Page 62 of Rose

“She’s my daughter. Well… what I imagined her to look like,” Ahzii whispered, her voice tight as she wiped at the tears forming in her eyes.

Savior stared at the painting. The baby looked like Ahzii had been carved into a smaller, gentler version of herself.

“She’s beautiful… just like her mother.”

Ahzii smiled, but it faltered. “Only if she didn’t live in a painting.”

Savior stepped closer, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her into his side. “She lives forever in your heart, Allure.”

She rested her head against his shoulder. “In that house—” she began, the words she had been too afraid to share finally at the edge of her tongue.

But before she could continue, a voice cut through the air.

“Rose!”

They both turned.

Keon stood a few feet away, smiling as he approached. Savior dapped him up before they embraced.

“You came!” Ahzii said with genuine surprise and joy.

“How could I miss the showcase of the artist who changed my life?” Keon said, eyes full of pride. “I’m glad to see the inspiration is back, and you stepping back into your purpose.”

Ahzii’s smile softened into something warm and real. “Thank you. It’s been a while… but I’m glad to be back.”

“We’re glad to have you back.” Keon nodded. “I just came to say hello. Let me go pick a piece to buy before someone else beats me to it.”

“You do that,” Savior joked. “And make sure it’s the most expensive one. You good for it.”

Laughter followed as Keon walked off, blending into the sea of admirers, while Ahzii looked up at Savior again.

For a moment, it felt like peace was real. Like maybe, just maybe, she could breathe again.

“What were you saying, Allure?” Savior asked, turning his full attention back to her, his tone soft with curiosity.

Before she could respond, Taylor appeared beside them with a bright smile and a mic in hand.

“It’s time for your speech.”

Ahzii inhaled slowly, offering Savior a half-smile as she grabbed the mic. “I’ll tell you after,” she promised, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips before following Taylor toward the small stage set up at the center of the room.

She stepped up beside A’Mazi, her heels clicking softly against the wooden platform as the low hum of conversation died down around her.

“Good evening, everyone,” she began, her voice echoing softly through the room. All eyes turned toward her—family, friends, her man, strangers who became supporters, and the very people who had witnessed her rise from the rubble.

“It’s been a while since I’ve done this, so… bear with me.”

A light chuckle rippled through the crowd, easing the tightness in her chest. She took another breath and continued.

“First, I just want to thank y’all for being here tonight. This showcase… Rose ... it’s not just a name. It’s my story.

“My brother and I—we didn’t grow up with much. The streets raised us. Some nights, we starved. Some nights, we ran. But we always had each other. And we always had our art.

“Art was our voice when we had none. Our shelter when the world gave us none. It was the only thing that didn’t ask for perfection, just honesty.”

Her voice began to waver, but she pushed through.

“Life burned me. Over and over again. It took people I loved. It scarred me—physically, emotionally. But somehow… even in the ashes… there was always paint. A pencil. A blank canvas waiting to hear me breathe.

“Art is what pulled me out of the dark. It’s what reminded me that I was still here. Still worthy. Still—”

Her words caught. She blinked. Once. Twice. There. Near the back of the crowd. A man. Not just any man.

Him. William.

Not a hallucination. Not paranoia. Not some ghost from her trauma playing tricks on her.

This was real .

His smile cut through the crowd like a blade—gentle, familiar, cruel. The world didn’t stop. It got louder . Her breathing hitched. Everything blurred.

“Shug… you good?” A’Mazi whispered, glancing over and catching the tear that slipped down her cheek. He followed her gaze but saw nothing. No one.

Ahzii stepped back from the mic. Her hand trembled as her heart pounded like it wanted to break free from her chest.

Without a word, she turned and rushed off the stage.

Gasps and murmurs followed her as she shoved past the curtains and down the hallway. She burst into the bathroom, bracing the edge of the sink, her breaths ragged and uneven.

“Get it together,” she whispered to herself, voice cracking. “He’s gone. He’s gone .”

But her reflection said otherwise. Hollow eyes. Haunted stare. Because deep down… part of her wasn’t so sure anymore .

Ahzii rushed inside one of the stalls, legs pulled to her chest, trying to convince herself that what she saw wasn’t real. Her hands trembled, clutching the sides of her dress, nails digging into the fabric.

Suddenly, the bathroom door creaked open, then clicked shut with a solid lock .

She barely registered the footsteps.

“Beautiful…” a familiar voice echoed, soft, deep, and laced in something that sent a chill through her.

Her breath caught.

“No. No, it’s not you. It can ’ t be you,” she cried through clenched teeth, her voice muffled by the metal walls.

