Page 85 of My Sweetest Obsession

They stayed and chatted with me as if I had never left, weaving together stories and laughter that drew me away from the darker memories. Not once did they mention my kidnapping or the horrors that had transpired.

“Okay, let’s let Gigi rest,” Mya said gently.

“Ah, come on,” Tristan and Aurelio whined in unison.

“We’ll come back tomorrow and bring her a burger,” Tabi promised with a smile.

“And a shake?” Tristan asked, his excitement renewed.

Tabi laughed, ruffling his hair. “Yes, and a shake.”

The boys kissed my cheek, hugged me, and then jumped off the bed.

Liam bent down, patting my head like a playful older brother. “See you tomorrow. Get some rest.”

I chuckled and lightly smacked his hand away.

Tabi and Mya hugged me goodbye. “Text me or call me whenever. Whatever you need, I’ll get it for you,” Mya stated.

“Thanks, Mya.” I smiled back at her.

She squeezed my hand, and I held on tightly, wishing she could stay a bit longer. They trickled out of the room one by one, and I felt an ache in my chest as their presence faded.

Dante lingered by the door, looking back at me with a serious expression. “There’s one more person who wanted to say hi.”

I knew exactly who he meant and was desperate to see him again. I nodded vigorously, and Dante’s relief was palpable.

He opened the door, and Uncle Malik stepped inside. He looked better, so much better than I remembered.

“His stubborn ass wouldn’t sit in the damn wheelchair,” Dante grunted as he watched his brother take tentative steps toward me, IV pole in tow.

Uncle Malik’s hair was freshly trimmed, and his face was cleaner and sharper than it had been when I last saw him. The bruises that had once marred his skin were fading like the memories of those dark days. And the bags under his eyes were less noticeable, as if he had finally started to reclaim some peace.

I felt a deep sense of sorrow that he had been a witness to so much of my suffering. They were images he wouldn’t ever forget. The heartbreaking truth was that I was helpless to ease his despair or offer any comfort at that time.

A strangled whisper escaped my lips. “Uncle Malik.”

“Hey, kiddo,” he replied, his voice rough around the edges as if he had just finished a night of singing at a crowded concert. “How are you feeling?”

My lips quivered. “I’m hanging in there. And you?” I asked.

He hobbled over to me, positioning himself beside me on the bed, his hand enclosing mine. “I’m better now that you’re safe.”

My vision blurred with unshed tears. “I’m so happy you’re alive.”

“I’m so fucking sorry, Gigi. I didn’t keep my promise to your mother.”

“What promise?” I asked.

“To always protect you no matter what.”

My shoulders slumped. “You did protect me. What happened afterward wasn’t anyone’s fault. Please don’t carry that burden.”

“It’s hard not after what I’ve seen what…what…what they did to you,” he said, his voice breaking.

Tears welled up in my eyes, hot and heavy. I couldn’t hold them back any longer, and they streamed down my cheeks. “Uncle Malik, I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything,” he whispered, a deep earnestness in his tone that made my heart ache.