Chapter 20 #2
Harper leaned back on the couch, her tone thoughtful.
"Oh, I was happy. I was basically an only child. It got lonely being the only kid in the house. I had gotten used to it, but when Hassan moved in, it felt like I finally had someone. Someone I could bond with. This might sound crazy, but I connected with him more deeply because... we both lost our parents. Even though Hendrix is still alive, he’s—well—he’s dead to me. "
Helen gave her a sharp look, but before she could say anything, Sevyn gently lifted a hand, silently asking her to let Harper speak. This was Harper’s space now.
“At first, I thought Hassan hated me.” Harper chuckled, but Hassan looked over at her, his face blank, though Sevyn could see the softness in his eyes.
Harper continued, “He never said two words to me. Just stared like I annoyed him. It was awkward as hell. I used to think maybe I was too much, too clingy. Until I realized… that was just him. He was like that with Madea, Roman—everybody. He wasn’t used to affection, or people trying to love him.”
"I never hated you, Harper."
The calm way Hassan said it made Harper smile instantly. "I know."
Sevyn leaned in a little. “When did you know Hassan actually loved you? Like, more than just a cousin?”
Harper got quiet. The air in the room shifted. “When he saved me.” Her voice cracked.
Sevyn didn’t need to ask—she already knew.
“Saved you?” Helen asked, her voice sharp with confusion.
Harper looked at Hassan, who sat stoic and still—but his hand reached over, grabbing hers. The gesture was silent, grounding, and filled with more comfort than a thousand words.
Sevyn’s heart melted. He’s getting soft , she thought.
"You don't have to go there," Sevyn said gently. "This is about Hassa n, and if you’re not ready to—"
"No," Harper cut in, voice steadying. “I have to. I can’t keep protecting people who never protected me.”
She turned to Helen.
"Madea… Hendrix drugged me. He tried to sell me."
Helen’s eyes widened, her hands shaking slightly. "What? No—" she began to stammer. "That’s not true."
Both Hassan and Harper gave her a look.
"It is true!" Harper snapped, now standing. The words rushed out in a flood of pain and betrayal. "He made me think he was finally being a father. The night you worked late, he cooked dinner, and put something in my drink. I was so out of it, couldn’t move, couldn’t think.
But I remember… he stripped me out of my clothes, put me in some damn lingerie, and some random woman came and did my makeup and hair like I was going on a damn date. "
Helen covered her mouth, eyes glassy with disbelief.
"He took me to a dirty-ass motel," Harper continued, voice cracking but strong. "Tried to sell me off like I was fucking property." Sevyn stayed silent, watching it all unfold. The truth was spilling, loud and messy, but it was necessary. Some healing only comes in the chaos.
Hassan's hand still gripped Harper's, and though he said nothing, his presence was loud enough to hold her together.
Helen shook her head, tears streaming down her wrinkled cheeks. “He wouldn’t... not his daughter.” Her voice cracked, desperate to deny what she’d just heard.
“He would,” Harper snapped, her voice trembling with rage.
“He said it was because I was a virgin—pure—that I’d cost more.
That he could come up big. He used his own daughter, Madea.
” Her chest heaved as the pain spilled out.
“If it wasn’t for Hassan, I’d be just like my mother—drugged, raped, and probably dead in a damn alley somewhere. ”
Helen’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.
“Your fucking son is a devil,” Harper continued, voice rising. “And no matter how much you want him to change, that’s all he’ll ever be to me. You want to know why I don’t date? Why I don’t even look at men? It’s because of him. No, I wasn’t raped, but he sure as hell damaged me!”
The words shattered the room.
Harper broke down, and Hassan stood, wrapping his arms around her, holding her like he’d done so many times before. Sevyn blinked back tears, her throat tightening at the sight of her best friend crumbling.
Helen sobbed, her body trembling as she watched her grand daughter cry in her grandson’s arms. She knew Harper wasn’t lying. And now, everything made sense—Harper’s guardedness, her rage, the walls she built.
“I’m so sorry, Hazel,” Helen finally whispered as Harper pulled away from Hassan.
“I didn’t know…” Her voice was barely audible.
Harper stepped closer to her bedside and gently took her shaking hand. “It’s not your fault, Madea.”
Helen shook her head, eyes glassy. “I should have known. Even if you didn’t say it, I should’ve seen the signs.
