Chapter 42 Zainab
ZAINAB
A day and a half.
Thirty-six hours of waiting. Of checking my phone every five minutes. Of jumping at every notification, every buzz, every sound that might be Prime telling me it was over.
Serenity and Mehar did their best to keep me distracted.
We cooked. Made enough food to feed an army—rice and peas, fried plantains, chicken curry, all the comfort foods I’d grown up eating.
Mehar moved around the kitchen with surprising ease, chopping vegetables, stirring pots, humming songs I hadn’t heard since we were children.
She looked good. Happy, almost. In her fitted jeans and oversized sweater, gold hoops catching the light every time she moved.
“You need to sit down,” Serenity said, guiding me toward a stool at the kitchen island. “Pregnant women shouldn’t be on their feet all day.”
“I’m barely pregnant. I’m fine.”
“Girl, you are PREGNANT. That means you sit. You rest. You let us handle things.” She pointed the wooden spoon at me like a weapon. “Prime would kill me if I let you overdo it.”
“Well, Prime doesn’t know yet.”
“You gonna tell him when he gets here?” Serenity asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe. It depends on…” I trailed off. On how Yusef is. On whether this nightmare is actually over. On whether there’s even room for joy in the middle of all this chaos.
Serenity seemed to read my mind. “There’s always room for good news, Zainab. Especially now.” She grinned. “A baby? That’s the good kind of chaos.”
Mehar smiled from her spot by the stove. “I can’t wait to be an auntie… again I guess.”
“You’re gonna spoil this baby rotten,” I said.
“That’s the plan.” Her smile widened. “I’m gonna be the cool auntie. The one who lets them stay up late and eat ice cream for breakfast.”
“Great. Just what I need.”
We laughed. For a moment—just a moment—it felt normal. Like we were just three women cooking together, talking about babies and the future, pretending the world outside wasn’t falling apart.
Then my phone buzzed.
I snatched it off the counter so fast I nearly knocked over a glass of water.
Prime’s name on the screen.
“Hello?”
“I have him.” His voice was tired. Heavy. But underneath it—relief. “We’re on our way.”
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. Tears were already streaming down my face, blurring my vision.
“Zainab? You hear me?”
“Yes.” The word came out choked. Broken. “Yes, I hear you. You have him. You have my baby.”
“I have him. We’ll be there in an hour.”
“Is he okay? Is he hurt? Did Rashid—”
“We’ll talk when I get there.” A pause. “Just… be ready. Okay?”
Something in his tone made my stomach clench. But I pushed it down. Pushed everything down except the overwhelming relief flooding through my body.
“Okay. I’ll be ready. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
The line went dead.
I lowered the phone slowly. Looked at Serenity and Mehar, who were watching me with wide eyes.
“He has him,” I whispered. “Prime has Yusef.”
Serenity screamed. Actually screamed, the same way she’d screamed when I told her I was pregnant. She grabbed me and pulled me into a hug so tight I could barely breathe.
“I TOLD you! I TOLD you he’d get him back!”
Mehar was crying too. Quiet tears sliding down her cheeks as she watched us embrace.
“Thank God,” she whispered. “Thank God.”
I pulled back from Serenity, wiping my face with shaking hands. “He’ll be here in an hour. I need to… I should…”
“You should sit down and breathe,” Serenity said firmly. “We’ll get everything ready. Food. Clean sheets for his room. Whatever he needs.”
“I can’t just sit—”
“Yes you can. You’re pregnant, remember?” She squeezed my shoulders. “Let us take care of things. You just focus on being ready for him.”
My baby.
He was coming home.
The hour felt like a year.
I sat by the window, watching the driveway, my phone clutched in my hands like a lifeline. Every car that passed made my heart jump. Every sound made me turn toward the door.
Serenity and Mehar moved around me quietly, preparing things, giving me space. I barely noticed. All I could think about was Yusef. His face. His voice. The way he used to hug me so tight after a nightmare, like he was afraid I’d disappear.
I was going to hold him again. Hear his voice again. Tell him I loved him and watch his face soften the way it always did.
