CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Distance.”
The week that followed felt... different.
Not bad.
Just different.
On Monday morning, Malik texted Zara before she even reached the office.
Malik: Good luck with today's client meeting.
She smiled.
Zara: Thank you.
By lunchtime, she'd expected another message.
Nothing.
She frowned but shook it off.
He was busy.
By Tuesday, the pattern continued.
A quick "Good morning."
A quick "Hope your day's going well."
Then...
Silence.
No teasing.
No phone calls.
No "Have you eaten?"
No "Did you get home safely?"
It shouldn't have bothered her.
But it did.
"You're overthinking."
Naomi didn't even look up from her laptop.
"I haven't said anything."
"You've sighed six times in the last ten minutes."
"I have not."
"You have."
Naomi finally turned towards her.
"What's going on?"
Zara hesitated.
"I think Malik's avoiding me."
Naomi frowned.
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
"You argued?"
"No."
"He kissed someone else?"
"What? No!"
Naomi shrugged.
"I'm just eliminating possibilities."
Zara rested her chin in her hand.
"He just feels..."
She searched for the word.
"...distant."
Naomi thought for a moment.
"Then ask him."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"What if I'm imagining it?"
"What if you're not?"
Across Brooklyn, Malik stood inside Foundation House watching a group of teenagers practise speeches for an upcoming scholarship competition.
Coach Raymond walked over carrying two cups of coffee.
"You look terrible."
"Everybody keeps saying that."
"Because it's true."
They stood together near the back of the hall.
"You told her yet?"
Malik shook his head.
"No."
"You planning to?"
"I don't know."
Coach Raymond looked at him carefully.
"You can't protect somebody with secrets forever."
"I'm not keeping secrets."
"You're keeping fear."
Malik looked away.
"There's a difference."
"Not to the people getting shut out."
That evening, Devon sat in the back room of an exclusive cigar lounge in downtown Brooklyn.
Three men stood around the table.
One slid a photograph across the polished wood.
Malik and Zara leaving the grocery store.
Another of them laughing in the park.
Another outside Miss Claudette's brownstone.
Devon studied each picture quietly.
"So..."
One of the men smiled.
"The boss really likes her."
Devon leaned back in his chair.
"That's the problem."
"What do you want us to do?"
Devon looked at the photographs again.
"Nothing."
The room fell silent.
"Nothing?"
"Not yet."
He tapped Zara's picture with one finger.
"If Malik thinks she's in danger..."
"...he'll make mistakes."
A slow smile spread across his face.
"And I don't need the girl."
"I need the man."
Friday evening finally arrived.
The date.
The one they'd planned all week.
Zara stood outside Bellamy & Co., checking the time on her phone.
Six o'clock.
Six-ten.
Six-fifteen.
She frowned.
That wasn't like Malik.
Her phone buzzed.
Relief washed over her.
Until she read the message.
Malik: I'm sorry.
Malik: Something's come up.
Malik: Rain check?
Her stomach sank.
She typed.
Zara: Everything okay?
Five long minutes passed.
Finally—
Malik: Just work.
She stared at the screen.
Something about the message felt...
Wrong.
In reality, Malik sat alone inside his office.
The restaurant reservation confirmation remained open on his desk.
He'd cancelled twenty minutes earlier.
His phone rested beside a printed photograph.
Zara.
Leaving work.
Taken that afternoon.
A handwritten note had been slipped beneath his office door.
She's beautiful.
Keep pretending she's safe.
Malik closed his eyes.
Every instinct screamed at him to tell her the truth.
Instead...
He did the one thing he believed would protect her.
He stayed away.
Saturday morning, Zara arrived at the community centre.
Usually Malik was already there, bouncing basketballs before the children arrived.
Today...
Coach Raymond stood in the gym instead.
"Morning."
Zara looked around.
"Where's Malik?"
Coach Raymond hesitated.
"He couldn't make it."
"He never misses Saturdays."
"I know."
She looked at him carefully.
"Is everything alright?"
Coach Raymond forced a smile.
"He'll tell you when he's ready."
The answer only worried her more.
Practice finished early.
As Zara walked home, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.
Not because Malik had cancelled dinner.
People cancelled plans.
Not because he'd missed basketball.
Emergencies happened.
It was the silence.
The silence wasn't like him.
That evening, Miss Claudette found Zara sitting on the front steps of the brownstone, wrapped in a blanket despite the mild weather.
"You've been out here an hour."
"I know."
"You waiting for somebody?"
Zara smiled sadly.
"I don't think so."
Miss Claudette sat beside her.
"When I was twenty-four..."
"...I fell in love with a man who thought protecting me meant shutting me out."
Zara looked at her.
"What happened?"
"He almost lost me."
"What did you do?"
"I marched to his front door..."
"...and reminded him I was perfectly capable of deciding what risks I wanted to take."
Zara laughed softly.
"Did it work?"
"Eventually."
She squeezed Zara's hand.
"Don't confuse silence with rejection."
"What if he doesn't want me around anymore?"
Miss Claudette looked at her as though the thought were impossible.
"My dear..."
"A man doesn't spend months earning your trust..."
"...just to disappear because he changed his mind."
Across the city, Malik stood outside Foundation House long after everyone had gone home.
The building was dark.
Quiet.
Safe.
At least for now.
His phone rang.
Keisha.
He answered immediately.
"You alright?"
"No."
"I thought so."
She was silent for a moment before asking,
"Have you spoken to Zara?"
"No."
"You need to."
"I can't."
"Yes, you can."
Malik looked up at the empty building.
"If I tell her what's happening..."
"...she'll stay."
"And if I push her away..."
"...maybe she'll hate me enough to leave."
Keisha's voice broke.
"You really think breaking her heart is protecting her?"
Malik didn't answer.
Because part of him knew...
His sister was right.
Far across Brooklyn, Zara looked down at her silent phone one last time before going inside.
Neither of them realised they were making the same mistake.
They were trying to protect each other...
By suffering alone.