You weren’t eating, wouldn’t talk to me, clung to Hassan every damn second.
You went off to college and didn’t say a word for months.
The way you look at Hendrix... it’s like he’s already dead to you.
And still, I didn’t put it together. I failed you. ” She broke down again.
Sevyn took a breath and stepped in, voice soft but strong. “It’s not either of your faults. Harper, you’re not damaged. You’re just not fully healed yet—and you know what you need to do to get there.”
Harper nodded slowly, wiping her face.
Sevyn turned to Helen, her gaze soft but steady.
“Madea, you’re a strong, beautiful Black woman.
A mother. A grandmother. But even you don’t have superpowers.
We like to pretend our mothers, our matriarchs, can do it all—but the truth is, they’re human.
And as Black women, that humanity gets overlooked, dismissed.
We’re taught to carry pain like it’s nothing.
To hold families together even when we’re falling apart. ”
Helen looked up at her through tears, listening closely.
“We put this pressure on Black women to carry the world, to know everything, fix everything, see everything. I used to think my own mother had powers, the way she moved mountains alone— even with my father by her side. But now, as a grown woman myself, I realize she was just doing her best. Just like you. And taking in two kids—one who’d already lived through hell, and another born into it— that’s a heavy load.
You weren’t gonna get it all right. But the beauty of family, of motherhood, of healing—is in recognizing the trauma and doing the work to fix it before time runs out. ”
Sevyn’s voice softened even more. “Hassan told me your time is limited. And while I believe in God, more than science... I hope you use what time you have left to heal the broken places in this family.”
Helen sniffled, then chuckled through her tears. “Damn, she good.”
Harper laughed, wiping her eyes. “She got that annoying gift of making you cry and feel better at the same time.”
“Make you love her... and hate her,” Helen added.
“But you never wanna let her go.” Hassan’s voice came low, yet clear .
The silence that followed was louder than words.
Harper glanced at him, then at Sevyn, catching the look they shared.
It wasn’t just tension—it was depth. Connection.
That kind of bond you don’t build in weeks.
That kind of pull you can’t fake. Harper’s eyes narrowed just slightly, connecting dots.
The call Hassan made earlier. The apology he needed help with. So, she’s the one.
Sevyn felt his eyes on her but looked away, clearing her throat. “Well, I think we made some progress.”
The next hour flowed easily. They played games, joked, and gossiped about a messy drama series Helen and Harper had been watching. Sevyn fit into the rhythm of their family like she’d always belonged there.
Hassan didn’t say much after that—but he watched. Watched the way Sevyn laughed with his grandmother, how she matched Harper’s energy, how she made this heavy-ass day feel light again.
And with every second, he felt it. She wasn’t just his therapist. She wasn’t just a woman he craved.
She was the one pulling him back to life.
???
Hassan and Sevyn left the hospice in a thick, thoughtful silence.
The day had been heavy, full of emotion and confession, but the quiet between them didn’t feel uncomfortable—it felt full.
Weighted with things unsaid, things still being processed.
The sun was beginning to dip low, casting golden streaks across the sky as night started to settle in.
They’d been driving for a while now. Long enough that Sevyn knew they’d passed the turnoff for her place fifteen minutes ago.
“San, where are we going?” she asked, her eyes still on the window, watching unfamiliar streets blur by.
Nothing looked familiar. And though she’d spent most of her day with him, she was tired now— drained from the session, from holding back tears, from holding on to all the feelings he stirred in her.
She was hungry. Her body ached for her bed.
“My crib,” he said calmly, one hand on the wheel, the other typing something into his phone.
Sevyn turned to him with a raised brow, disbelief etched across her face. “Why are we going to your house? Take me home, Hassan. I’m tired, I’m starving—”
“You’ll eat at my place,” he cut in smoothly. “My chef’s already there cooking. You’ll sleep there too.”
She blinked, her brows furrowing. “I have work in the morning. My car, my clothes—Hassan, come on. ”
“Your car’s already at my place,” he said flatly. Her jaw dropped slightly. “What?”
“I had someone drive it over earlier. I knew if I told you, you wouldn’t have gotten in the car.”
“Hassan,” she sighed, the way only a woman who’d been played by a man she secretly adored could. “What about clothes? You expect me to go to work lookin’ like yesterday?”