“Open the door,” he said calmly.

Something in her body moved before her mind could stop it. She stood on autopilot, unlocked the latch, and slowly pushed the door open—

And there he was.

William.

He didn’t look burned. Didn’t look wounded. Didn’t look like death had ever touched him. He looked just like the man she said I do to. The man she once laid beside, dreaming of a forever that never came. Something about him had changed—sharper eyes, a weight in his presence—

But it was him.

It was really him.

Before she could even process the storm raging inside her, her body moved. She threw her arms around him, pulling him into a trembling hug, her breath collapsing in his neck.

“Hey, Beautiful,” he whispered, kissing her lips as if no time had passed.

For a second—just a second—she melted.

But reality came crashing back like cold water.

“No… no. Sorry. I—I’m with someone. I—I can’t—” she stammered, eyes wide, backing up like she was trying to physically distance herself from the chaos in her chest.

“I know, baby.” William’s voice softened. “I can’t stay. I have to go.”

He looked over his shoulder toward the locked door, where someone was now trying to push it open.

“Why?” she asked, her voice cracking as fresh tears trailed down her cheeks. Her hands reached for him, fingertips brushing his chest. “ Why now? ”

“Ahzii!” Kyre’s voice rang from outside, urgent.

William pulled a folded note from his pocket, placing it in her palm. “Meet me at this address tomorrow at 3. I promise I’ll explain everything.”

Then, one last kiss—quick, gentle, final.

“Wait!” she cried, reaching for him.

But he was already halfway out the window.

“Allure!” Savior’s voice boomed from the other side of the door.

“I love you, Beautiful. See you soon,” William said before vanishing into the night .

Ahzii stood frozen, clutching the note as if it was the only thing keeping her upright. Her heart thudded against her ribs, her breath shallow and broken. She looked down at the address written in neat script. Her hands trembled.

“Baby, please open the door!” Savior called out again, his voice layered in panic.

Snapping back to reality, Ahzii quickly wiped her tears, shoved the note deep into her clutch, and stumbled to unlock the door.

The moment it opened, Savior rushed in, his arms immediately wrapping around her. Kyre followed, concern written all over her face.

“I’m okay,” Ahzii whispered before they could question her, her voice barely holding together. “I promise.”

But Savior wasn’t convinced. “Who was in here? I heard a voice. Who were you talking to?”

Ahzii shook her head, eyes wide with practiced denial. “No one. It was just me.”

Savior scanned the bathroom. It was empty. Still, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What happened?” Kyre asked, a growing panic behind her words.

A’Mazi stepped in just as Ahzii drew a shaky breath.

“Savior, can you get the car?” she asked, her voice firmer now. “I’m ready to go.”

He hesitated, but nodded and left to pull the Escalade around.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Ahzii turned to Kyre and A’Mazi, her expression raw.

“I’m going to ask y’all this once, and I need the truth,” she said, voice low. “Is William still alive?”

Kyre’s brows furrowed. “What?”

“Is his body lying in that gravesite next to my daughter?”

Kyre opened her mouth, unsure how to answer. “No... the police said they couldn’t recover the body. It was burned beyond recognition. But he’s dead. Right, A’Mazi?”

Ahzii turned to her brother.

A’Mazi nodded slowly. “Yeah. When I pulled you out that fire, his body was next to you. He wasn’t breathing, Shug. That nigga’s dead. Why are you asking me this?”

“I have to go,” Ahzii said, brushing past them.

“Wait—what’s going on? Ahzii!” Kyre called, grabbing her arm.

But she didn’t respond. She couldn’t.

Her legs moved before her mind could catch up, carrying her out of the bathroom without another word to either of them. The air outside the door felt heavy, her chest tightening with each step.

She was trying— failing —to wrap her head around it.

Seeing her dead husband alive and well was already enough to rattle her soul, but hearing both Kyre and A’Mazi confirm there had never been any physical evidence of William’s death? That stripped away the last thread of denial she had.

What she saw wasn’t a vision.

It wasn’t her grief playing tricks.

It was real .

She needed to get out. Out of the building, out of the noise, out from under the crushing weight pressing on her ribs. She needed air before her heart caved in completely.

By the time Savior pulled the car around, she was already halfway down the block. She climbed in without looking back, without offering an explanation—not now, not here.

Behind them, the showcase was still in full swing, lights glowing against the night, music spilling into the street. But to Ahzii, the celebration felt galaxies away.

Nothing was making sense anymore.

And somewhere out there, in a black suit and a kiss that still lingered on her lips, a love she’d mourned in ashes had just reappeared… breathing.