Page 48 of Rose
“I’m okay.”
Ahzii’s voice was calm, too calm.
But everything about her—the blank stare, the tight jaw, the heaviness weighing down her limbs—said otherwise.
And she knew Taylor saw it too.
Taylor wasn’t just her assistant. Not really.
She was family now.
They met years ago during one of Ahzii’s art showcases in the city. Taylor had shown up wide-eyed and quiet, completely captivated by Ahzii’s work. Turns out, she was an artist too—young, gifted, and already creating magic with nothing but tattoo ink. Ahzii had admired her pieces instantly. There was something raw and hauntingly beautiful in them, something that reminded her of herself at that age.
Taylor was only twenty-three now, juggling med school on the path to becoming a medical scientist while still showing up at the shop with creative brilliance and steady hands. She was a walking contradiction—science and art, soft and steel—and Ahzii hadn’t hesitated to offer her a high-paying position when she found out she needed work.
Because talent like that? It deserved room to breathe.
Even after everything—the blood, the trauma, the darkness Ahzii tried to hide—Taylor still looked at her like she was legendary. Like she hadn’t lost pieces of herself along the way.
That alone made Ahzii feel seen in ways she didn’t know she still needed.
She sat up slowly, eyes sweeping the space.
“You seen my phone?”
“Yeah, it was ringing off the hook,” Taylor replied from the kitchen, voice slightly muffled as she poured a glass of orange juice. “Kyre and Maz been blowing it up since last night. Kiyan too. And honestly? I’m surprised about him after the way you cussed him out.”
Ahzii sighed, guilt curling in her chest.
“I wasn’t trying to listen, but girl, you were going in,” Taylor added with a small laugh. “I put your phone on the charger so you could sleep. You came in so shaken up last night… we ate, chilled for a bit, and then you crashed like you hadn’t slept in days.”
She hadn’t.
And knowing Taylor saw that—saw her unravel like that—made her skin prickle. She hated feeling exposed. Vulnerable. Weak.
Right now, she needed a blunt more than she needed breakfast. Weed was the thing that ever muted the storm inside her, along with sex.
“I’m sorry…” Ahzii started, but Taylor spun around and cut her off with a look.
“You don’t owe me an apology.”
Her tone was gentle but firm. “I might not know everything you’re battling, but I know you’re carrying something heavy. You work nonstop, you never rest, and you pretend to be okay when you’re clearly not. I don’t know what triggered you last night, but I’m glad you came here. That means something.”
She walked closer, her eyes softening.
“I know I’m just your assistant or receptionist or whatever… but you’re like a big sister to me. And I want to be here for you the way you’ve always been there for me.”
Ahzii gave a faint smile, something tired but real flickering in her expression.
“Thank you, Tay. For everything. And you’re notjustanything to me—youaremy little sister.”
Taylor’s smile broke wide and warm, and she took a sip of her juice as she spoke again.
“Speaking of sister… I think you should call Kyre and Maz. They were worried sick. I figured you didn’t want them knowing where you were last night, but I texted them from your phone and told them you were safe, just needed space.”
“I’ll call them,” Ahzii murmured, finally pulling herself off the couch. “I need to head home anyway. I know Ace is probably losing his mind wondering where I’m at.”
She glanced down at herself, realizing she was still wearing the same clothes from the night before.
