Epilogue #3
Five hours later, we welcomed our handsome son, Imanio Zaire Kors Jr., who was born with thick, dark curls framing his tiny face and let out an angry little cry that echoed through the room, just as I imagined.
It was crazy how much he resembled Imanio.
His lips were full, his nose was slightly upturned, and he had that same unmistakable “I run everything” expression like his daddy that instantly made him both terrifying and adorable.
Imanio had been right by my side through the entire labor, gripping my hand tightly and trying his best to coach me through every contraction.
But the truth was, he was panicking, too.
I could hear him whispering quiet curses under his breath, his grip tightening as he squeezed his own thigh as if absorbing my pain.
Thankfully, my mom was also there, providing invaluable support.
Her calming presence made a world of difference.
She offered the encouragement I desperately needed during those exhausting hours.
I found an unexpected depth of gratitude for her at that moment, recognizing how much her support meant to me.
Tears glistened in her eyes as she marveled at her new grandson. My dad leaned in over her shoulder, completely silent but attentive, as if he were trying to memorize every wrinkle on his face and the soft sounds of a newborn's breath.
They weren’t perfect parents—at least, not where it concerned me—but they were here now, ready to love and support this new life. Maybe, just maybe , they would be better grandparents than they had ever been in any other role.
Imanio and I chose to keep me being in labor a secret until after the baby was born.
So neither Dessign nor Chi had a clue what was happening.
As soon as the baby and I were settled, I snapped a picture and sent it to Dessign.
I didn’t even bother with words—the photo said it all.
I knew it wouldn’t be long before my phone lit up, and sure enough, five minutes later, an incoming facetime call with Dessign’s name flashing across the screen told me exactly what I already knew…
the storm of questions was about to begin.
I weakly tapped to answer, still sore and floating somewhere between exhaustion and disbelief.
“Hey, sis,” I said, voice raspy and soft.
Instead of Dessign’s face, Chi’s appeared on the screen.
“Let me see my nephew or I’m calling CPS because ain’t nobody told me a damn thing!” Chi joked.
I chuckled, trying not to laugh too hard through the soreness.
“I step out to make a few calls, apply light pressure, and remind folks why I still run shit; I come back and now I’m the designated FaceTime uncle.”
Dessign popped on the screen.
“Chi, get off my phone! And who are you talking to?!” she huffed.
But then her gaze shifted, and she froze. Dessign noticed the hospital gown draped over me and the tiny bundle resting in my arms. It only took half a second before she screamed so loud Jr. squirmed.
“Oh my God! Naji! Are you serious right now?! You had my nephew without telling me?! How dare you… I mean, y’all ?! I was supposed to be there holding your hand, braiding your hair, yelling at the nurses—and you robbed me of my moment!”
I chuckled. “S-Sis, calm down,” I stuttered through a tic, shifting Jr. in my arms. “Listen… my water broke while we were still in Mississippi, trying to finalize everything with the house for my mom and dad. We’re actually still here.
That’s why y’all didn’t get the call before.
It was just… t–too much going on at once.
And on top of that,” I added softly, smoothing Jr.’s blanket, “Imanio’s focus was strictly on me and the baby.
He didn’t want nothing pulling his attention away from us. ”
Chi leaned in, grinning like the devil. “Translation: bro wasn’t about to let you FaceTime nobody mid-contraction. He had one job, and he did it.”
Dessign sighed. “I get it. Still, y’all could’ve at least facetimed us during the actual labor. Y’all had me out here clueless while history was being made.”
I just smirked and rocked Jr. gently, kissing his forehead before looking back at her.
“Well, you k-know now. And besides, I wanted the first scream he heard to be mine, not yours.”
Chi snickered. “She got you there, Dess.”
“Hush! You’re supposed to be on my side!” Dessign snapped, though the corner of her mouth was twitching like she wanted to smile.
She pointed at the screen.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get both of y’all back for this. Where is my brother at anyway?”
“The bathroom.”
Dessign finally locked in on the baby. Her whole demeanor shifted. The sass drained out of her and her lips trembled into a soft smile.
“Dang…” she whispered, her voice breaking. “He’s really here. I’m an auntie.”
Tears welled in her eyes as she pressed a hand over her mouth, laughing and crying all at once.
“Naji, he’s perfect. How much did he weigh?”
“9 pounds, 9 ounces, girl!”
“9 pounds?! Girl, I’d still be in labor cussin’ out nurses and Jesus!”
