Page 163 of I See You

Harper broke down, and Hassan stood, wrapping his arms around her, holding her like he’d done so many times before. Sevyn blinked back tears, her throat tightening at the sight of her best friend crumbling.

Helen sobbed, her bodytremblingasshe watched her granddaughter cry in her grandson’s arms. She knew Harper wasn’t lying. And now, everything made sense—Harper’s guardedness, her rage, the walls she built.

“I’m so sorry, Hazel,” Helen finally whispered as Harper pulled away from Hassan.

“I didn’t know…” Her voice was barely audible.

Harper stepped closer to her bedside and gently took her shaking hand. “It’s not your fault, Madea.”

Helen shook her head, eyes glassy. “I should have known. Even if you didn’t say it, I should’ve seen the signs. You weren’t eating, wouldn’t talk to me, clung to Hassan every damn second. You went off to college and didn’t say a word for months. The way you look at Hendrix... it’s like he’s already dead to you. And still, I didn’t put it together. I failed you.” She broke down again.

Sevyn took a breath and stepped in, voice soft but strong. “It’s not either of your faults. Harper, you’re not damaged. You’re just not fully healed yet—and you know what you need to do to get there.”

Harper nodded slowly, wiping her face.

Sevyn turned to Helen, her gaze soft but steady. “Madea, you’rea strong, beautiful Black woman. A mother. A grandmother. But even you don’t have superpowers. We like to pretend our mothers, our matriarchs, can do it all—but the truth is, they’re human. Andas Black women, that humanity gets overlooked, dismissed. We’re taught to carry pain like it’s nothing. To hold families together even when we’re falling apart.”

Helen looked up at her through tears, listening closely.

“We put this pressure on Black women to carry the world, to know everything, fix everything, see everything. I used to think my own mother had powers, the way she moved mountains alone— even with my father by her side. But now, as a grown woman myself, I realize she was just doing her best. Just like you. And taking in two kids—one who’d already lived through hell, and another born into it— that’s a heavy load. You weren’t gonna get it all right. But the beauty of family, of motherhood, of healing—is in recognizing the trauma and doing the work to fix it before time runs out.”

Sevyn’s voice softened even more. “Hassan told me your time is limited. And while I believe in God, more than science... I hope you use what time you have left to heal the broken places in this family.”

Helen sniffled, then chuckled through her tears. “Damn, she good.”

Harper laughed, wiping her eyes. “She got that annoying gift of making you cry and feel better at the same time.”

“Make you love her... and hate her,” Helen added.

“Butyouneverwannalethergo.”Hassan’svoicecamelow,yet clear.

The silence that followed was louder than words. Harper glanced at him, then at Sevyn, catching the look they shared. It wasn’t just tension—it was depth. Connection. That kind of bond you don’t build in weeks. That kind of pull you can’t fake. Harper’s eyes narrowed just slightly, connecting dots. The call Hassan made earlier. The apology he needed help with.So,she’s the one.

Sevyn felt his eyes on her but looked away, clearing her throat. “Well, I think we made some progress.”

The next hour flowed easily. They played games, joked, and gossiped about a messy drama series Helen and Harper had been watching. Sevyn fit into the rhythm of their family like she’d always belonged there.

Hassan didn’t say much after that—but he watched. Watched the way Sevyn laughed with his grandmother, how she matched Harper’s energy, how she made this heavy-ass day feel light again.

And with every second, he felt it. She wasn’t just his therapist. She wasn’t just a woman he craved.

She was the one pulling him back to life.

???

Hassan and Sevyn left the hospice in a thick, thoughtful silence. The day had been heavy, full of emotion and confession, but the quiet between them didn’t feel uncomfortable—it felt full. Weighted with things unsaid, things still being processed. The sun was beginning to dip low, casting golden streaks across the sky as night started to settle in.

They’d been driving for a while now. Long enough that Sevyn knew they’d passed the turnoff for her place fifteen minutes ago.

“San, where are we going?” she asked, her eyes still on the window, watching unfamiliar streets blur by. Nothing looked familiar. And though she’d spent most of her day with him, she was tired now— drained from the session, from holding back tears, from holding on to all the feelings he stirred in her. She was hungry. Her body ached for her bed.

“My crib,” he said calmly, one hand on the wheel, the other typing something into his phone.

Sevyn turned to him with a raised brow, disbelief etched across her face. “Why are we going to your house? Take me home, Hassan. I’m tired, I’m starving—”

“You’ll eat at my place,” he cut in smoothly. “My chef’s already there cooking. You’ll sleep there too.”

Sheblinked,herbrowsfurrowing.“Ihaveworkinthemorning. My car, my clothes—Hassan, come on.”

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