Page 160 of Falling Into Gravity

“I’m getting there,” Malik said.

“I thought…we…lost you,” Pharoah choked on his words, his speech still jagged.

They all sat there in the quiet for a moment. Birds chirped from the trees out back. A plane cut across the sky, and the wind rustled the wind chimes near the porch swing. It was peace…real peace.

Then the screen door creaked again, and Qamar stepped out, holding a paper plate with watermelon slices and some Hot Cheetos on the side.

He didn’t say nothing at first. Just looked at Malik, then Aku, then the growing bump under her dress.

“Damn,” he said with a smirk. “Y’all made a whole baby while we wasn’t lookin’.”

Everyone laughed. The air loosened just enough for Malik to lean back again.

Qamar walked over, still chewing. “Yo, I’m happy you good.” Qamar said. “But listen…” He pointed at Malik with the watermelon slice like it was a weapon. “When you get better—I need my one.”

Malik blinked, confused. “Your what?”

“My fade, nigga,” Qamar said, straight-faced. “Heard you got to fightin’ with French and I don’t play about that one.”

Everyone burst out laughing, even Gran Betty slapped her thigh.

“Boy, go’on somewhere,” Myesa grinned.

“I’m serious,” Qamar said, backing up. “Run that back when he fully healed. I owe him that. I love French the most and when it comes to him, all bets are off, nigga.” He bit into his food again, juice dripping down his lip.

“That’s my boy,” French smiled, like the proud daddy he was. No one would ever be able to tell him Qamar wasn’t his first baby.

Malik laughed for real this time, and it settled something inside Aku that had been sitting too tight for too long.

The laughter faded, but the warmth stayed.

Myesa sat beside Malik, hand on his knee, thumb rubbing in slow circles.

Malik looked around and realized something had shifted. It wasn’t just him that had healed.

Everything felt safe like this was what life was all about—how it was supposed to be.

Aku disappeared inside and came back with a manila folder in one hand and a thick envelope in the other. She sat back down beside him, leaning close, and slid the folder onto his lap.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Everything,” she said. “Everything I made happen while you were knocked out, being dramatic.”

He smirked still weak. “You talkin’ reckless for somebody in a sundress.”

She kissed his cheek. “You woke up. You gon’ have to hear all about it now.”

He opened the folder.

Inside were two contracts. One from Jay—typed and signed. The other was from Little Lunar’s team. It was a partnership agreement. Logo drafts for a new music streaming app, a scribbled layout plan and a wire receipt.

Malik blinked. “You…closed the deal with Jay?”

“I did,” she beamed. “He flew out here. He came in the room with Bu while you were asleep. I explained everything and pitched the whole story after getting on the phone with Pharoah, told him who you are and what you built and why nobody could touch it but you.”

“You pitchedPlugged In?” Malik asked in disbelief.

She nodded. “I told him it was for us, by us, that it’s not just code…it’s Crescent Park - it’s legacy. He signed on for a profit-sharing model - full creative control stays with you.”

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