Everything was going to be okay.
Then I saw the Bentayga pull into the driveway.
I was at the door before I even realized I’d moved. Yanking it open. Running down the porch steps. Not caring about the cold or the fact that I was barefoot.
Prime stepped out of the driver’s side. He looked exhausted. Worn down in a way I’d never seen before. But I barely registered it because the passenger door was opening and—
Yusef.
Standing there in clothes I didn’t recognize, his face thinner than I remembered, his eyes—
His eyes.
I ran to him. Threw my arms around him. Pulled him against my chest so hard I could feel his heartbeat against mine.
“Yusef. Oh my God, Yusef. My baby. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, baby, I’m here now. I’ve got you. You’re safe. You’re safe.”
I waited for his arms to come around me. For him to bury his face in my shoulder the way he always did. For the tears and the trembling and the relief of being home.
Nothing.
His arms hung at his sides. His body was stiff. Rigid. Like he was made of stone.
I pulled back. Looked at his face.
And my heart shattered.
His eyes were empty. Hollow. The warm brown eyes that used to light up when he played piano, that sparkled when he won a chess match, that softened when I told him I loved him—they were gone.
Replaced by something flat. Dead. The eyes of someone who had retreated so far inside themselves they might never come back.
“Yusef?” My voice cracked. “Baby, it’s me. It’s me, Zainab. You’re home now. You’re safe.”
Nothing. Not even a flicker.
I looked down. Noticed the bruises on his wrists. The blisters on his knees, visible through a tear in his pants. Evidence of whatever horrors he’d endured in that basement.
“Oh God.” I touched his face. His cheek. Searching for any sign of the boy I’d raised. “What did he do to you? Baby, what did he do?”
Silence.
Prime appeared beside me. His hand on my shoulder. Heavy with guilt.
“Let’s get him inside,” he said quietly. “He needs to rest.”
Mehar was waiting in the living room when we walked in.
She’d never met Yusef before. Only heard stories. Only seen pictures. And now, here he was—her nephew, her blood—standing in front of her like a ghost.
She knelt down slowly. Put herself at his eye level. Her voice was soft when she spoke.
“Hi, Yusef. I’m your Auntie Mehar. Your mama’s little sister.” She reached out, her hand hovering near his arm. “I’ve heard so much about you. I’m so happy to finally meet you.”
Yusef didn’t look at her. Didn’t acknowledge her presence at all. Just stared at some point past her shoulder, seeing something none of us could see.
Mehar’s face crumpled. She pulled her hand back slowly, tears welling in her eyes.
Serenity touched her arm gently. “Come on,” she whispered. “Let’s give them some space.”
They retreated to the kitchen. I heard the door close behind them.
I guided Yusef to the couch. Sat him down. Knelt in front of him the way Mehar had done.
“Are you hungry? I made all your favorites. Rice and peas. Fried plantains. That chicken curry you love.”
Nothing.
“What about music? You want me to put on some music? We could listen to that jazz playlist you made.”
Nothing.
“Chess. We could play chess. I know I’m terrible, but—”
“Zainab.” Prime’s voice was gentle. Tired. “He’s not… he’s not there right now.”
I looked up at him. Saw the guilt written all over his face.
“What happened?” I asked. “What did Rashid do to him?”
Prime sat down heavily in the armchair across from us. Ran a hand over his face.
“I don’t know everything. Yusef won’t talk. But from what I could piece together…” He paused. Swallowed. “Rashid was trying to mold him. Turn him into something. There was prayer. Training. Discipline.”
“Discipline?”
“The bruises. The blisters.” Prime’s jaw tightened. “He was making Yusef kneel for hours. Pray in Arabic. Breaking him down to build him back up. The same way he did to me.”
I looked at my nephew. At his hollow eyes. His rigid posture. The way he sat so perfectly still, like any movement might bring punishment.
“He broke him,” I whispered.
“I think…” Prime’s voice caught. “I think something else happened too. Something worse. But I don’t know what. He won’t tell me.”
Something worse.
What could be worse than this?
