Page 69 of Free to Fall

My knees buckled and I slid down the side of the house, burying my face in my hands. I didn’t know how long I sat there. But eventually, the sound of the door sliding open brought me back to earth.

“Egypt?”

His voice was hoarse.

I turned quickly, wiping my face. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“I was. But you weren’t next to me, so…”

He limped toward me slowly, favoring his injured side. “You alright?”

“No,” I whispered. “But I will be.”

He nodded, then knelt beside me with a wince, his arm going around my shoulder. I let myself fall into him, burying my face in his chest. We didn’t say much else. We didn’t need to. He knew. And in that silence, under that moonlight, I started to believe we could find a way forward. One day at a time. Together.

It’d only beena few weeks since we came home from the hospital, but it felt like months. Time was slow. Heavy. Like every breath I took had to be carried by force.

Nasseem was still healing, still moving a little stiff, still sleeping more than he liked. Creed had been stopping by every other day, making sure Nas had someone to help with the small things when I couldn’t. But today was the first time I really planned to leave the house.

And I didn’t want to.

“I’ll be fine,” Nas said gently, like he knew the words before I could say them. “Creed gon’ be here any second. You don’t need to babysit me.”

“I’m not babysitting you. I’m just—” I sighed, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder. “I don’t feel right leaving.”

“You need it,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. His voice was low, tired but strong. “I hear you at night, E…when you think I’m sleep.” I froze in place. He continued, not letting me run from the truth. “You try so hard not to cry around me, I get it. You don’t wanna make it worse. But that shit... it’s already worse. You don’t gotta carry all this alone.”

“I know,” I whispered, eyes burning.

“I don’t think you do.” He looked at me, those deep brown eyes filled with something raw and aching. “I see you movin’ through this house, doin’ everything but feelin’ it. I ain’t sayin’ go fall apart in front of everybody, but damn baby…let it out somewhere.” His words hung in the air like incense smoke—thick, lingering, hard to ignore. “Go to the studio,” he said, nodding. “You ain’t been back since...”

I bit the inside of my cheek and nodded. “Alright.”

“I love you,” he said, reaching for my hand. “Don’t forget that shit.”

“I love you too.”

I leaned down to kiss him softly, his hand resting over mine for just a second longer than it needed to.

Then I left.

I didn’t callmy engineer. I didn’t text Averi, didn’t bring my assistant. I just showed up. The studio felt like a second skin, worn but comforting. My key still worked, and no one was scheduled after six, so I knew I’d have the whole place to myself. I didn’t even stop in the main lounge. Just walked straight to the Aaliyah booth, slid my bag off my shoulder, and closed the door behind me.

It was time.

The words had been sitting inside me for days, crowding my chest. I opened my phone, went to the notes app, and scrolled through the lines I’d been piecing together in between breakdowns and deep breaths. My fingers trembled as I opened a blank project, laid down the chords, and turned the mic on.

The track was raw. Just a piano, ambient reverb, and my voice.

I held you in silence, just under my ribs

Dreamed of your laughter, but never heard it

Built you a future, mapped out your name

But life ain’t fair, and grief got no shame

I was a mother, even if just for a while

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