She stepped back, eyes flashing. “You think that’snormal, Malik?! Getting jumped, ending up in the hospital…that’s not life. That’s survival on repeat. You so used to trauma, you tryna gaslight me into thinking it’s just another Tuesday.”
“I ain’tgaslightin’ you,” he said, the edge in his voice coming quick. “You knew what it was when you pulled up to Crescent. Ain’t shit changed. I ain’t grow up behind no damn gate.”
Her body stiffened. “So that’s what this is? You mad I had a family who gave a fuck?”
Malik sat up a little, wincing. “I’m sayin’ you don’t get it. You got a village. I got a hood and a hustle. You can’t fix that with a hug and a trip to Whole Foods.”
“Then what was that, that just left, huh? I see a fuckin’ village…people that care about you.” She stepped closer, voice trembling. “You got an app changing lives and you still out here fighting niggas in the street like you worthless.”
He looked away, jaw tight. She was right, but he wasn’t trying to hear it right now ’cause she didn’t get it.
He wasn’t fighting for validation. He was fighting ‘cause that’s what the Crescent taught you—you fight, or you fade. Somewhere deep in his bones, Malik still believed that peace wasn’t made for people like him. That if you survived long enough, it meant you were supposed to suffer longer too. His life wasn’t designed for comfort. It was designed forendurance.
He rubbed his hand down his face, wincing as his fingers brushed the bandage near his temple. She was still staring athim, breathing heavy, waiting for him to say something that made sense…something thatmattered.
But all he could think about was the sound of his Mama crying over his body in the driveway. The look on his Pops’ face like he wanted to go back to the man he used to be, just to protect his son. Gran Betty whispering prayers in the street like she knew this city had its hands around his throat and was just waiting to squeeze tighter.
So, he said nothing, just looked away ‘cause he couldn’t face her…couldn’t face his truth.
“You so smart, you dumb,” she whispered.
He flinched, the words hitting deeper than her tone.
Aku choked on her breath. “I flew out the moment I heard. I left my Daddy crying and my Mama packing snacks just to be here…and you joking about my shorts?”
Silence stretched between them.
When she turned to leave, Malik didn’t stop her…he didn’t even call her name.
She stormed past his parents in the hallway, eyes blurry, chest breaking open.
“Aku,” his Daddy called, grabbing her arm gently.
She paused, swallowing her sob.
“I know my son,” he said calmly, voice low and seasoned. “I know what he capable of and what he scared of. And I know you see somethin’ in him, we been prayin’ he sees in himself. But listen to me, baby?—”
She looked at him, tears sliding down both cheeks.
“You can’t want nothin’ for somebody more than they want it for they self.”
Her shoulders dropped.
“But he want it,” Anthony said, voice and spirit hopeful. “He just don’t know how to say it…or chase it. That boy want you,want out, want more—but he too scared to admit it. He just ain’t got the tools yet.”
Aku nodded once, wiping her face with the back of her hand.
“I’mma stay close by,” he added. “Just in case you decide to come back.”
She didn’t say anything ‘cause she needed some air.
Instead, she turned the corner, her heart loud and cracking in her chest like glass under boots, wondering how much more gravity she could fall into before it broke her completely.
chapter 19
. . .
Floorfourteen of the Barnette Building. The sunlight spilled in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, shining over the vintage rugs and velvet chairs that looked like they were stolen from a movie set.