EPILOGUE
CASH
Cash and Zambia’s Walima
Cash adjusted the cuff of his thobe before smoothing an invisible wrinkle from the front of it.
It didn’t need it. Nothing did. The ballroom looked exactly the way Zambia had envisioned it.
Elegant. White roses and baby’s breath spilled from towering centerpieces while crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over ivory linens and gold crescent moon place settings.
Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, the golf course stretched beneath a cloudless sky.
Everything was immaculate. Jackie had made sure of that.
Cash stood near the window with his hands tucked behind his back, looking out over the grounds.
The venue buzzed with quiet purpose around him.
His mother floated from vendor to vendor making microscopic adjustments.
His father stood near the entrance speaking quietly with the security detail.
Everything was moving according to schedule.
At least… that’s what everybody believed.
“You clean up alright.” Cash looked over his shoulder. Najee stepped into the ballroom wearing a charcoal thobe beneath a tailored Bisht, coffee in one hand. Cash smirked. “So do you.”
Najee stopped beside him, following his gaze out the window.
“Nervous?” Cash thought about it. He wasn’t.
At least, not anymore. Excited? Now, that took a little longer to answer.
Marrying Zambia no longer felt like an obligation he had to endure.
Somewhere over the last few months, the two of them had quietly become something neither of them saw coming. Friends.
Najee studied him for a moment. “You know it ain’t too late.” Cash looked over. “Say the word,” Najee joked causing Cash to smile. “I think it is, bro,” he said, as a quiet chuckle escaped him.
“Nah… but seriously. I made peace with today a long time ago.” Najee gave a slow nod and allowed the conversation to settle there. Cash did the same, grateful for the quiet understanding that existed in his cousin’s silence. Still, it felt good knowing his cousin had his back no matter what.
A short while later, both men stood together inside the private ceremony suite reserved for the nikah and waited. The imam had just arrived alongside the last few members of Zambia’s immediate family. Guest filtered into the room, greeting one another quietly as one by one they took their seats.
Outside, Newdy and his crew made the final adjustments to the floral arrangements lining the walkway.
Cash caught sight of Monty, Calvin, and Koi crossing the courtyard toward the entrance.
Just outside the suite, Brother Anwarr and his son stood speaking in hushed tones.
A few more minutes passed before the rhythm of the room changed.
It started small. One of Zambia’s cousins hurried past the ceremony suite toward the bridal rooms. Then another.
A bridesmaid followed behind them, phone pressed to her ear.
Cash watched another member of the Abdul-Muhammad family disappear down the hallway.
Then another. His mother looked toward the bridal hallway.
Then at her watch. Then back toward the hallway again.
That caught his attention. Zambia was never late…
for anything. Especially not this. Uncle Malik walked over quietly.
“They ready for us?” His mother didn’t answer right away.
“They should be.” Should. Cash caught that.
His eyes shifted toward Najee. Najee had heard it too.
A minute later, Zambia’s oldest brother appeared at the end of the hallway.
His face had gone pale. He walked straight to his father.
The conversation lasted less than ten seconds.
Whatever was said made Brother Anwarr’s shoulders stiffen almost immediately.
Then everything moved at once. People scattered in different directions.
Phones came out. One aunt disappeared toward the bridal suite.
Another hurried toward the elevators. Cash stayed exactly where he was.
His mother looked around until she spotted him.
“Cassius.” He turned. Cash nodded once and followed his mother toward the private elevators reserved for the wedding party. Najee fell into step beside him.
The ride upstairs passed in silence. His mother stood rigid beside them, eyes fixed on the glowing numbers above the doors while Najee watched Cash from the corner of his eye.
When the elevator opened onto the bridal floor, the quiet felt wrong.
The bridal suite stood wide open at the end of the hallway.
Women moved in and out with hurried steps, speaking in hushed voices that stopped whenever Cash drew near.
He walked into the room and took everything in.
Drawers had been left open. Garment bags were draped across the sofa.