I pulled Yusef into my arms again. Held him even though he didn’t hold me back. Rocked him the way I used to when he was a baby, when a nightmare would send him screaming into my room in the middle of the night.
“It’s okay,” I whispered against his hair. “You don’t have to talk. You don’t have to do anything. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. We’re gonna get through this, baby. Together. I promise.”
He didn’t respond. Didn’t move. Didn’t even seem to register that I was there.
I held him anyway.
Eventually, Yusef fell asleep.
It took hours. Hours of sitting with him. Holding his hand. Playing soft music in the background. Talking to him about nothing and everything, filling the silence with my voice even though he never responded.
When his eyes finally closed—when his body finally relaxed against the pillows—I tucked the blanket around him and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
“I love you,” I whispered. “More than anything in this world. Nothing’s gonna change that. Nothing.”
I crept out of the room and closed the door softly behind me.
Serenity had already gone home. Mehar had retreated to her room. Prime was somewhere in the house—I could hear him moving around.
I went to the master bathroom. Splashed water on my face. Looked at my reflection in the mirror.
I looked terrible. Eyes red and swollen. Face puffy from crying. The face of a woman who had just gotten her son back and lost him at the same time.
I was brushing my teeth when the door opened.
Prime stood in the doorway. His expression unreadable. In his hand—
The pregnancy test.
My heart stopped.
“Found this in the trash,” he said quietly. “Were you gonna tell me?”
I set down my toothbrush slowly. Turned to face him.
“I just found out,” I said. “Last night.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I was waiting for the right time. I was going to tell you the moment Yusef was safe.” I gestured helplessly at the door, toward the room where our broken boy was sleeping. “But then I saw him. Saw what Rashid did to him. And I didn’t know how to… how could I celebrate new life when…”
My voice cracked. The tears I’d been holding back all night finally spilled over.
“I’m sorry. I should have told you. I just—”
Prime crossed the room in two strides. Cupped my face in his hands. And when I looked up at him, I saw something I’d never seen before.
Softness.
Prime Banks… the man who killed without flinching, who had sawed off a woman’s ear without blinking, who had faced down his own mentor without showing an ounce of emotion, was looking at me like I was the most precious thing in the world.
“You’re pregnant,” he said. His voice was thick. Reverent. “You’re having my baby.”
“I am.”
“We’re gonna be a family.”
“We already are.”
He kissed me. Deep and desperate and hungry. The kind of kiss that said everything words couldn’t. I love you. I need you. You’re the only good thing in this broken world.
I kissed him back just as hard. Poured everything into it—the fear, the relief, the hope, the grief. All of it.
His hands slid down my body, pulling me closer. I arched into him, needing to feel alive, needing to believe that something good could still exist after everything we’d been through.
“I’m gonna take care of you,” he murmured against my lips. “You and Yusef and this baby. I’m gonna give you everything. I swear to God, Zainab. I’m gonna—”
A scream.
Blood-curdling. Primal. The scream of a child trapped in a nightmare he couldn’t escape.
“NO! NO! PLEASE! NO!”
Yusef.
We were running before the second scream finished. Down the hall. Through the door. Into the room where our son was thrashing in the bed, tangled in sweat-soaked sheets, screaming like someone was killing him.
“NO! I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY! PLEASE DON’T MAKE ME! NO!”
I grabbed him. Held him tight against my chest even as he fought me.
“Yusef! Yusef, wake up! It’s Zainab! You’re safe! You’re home!”
His eyes flew open. Wild. Unseeing. For a moment, he didn’t recognize me. Didn’t recognize anything. Just stared at me with the eyes of a boy who had seen something no child should ever see.
Then the screaming stopped.
And the silence that followed was somehow worse.
After we finally got him settled again, we headed back to our room and plopped on the bed.
“I don’t know what we’re gonna do,” I said as tears raced down my face.
“Creed… My brother Cannon’s brother…”
“Yeah, what about him?”
“His wife is a big time therapist. She helps little boys. I think we should reach out to her,”
“Yeah let’s do that.”
The worst was over but we had a long way to go.