Page 131 of My Only

I let out a frustrated groan, rubbing both hands down my face.

The worst part?

As much as I wanted to fight what he was saying, I couldn’t. Because deep down… I already knew it was true.

Everything was too much.

I had to be at work soon—probably late again—and I’d have to stay even later to fix the design flaw I’d been struggling with for days. I hadn’t really spoken to my wife since she told me she wanted out of our marriage. I felt like I was failing at everything.

I had driven all the way to Long Island City to get advice from my father, and he wasn’t even giving it.

“I can’t tell you what to do,” he repeated. “But I can tell you this—fight for your forever.”

I locked eyes with him.

“Fight for your wife the way you fight for this damn project. I see you sacrificing everything to make sure it’s running well?—”

“Even the project is driving me half-crazy, Dad,” I mumbled. “For real, man. Shit.”

My dad stopped and stared at me for a few beats. Then he closed the space between us and took me by the back of my head. He leaned his forehead against mine and that was all I needed to release the tension in my shoulders. My dad gave me a few seconds before lifting his head to press a kiss to my forehead. He patted my shoulders twice then stepped back.

I took a deep breath, trying to inhale courage.

“You’re experiencing a shift, and that’s okay,” he assured me. “But while you’re killing yourself over Greene Gardens, make sure you’re tending to your own garden.” His voice deepened. “You must protect your marriage, Hassani. You must. That’s the only way you’ll keep it. There’s no other way, son.”

I swallowed hard, letting his words sink in.

He was right.

I had been pouring all my time and energy into work—into making sure this project was successful—but I had forgotten balance. I promised myself I would balance. I promised Ayla.

I nodded, my voice hoarse. “Aight.” I cleared my throat. “Aight.”

And just like that, the advice I was looking for was right there in my father’s last few words.

You must protect your marriage, Hassani. You must. That’s the only way you’ll keep it.

Tonight, I was going home to my wife.

Tonight, I was fixing this.

I pushed the side button on my phone, lighting up the screen.

I sighed.

Kissed my teeth.

Then dropped my head back between my shoulders.

Though I was late getting into the office, I wasn’t late enough to justify still being here at 8 p.m.

This damn design flaw had me stuck.

Again.

I’d been staring at the blueprints since morning, honestly, since Harper pointed it out days ago, but something about it just wasn’t adding up.

I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my eyes. My brain was a split battlefield—half of it still stuck on my father’s words earlier, the other half stuck on these goddamn blueprints.

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