Makeup brushes, palettes, and bottles covered the vanity like somebody had been interrupted halfway through getting ready.
Zambia’s wedding dress still hung untouched beside the bay window.
One heel rested beneath the vanity. The other had been abandoned beside the chaise lounge.
Cash’s gaze moved slowly across the room.
Her perfume sat uncapped beside a bouquet of white roses.
Her charger was still plugged into the wall, the cord hanging loose over the edge of the vanity.
Everything she should’ve needed to become his wife was still there.
Everything except her. Then something else caught his eye.
An ivory envelope rested neatly in the center of the vanity.
One word written across the front. Cassius.
Cash walked past everyone. Nobody tried to stop him.
He picked up the envelope. Turned it over once.
The seal had already been broken. Without saying a word, Cash slipped the letter from inside.
The room disappeared. And for a little while…
It was just him…and Zambia.
Cassius,
If you’re reading this… Congratulations.
We finally kept our promise. Just not the one everybody else thought we would.
Remember Fairmount Park? We were kids back then.
Funny how the older I got, the more I realized sixteen-year-old me had a whole lot more sense than thirty-year-old me.
Somewhere along the way… I stopped listening to her.
I convinced myself I could learn to want this.
That eventually duty would feel like destiny.
That almost would count. News flash… It never did.
Loving you wasn’t the mistake. Waiting for you to love me back was.
And before you start feeling guilty… Don’t.
You never lied to me. Not once. You gave me exactly what you promised.
Respect. Protection. And eventually… Friendship.
The problem was… I kept thinking maybe this would be the day I finally wanted the life everybody else wanted for me.
That day never came. It didn’t hit me until one morning I woke up planning a wedding to the most solid man I’d ever known…
and trying on dresses for a life I didn’t actually want.
The crazy part? You would’ve given me a beautiful life.
You would’ve protected me. You would’ve done everything right.
Everything… Except love me the way I needed to be loved.
And that ain’t your fault. These past few months have been both bitter and sweet.
Please believe me when I tell you I have thoroughly enjoyed getting to know the real you.
Learning your humor, watching you heal, and confront your own demons gave me the strength to finally face mine.
And somehow, in spite of everything… We built the exact relationship we were always supposed to have.
It just wasn’t a marriage. You’re my best friend, Cash.
Maybe my only real friend. And you always will be.
And I love you enough not to let you spend the rest of your life pretending this is enough.
I know you. If I walked down that aisle today…
You would’ve married me. And I would’ve spent the next forty years pretending it was enough.
Neither one of us deserves that. So today…
I’m giving both of us something either one of us has ever had.
A choice. Don’t waste it. Go build the life you actually want.
Love because you choose to. Have babies because your heart says yes…
Not because two families shook hands twenty years ago.
As for me… Don’t come looking. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
And before your daddy sends out the National Guard…
Yes. I know what I’m doing. No. I haven’t lost my mind.
And yes… I’m smiling. Tell my daddy I’m sorry.
And tell him I love him. Tell Fatima… Now she ain’t the only black sheep.
Seriously though… Thank you. For loving me the best way you knew how.
Even when it wasn’t the way I wanted. I love you, Cassius.
Enough to let you go, and give you the freedom you would’ve never given yourself. Don’t let freedom make you ugly.
P.S. Fuck the plan. — Zamb
Cash carefully folded the letter back along the same creases Zambia had made and slipped it into the inside pocket of his Bisht.
A phone chimed. Then another. Then three more.
Cash felt his own phone vibrate. He pulled it out.
An Instagram notification from @Zambinyc filled the screen.
He tapped it. A single photo loaded. Zambia’s midsection.
A private jet. One hand rested protectively over the swell of her stomach. An older white man’s hand covered hers.
The caption read: I’ll explain later.
Cash stared at the screen for a long time. Then he laughed. Just one quiet breath of disbelief. He shook his head, slipped the phone back into his pocket, and started walking.