“Come sit with me,” I said, patting the couch. “Dinner should be here soon. I ordered from that Thai place you like.”
He settled onto the other end of the couch, pulling his knees up to his chest. For a moment we just sat there in comfortable silence, the evening light filtering through the windows, the house quiet and peaceful.
I missed Prime. He’d only been gone a day, but his absence felt like a physical thing—an empty space where his warmth should be. He’d called earlier, told me he was handling some business but didn’t go into details. I didn’t ask. Some things I was better off not knowing.
But God, I wished he was here. Wished I could curl up against him and let him rub my feet and tell me everything was going to be okay.
Soon, I reminded myself. He’d be home soon.
My phone buzzed. The food was here.
“Can you get the door, baby? I don’t think I can get up right now.” I gestured at my belly, which had officially taken over my entire body. “Your cousin is using my bladder as a pillow.”
Yusef actually laughed—a real laugh, not just a polite exhale—and headed for the door. I watched him go, marveling at how far he’d come. Six months ago, he wouldn’t have answered the door for anything. Would’ve hidden in his room, terrified of who might be on the other side.
Now he was grabbing the food from the delivery guy and making small talk about the weather.
My baby was healing. Slowly, imperfectly, but healing.
We ateon the couch because I couldn’t make it to the dining table. Pad thai for me, drunken noodles for him, spring rolls to share. Some reality show played in the background, neither of us really watching.
“This is good,” Yusef said between bites. “Better than last time.”
“Right? I think they changed their recipe or something.”
We ate in easy silence for a while. I was so used to the quiet with him that I almost didn’t notice when he set down his fork and turned to face me.
“Auntie Z? Can I talk to you about something?”
I set my own food aside, giving him my full attention. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”
He was quiet for a moment, like he was gathering his thoughts. His fingers picked at the hem of his shirt—an old nervous habit I recognized.
“Ever since… everything that happened,” he started slowly. “With Nigel. And after that. Being taken. All of it.” He swallowed hard. “I feel like I haven’t had any freedom. Like I went from one cage to another to another.”
My heart cracked. “Yusef?—”
“I’m not saying this is a cage,” he added quickly. “I love living here. I love you and Uncle Prime. This is the safest I’ve ever felt in my whole life.” His eyes met mine. “But I’m still… trapped. In a different way. I can’t go anywhere by myself. Can’t do anything without someone watching me. And I get it—I know why. After everything that happened, everyone’s scared something bad will happen again.”
“We just want to protect you, baby.”
“I know.” He nodded. “But I’m tired of being scared all the time. I’m tired of feeling like I can’t breathe unless someone’s holding my hand.” He sat up straighter, and I saw something in his face I hadn’t seen before. Determination. “I want to start being normal again. Or at least try.”
I didn’t know what to say. Part of me wanted to wrap him in bubble wrap and never let him out of my sight. He’d beenthrough so much—too much—and the thought of anything else happening to him made me physically sick.
But another part of me knew he was right. I couldn’t keep him locked up forever. That wasn’t protection—that was just a different kind of prison.
“What are you asking for?” I said carefully.
“I want to go to the mall tomorrow. By myself.” He held up his hands before I could protest. “Just for an hour. That’s it. I want to buy something for the baby—a little gift, from me. And I want to do it on my own.”
“Yusef…”
“Please, Auntie Z.” His voice was steady, but I could see the vulnerability underneath. “I need to prove to myself that I can do this. That I’m not broken. That the world isn’t just full of people waiting to hurt me.”
I stared at him for a long moment. This boy who’d been through hell and back. Who’d been silent for months, trapped inside his own head. Who was finally, finally starting to find his voice again.
And here he was, asking for one hour. One small act of independence. One chance to feel normal.
