Didn’t raise his voice.
Didn’t argue.
He just turned his head slightly toward me.
Studied me.
Like he’d been doing for years.
“Zacian takes over.”
Silence.
Not the kind that waits for a response.
The kind thatendsconversations.
My father stood up so fast his chair scraped against the floor.
“He’s not ready. He’s emotional. Reckless. Still thinking like a boy.”
I let him finish.
Let him get it out.
“And you thinking like a nigga that already lost.”
His eyes snapped to mine.
My grandfather’s gaze didn’t move from me.
“He’s already doing what you should’ve been doing,” he said calmly.
Another nail.
“You just didn’t see it.”
My father laughed.
But it wasn’t funny.
“You letting Yuna influence you,” he said, looking at me like he was trying to find something to grab onto.
“Watch how you speak on my family.”
My voice stayed low.
Flat.
That was a warning.
He felt it.
Because he didn’t say her name again.
My grandfather stood up.
That was it.
