Chapter 15 #4
He looked up, and his breath stalled. She’d changed—now in a black silk pajama set, the button-down shirt slightly oversized, the matching shorts hugging her curves like they were made for her. Her long hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, her face fresh and bare except for those lash extensions.
She looked even better like this. Real. Comfortable. Beautiful without trying.
His gaze followed her every step as she walked into the kitchen, the scent of her body wash and lotion wrapping around him, warm and tempting. His dick twitched with interest, a reaction he couldn’t hide even if he wanted to.
“Damn, that shit fatter in the shorts,” six-year-old Hassan whispered, grinning, reading his mind.
Hassan said nothing, just watched as she moved with that soft confidence that always managed to disarm him.
“Want some coffee?” Sevyn asked over her shoulder. “I need to calm this liquor down.”
She didn’t wait for a reply—just brought out two mugs, handing him his without a word. Black. No cream, no sugar. Just how he liked it.
She remembered. And somehow, that hit harder than the demons ever could.
She handed him the cup, and he nodded—silent, but thankful— before she sank into the chair across from him.
“So, what’s wrong, Hassan?” she asked, voice soft and steady as she took a sip of her coffee and bit into a sliced pickle.
“I know she could suck a mean dick. Them beautiful-ass lips wrapped around that pickle… got me nutting just watching,” ten- year-old Hassan muttered, twitching in his seat like he couldn't sit still with the thought.
Hassan’s glare cut sharp in his direction. Sevyn noticed, eyes following his gaze—but saw nothing. Just space.
He pulled his eyes back to her. “I’m bipolar,” he said, low.
Her brows lifted for only a second before her expression softened again, her calm never wavering.
“I sometimes black out in anger… hear voices… have hallucinations.”
It was the truth. One only his family knew. But keeping it from Sevyn felt like lying, and he couldn’t do that—not to her.
“This nigga really opening up to a bitch,” ten-year-old Hassan scoffed, smirking as he leaned back .
Hassan’s jaw ticked. Another glare. Sevyn’s eyes flicked again, sensing something. Still seeing nothing.
“Are you having hallucinations right now?” she asked, still calm.
Not afraid. Just… trying to understand.
He didn’t answer. Just stared past her. And she saw it—anger, coldness, exhaustion all layered in his eyes. But underneath it all, for the first time… sadness.
It cracked something in her chest.
She took another sip, then stood, walking toward him until she was close. Closer than she'd ever been in this kind of silence.
“When did you find out?” she asked, now sitting beside him.
His eyes didn’t meet hers. They lingered on the ten-year-old version of himself still grinning devilishly.
“Right before my eleventh birthday. A little after I killed the nigga who killed my parents.”
Sevyn didn’t flinch. Just nodded and stood in front of him, waiting until his eyes finally met hers… then dropped, slowly dragging down her body before returning to her face.
“Stand up,” she said.
And without question, he obeyed.
“Bitch,” six-year-old Hassan spat, rolling his eyes. But Hassan didn’t even blink his way this time.
“Who’s here now?” she asked gently, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“Two of me. Me at six… and ten.”
She nodded, unfazed. Up close, she could see the toll it had taken on him. The weight. The wear. The kind of tired that sleep couldn’t fix.
“Look at them.”
He turned his head, facing the bloodied versions of himself. They grinned back at him, sinister and smug.
“Now tell them to leave.”
He froze. For the first time, he hesitated. His fingers twitched. His throat tightened. That helpless, spiraling feeling clawed at his chest again—out of control, lost in his own mind, like he’d been for weeks now.
Sevyn saw it. She always saw it.
“They don’t have control over you, Hassan,” she said, voice low but firm. “You control your mind.”
It was exactly what he needed to hear. She always knew, even when she didn’t.
“Tell them to leave.”
He took a breath—deep, shaky—and stared at the demons in front of him .
“Leave.”
And the moment the word left his lips, Sevyn wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into her.
He held on, arms locking around her instinctively, clutching her like an anchor as the two younger versions of himself began to dissolve.
“We’ll be back, nigga,” ten-year-old Hassan muttered with a smirk before fading into nothing.
But for now… he was gone.
They were gone. And for once, Hassan didn’t feel so alone in the fight.
Hassan ignored him, pulling Sevyn tighter. He needed her presence—the warmth of her body, the softness of her skin, the scent of her lotion and body wash that wrapped around him like a comfort he hadn’t known in years. His tension melted slowly, piece by piece, as she rested against him.
“You are always in control, Hassan,” she whispered against his neck.
He shut his eyes, breathing her in, letting her words settle into the parts of him that always felt on edge. His grip on her waist tightened. He didn’t want to let go. His demons were gone—maybe just for tonight—but they were gone. And it was all because of her.
Sevyn pulled back gently, her arms still looped around his neck. His hands stayed firm on her waist. She looked into his eyes, and just like always, saw everything he worked so hard to hide.
“Why did they show up?” Sevyn asked softly, her eyes searching his face.
Hassan’s hands stayed firm on her waist, gripping her like she was the only thing keeping him grounded. He didn’t answer—couldn’t.
He couldn’t tell her his past was creeping back with blood on its hands. Couldn’t explain that her ex was gunning for him, building a case that could take him down. Couldn’t risk dragging her deeper into his world.
So he just stared at her.
She saw it anyway—the tight set of his jaw, the storm behind his eyes, the way he held onto her like letting go wasn’t an option.
But she didn’t push. Didn’t demand.
“Come on,” she murmured, slipping from his arms and grabbing his hand.
“Where we going?” he asked, his voice low, grounded now.
“To bed. You look drained. Exhausted. And I know you haven’t been sleeping.”
He didn’t fight her. Just let her lead him through the house, past the echo of what they’d just shared, into a bedroom that mirrored the elegan ce of her office—emerald green, gold, and white. He could tell instantly… emerald was her favorite color.
She turned to him, fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt. He raised his arms, letting her undress him without a word. His chest, carved with muscle and layered in ink, caught her eye, but she quickly looked away.
A quiet chuckle escaped him.
“The assignment tonight is to sleep,” she said, finally meeting his eyes. “You can take the bed. I’ll sleep in another room.”
His face twisted into a mild scowl as she turned to leave, but before she could walk away, he reached out and grabbed her hand.
“Lay with me.”
Even he wasn’t expecting those words.
She froze. Her shock was all over her face. “I can’t do that… Hassan.”
He understood. She was trying to keep a line intact, but they’d crossed that line a long time ago.
“We ain’t gotta touch,” he said, the words sticking in his throat. “I just need—”
He couldn’t even finish. Saying things like this felt unnatural. Like he was ripping pieces of armor off one by one. But he didn’t want to be alone tonight.
Sevyn stared at him for a long moment before sighing.
“Okay, Hassan. But stay on your side of the bed,” she warned, trying to sound firm.
It made him smirk.
They slipped under the covers, and she turned the lights off. Sevyn kept to her side, a safe distance between them. Hassan did the same, though everything in him wanted to turn toward her.
Minutes passed.
Then came the sound of her soft snores, delicate and real. It made his chest rise and fall with something close to peace.
He lay there, staring at the full moon pouring light into the room through her massive windows, its glow casting a soft silver on the walls.
He couldn’t believe where he was.
In another woman’s bed—a woman he hadn’t even touched. But one who made him feel everything.
For the first time in weeks… maybe months… sleep came easy. And it was all because of her.