Page 86 of I See You

“Good seeing you again, Roman,” she said smoothly as she walked past him.

Roman’s smirk widened, his eyes dancing with amusement. “You too, Sevyn.”

Hassan shot Roman one last look—one that was equal parts warning and irritation—before following Sevyn out of the casino. Roman just chuckled to himself, shaking his head.

They walked in silence to her car, the cool night air settling betweenthem.Hassanmovedahead,hisfingersgrazingthehandle before pulling the door open for her.

"An addictive laugh and a gentleman," Sevyn teased, a smirk playing on her lips as she stepped aside.

Hassan shook his head at her pettiness, his face unreadable but his eyes flickering with something amused, something knowing. "Get in the car, Sevyn," he said, his voice low, calm—yet still a command. He didn’t have to look at her to know his tone affected her. He could feel it in the way her breath hitched just slightly, in the way she hesitated for a second longer than necessary before moving.

She settled in, and he closed the door behind her, stepping back as she rolled the window down. Even though she didn’t say anything right away, Hassan knew she had something left to say. She always did.

"Good night, Hassan. Call me when you need to talk," she said smoothly, keeping it short, professional. But even through the formality, there was warmth there—warmth that settled somewhere deep in his chest, a place he wasn’t used to acknowledging.

He didn’t respond, just gave her a single nod before stepping back, watching as she pulled away, her taillights disappearing into the night.

Hassan wasted no time going back inside, his mind shifting gears as he prepared to handle business with Roman. But the second he walked in, he already knew what was coming.

“So… you just not gonna say shit?” Roman asked, his arms crossed, an amused look plastered across his face.

Hassan didn’t even glance at him. “Ain’t shit to say.”

Roman chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, aight.” He wasn’t buying it, but Hassan wasn’t about to entertain him either.

He ignored the conversation altogether, focusing on the matterat hand—the reason they were here this late. But despite his efforts to push it aside, Sevyn lingered in the back of his mind. The way she looked at him, the way she listened, the way she read him so damn easily.

The night they shared was brief, but different. Something he hadn’t done with anyone before. And as much as he wanted to brush it off, he couldn’t deny the way it made him feel.

Therapy might not be that bad.

Or maybe… being with Sevyn wasn’t.

???

Hassan stepped into the hospice, his movements slow, calculated, but heavy with an unspoken weight. He hadn’t been here in a few days—too caught up with business, too caught up with his own damn thoughts—but he needed to check on her.

He walked into Helen’s room, the faint hum of the television filling the silence. She was sitting up slightly, her eyes locked on the screen until she noticed him. The second their gazes met, a small smile curved her lips, weak but warm.

“Hey, Madea,” he said, his voice void of emotion, but his eyes—his damn eyes—betrayed him.

Helen’s smile widened just a little. “Hey, San.”

She motioned for him to come closer, and he did, stepping further into the room, standing beside her bed. He studied her face, noting every detail—how pale she looked, how the light in her once-sharp glowing eyes had dimmed just a little more. Today, she looked better than she had the last time he saw her, but even then, she still looked… tired. Like she was fighting a battle she already knew she wouldn’t win. And that realization? It fueled something dark inside of him. A deep, clawing anger at the fact that, for the first time in his life, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to fix it.

“I’m okay, San,” she reassured him, reading his expression like a book.

Hassan exhaled sharply, irritated. He was tired of people reading him, tired of feeling like his walls were being cracked open against his will. First Sevyn. Now her.

His jaw clenched. “Did you eat?” His tone came out low, almost scolding, like if she answered wrong, he’d tear this whole hospital apart.

Helen let out a weak chuckle. “Yes, San. They’re feeding me. Quite well, thanks to you.” She tried to joke, but he wasn’t in the mood. His face remained hard, unreadable.

Then, just like he knew she would, she brought up the one thing he didn’t want to talk about.

“Have you been looking into what I told you?” Her voice was gentle, but her question wasn’t.

Hassan sighed, already knowing she meant therapy.

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