking in on the progress daily after work and spending weekends with Ayla overseeing details when she was off from school.

I watched as the movers carried in our furniture, setting the pieces down—the side tables in the living room, our king-sized bed in the master bedroom. Then, I stepped outside onto the patio, letting them do their thing.

So much had changed in a year.

A year ago, I didn’t know if I’d ever get the chance to build this villa, let alone stand on its patio.

My mind drifted back to the day I came here, when this spot was nothing but dirt and rocks.

I had prayed on this very soil, asking for the chance to make my wife happy again, to live the life we had always dreamed of.

I smiled, pressing my hand against the patio railing, my eyes following the gentle ripples on the lake. The tranquil waters, as Ayla called them.

And in that moment, I realized something.

God had answered every single one of my prayers.

Even my wish for a baby… the one I had whispered in a new prayer the moment Ayla told me she wanted one.

I rubbed my hands together absentmindedly, wringing them a little before pressing a hand to my chest, a nervous tick I’d developed lately.

Ayla was pregnant.

And while I was excited as hell, I was nervous, too.

I wanted this. God knew I wanted this . But more than anything, I wanted to be a great father. I had one, and my life had been blessed exponentially because of how great my dad is. I wanted to be that for my son, too.

I had cried that January morning when Ayla’s pregnancy test came back positive. Cried even harder when the doctor confirmed we were having a boy months later. And while I was thrilled, I couldn't shake the fear of the unknown.

The only thing that kept me from worrying too much was Ayla.

She was made to be a mother.

She had always loved children—babysitting as a side hustle back in high school, being the kind of teacher her preschoolers adored. I knew she would excel at it.

But me?

I had designed homes. Built entire communities. But I had no blueprint for fatherhood.

What if I messed this up?

I knew figuring it all out would be an adventure. But I looked forward to embarking on that adventure with Ayla. Plus, there wasn’t a single day that went by when she didn’t reassure me how amazing of a father I would be.

And whenever I thought about her confidence in me, my anxiety always faded.

She had always been supportive, even as I worked toward becoming the principal architect of the Greene Gardens Project.

Speaking of which, things had been running smoothly at work since Harper was long gone.

Issues were minimal, and whenever one did pop up, resolving it was never stressful. My team was excellent, and we were far ahead of schedule.

Harper didn’t quit like Bryant had hoped, but she was out of our hair like he promised. I rarely thought about her anymore. She was just a name in my past, where she belonged.

Greene Gardens was now open to new residents and business owners. There was still plenty of work left to do, but so far, everything looked beautiful.

It was exactly what I had envisioned with my team. What I had envisioned myself .

I turned to look inside the house through the patio’s glass doors, my heart swelling with excitement.

The movers were placing brand-new furniture exactly where it belonged, Tony glancing down at my sketchbook and pointing out placements based on what Ayla and I had mapped out.

Life was unfolding exactly how I had imagined.

The only thing missing in this house was my wife. My friend. My Ayla.

My eyes moved around the exterior of our summer home, taking it all in. I had nailed every detail, making it look like an exact replica of the villa she loved so much.

She had one week left in the school year. After that, she’d be on summer break, free to spend all her time here—or as much as she wanted

I let my eyes drift over the property again, imagining it full. A home alive with love, laughter, and more than just Ayla and our son.

Because I wanted a big family.

And I knew Ayla did, too.

I wanted to give her everything she had ever dreamed of.

She deserved it. We deserved it.

And now, finally , we had it.

* * *

Ayla

I aimed my camera, adjusting the focus before pressing the shutter button.

A warm breeze lifted the hem of my summer dress, brushing against my knee as I relaxed on the patio lounge.

It was my first late afternoon at our summer home.

Ever since touring the property on the day the movers arrived, I had been counting down the days until the school year ended.

I ran a hand over my growing belly and smiled.

Our baby boy was in there, nice and comfy.

At my last doctor’s appointment, Dr. Whitfield had joked that this time last year, she had said a little prayer for Hassani and me to give her a baby to deliver this year.

She’d get her wish this October.

I glanced down at the LCD screen on my camera, admiring the shot I had just taken.

Then, lifting the camera again, I adjusted the focus and waited for the blur to settle before pressing the shutter button once more.

Last year, at this time, I was telling Hassani I wanted a divorce.

A divorce.

I shook my head, inhaling deeply.

The thought flashed in my mind, intrusive, like an unwelcome guest trying to ruin a perfect moment.

Then, Harper’s name crept in, threatening to stir emotions I didn’t want to entertain.

But before I could spiral, I closed my eyes and followed my therapist’s advice.

“I acknowledge this memory, I accept that it happened, and I send it away with love,” I whispered.

The weight of it lifted, slowly at first, then all at once.

When I opened my eyes, I was met with the breathtaking view before me.

Serenity.

Love.

When Hassani first brought me here, I couldn’t believe my eyes.

I couldn’t believe that ever since we had returned from our honeymoon in 2017, he had been quietly sketching his own version of the Saint Lucia villa we had stayed in.

It seemed neither of us had wanted to forget our time there.

And instead of wishing and hoping to return, we now had it.

Our summer home—a perfect replica of the Saint Lucian villa, complete with an infinity pool that offered the illusion of it spilling into the lake.

Lifting my camera again, I moved it around, searching for my next shot.

Incorporating photography lessons into my preschool curriculum this past school year had been one of the best decisions I had made.

My babies at school had loved it.

Every morning, as soon as their little feet stepped into my classroom, they would ask if we could start taking pictures.

I already missed them.

School had only just let out, but I was already making mental notes to include photography in my curriculum again next year—right before I left for maternity leave.

I was so excited to be a mother.

Sunni had already put together a gift registry for me and was planning my baby shower.

She told me to leave it all to her.

I wouldn’t.

But I loved knowing she was there for me, like always.

She had been one of the people who had encouraged me not to be afraid of love.

And I was so grateful to have such a solid sisterhood with her.

I watched as the clouds shifted over the water, a soft, lazy dance against the sky.

Then, in a whisper, I spoke into the quiet.

“Life is good.”

And with that, I pressed the shutter button.

I caught sight of Hassani as he stepped out of the house and walked over to one of the lounge chairs, sinking into it with a sigh.

Smirking, I lifted my camera, aimed it at him, and pressed the shutter button.

He playfully struck a model pose, making me laugh.