“The way you eat, our baby gon’ come out twelve pounds and holding a Capri Sun,” Chi blurted.
“That’s what they made C-sections for, which is exactly what I’ll be requesting—because I can already imagine the foolishness you’re liable to say or do during my labor.”
“C-section or vaginal delivery, I’ma show my ass, baby!
I’ma be in the delivery room with a durag and shades on, tellin’ the baby, ‘Slide out slow, lil’ homie.
It’s cold out here. The outside got bills and bad vibes.
And Naji, just to let you know, I’m having my nephew some onesies made with my crew’s logo,” he mentioned proudly. “Let ’em know who his first plug is.”
“You will do no such thing!” Dessign snapped. “I swear, if I see my nephew in a ‘Lil Hustla in Training’ onesie, I’m reporting you to the Lord, the fashion police, and your probation officer!”
I laughed so hard I had to clutch my side.
“Stop—my stitches!”
“It’s branding, baby!” Chi kept trying to make his point.
“It’s delusion! ” Dessign shot back. “He just got here, and you’re already trying to give him a RICO case! I love you, baby, but I will fight you over my nephew’s wardrobe! Play with something safer.”
She gave Chi a kiss, then diverted her attention to me.
“I’m so ready to love on my nephew! I still wish I could’ve been there!”
“I know, sis… me too.”
Just then, Imanio appeared behind me , taking our son out of my arms. He gently turned toward the camera and eased Jr. into the frame.
Dessign’s eyes widened, and her fuss shifted gears immediately.
“And don’t think you’re off the hook either, Imanio! You’re just as guilty for not letting me know she was in labor!”
Imanio’s mouth curved into that slow smirk of his.
“I made sure my wife and son were good first—everything else could wait. I still love you, sis.”
Dessign sucked her teeth. “Mm-hmm. Don’t worry, nephew—Auntie gon’ remind you one day that I wasn’t invited to your grand entrance.”
I shook my head, already knowing she’d never let that go.
If I lived to be a hundred, Dessign would still be somewhere reminding him, “Your mama and daddy robbed me of my Auntie spotlight! I was supposed to be her doula, her cheerleader, and her hype woman—but nooo, they cut me out!” Knowing her, she’d probably put that in his baby book under ‘first betrayal’.
“Congratulations, bro. That’s yo’ twin right there,” Chi chimed in.
“Preciate it, bro.”
Chi continued. “He’s already frowning like somebody owe him some money… and he got a strong brow. Probably already thinking about generational wealth. My nephew gon’ have an LLC, a savings account, and a side hustle by kindergarten.”
“Look at who his daddy is!” Dessign exclaimed. “Knowing my brother, he probably already filed the paperwork!”
Imanio nodded slowly with pride. “Damn right.”
“Now, sis ,” Dessign said, dragging the word for emphasis.
“You know I love you. You had a whole baby… beautiful moment… blessings and all that…” She paused dramatically, head tilted.
“but you gon’ have to go and hurry up and heal, boo!
We got a whole project to finish! If you stay in that hospital too long, people gon’ start thinking you’re bougie.
You ain’t Tina , but I’ma need for you to speed up this recovery like Ike told her!
You’re lying there looking like a soft commercial for Huggies, but I need you up and back to work!
I’m trying to launch a collection, not wait on your six-week clearance! ”
The whole room erupted in laughter.
Chi was dying laughing, though. “Baby done turned into fashion Ike Turner. ‘You gon’ heal today, Tina!’”
“Yes! We have fittings, mood boards, sketches, designs to approve, and adaptive samples. My nephew got a name; now let’s give the brand one!”
I smiled, tired but happy, because I knew Dessign meant every word—and beneath all that sass and humor was nothing but love.
I leaned back against the pillow, their banter still echoing as I slipped into my thoughts.
What started as a wild idea during a vent session had become our mission. A fashion line for people like us—people with disabilities, visible differences, and unique needs that no mainstream designer seemed to consider unless it came with a charity tag and a sad song in the background.
The $25,000 Blu gave me sat untouched and hidden for months, like a scar I never wanted to talk about.
Alongside that, Imanio had given a generous donation.
Together, both were enough for my share of the investment.
Imanio had no clue the 25, 000 even existed, and as far as I was concerned, he never would.
Some secrets didn’t need confession; they needed to be transformed, repurposed into something better than the mess they came from.
I told Dessign I would model again, but only if I could walk, tic, and curse down a runway with no apologies. She said if I was brave enough to do that, she’d build the line around me.
And she did.