Chapter 29 Zainab
ZAINAB
“His progress has been remarkable, Zainab. Truly.”
I shifted on the couch, trying to find a position that didn’t make my lower back scream. At eight months pregnant, there was no such thing as comfortable anymore. Just varying degrees of miserable.
“You think so?” I asked, pressing the phone closer to my ear.
“I know so.” Sloane’s voice was warm through the speaker.
“When Yusef first came to me, he wouldn’t make eye contact.
Wouldn’t speak. Barely acknowledged I was in the room.
And now? He’s initiating conversations. Expressing his feelings.
Asking for what he needs.” She paused. “That’s beyond progress.
He’s had a breakthrough. I think you being home and has really helped. ”
I felt my eyes sting. After everything that boy had been through —the killing, the kidnapping, the months of captivity, watching violence that would break most adults—hearing that he was healing meant more than I could put into words.
“I’m so proud of him,” I said softly.
“You should be proud of yourself, too. You’ve given him stability. Safety. A home where he feels loved enough to let his guard down.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “That’s not nothing, Zainab. That’s everything.”
We talked for a few more minutes—she gave me some tips on how to keep encouraging his communication, reminded me that setbacks were normal and not to panic if he had a quiet day here and there. By the time we hung up, I felt lighter than I had in weeks.
Maybe things were finally turning around.
“Auntie Z?”
I looked up to find Yusef standing in the doorway of the living room, watching me with those big brown eyes that always saw too much.
“Hey, baby. What’s up?”
“Your ankle.” He nodded toward my foot, propped up on a pillow. The skin around the monitor was swollen and angry-looking, the device digging into flesh that was already puffy from pregnancy. “It looks bad. You want some ice?”
I glanced down at it and sighed. The thing had been irritating me all day—itching, rubbing, making me hyperaware of its presence every time I moved. A constant reminder that I was a prisoner in my own home.
“Ice would be amazing. Thank you, baby.”
He disappeared into the kitchen and I heard him rummaging through the freezer. A minute later he was back with a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a dish towel.
“We’re out of ice packs,” he said, kneeling down to place it gently against my ankle. “But Auntie Mehar said frozen vegetables work just as good.”
“She’s right.” I reached out and touched his face, my heart swelling. “When did you get so thoughtful?”
He shrugged, but I caught the hint of a smile. “I learned from you.”
Lord, this boy was going to make me cry.
“Come sit with me,” I said, patting the couch. “Dinner should be here soon. I ordered from that Thai place you like.”
He settled onto the other end of the couch, pulling his knees up to his chest. For a moment we just sat there in comfortable silence, the evening light filtering through the windows, the house quiet and peaceful.
I missed Prime. He’d only been gone a day, but his absence felt like a physical thing—an empty space where his warmth should be. He’d called earlier, told me he was handling some business but didn’t go into details. I didn’t ask. Some things I was better off not knowing.
But God, I wished he was here. Wished I could curl up against him and let him rub my feet and tell me everything was going to be okay.
Soon, I reminded myself. He’d be home soon.
My phone buzzed. The food was here.
“Can you get the door, baby? I don’t think I can get up right now.” I gestured at my belly, which had officially taken over my entire body. “Your cousin is using my bladder as a pillow.”
Yusef actually laughed—a real laugh, not just a polite exhale—and headed for the door. I watched him go, marveling at how far he’d come. Six months ago, he wouldn’t have answered the door for anything. Would’ve hidden in his room, terrified of who might be on the other side.
Now he was grabbing the food from the delivery guy and making small talk about the weather.
My baby was healing. Slowly, imperfectly, but healing.
We ate on the couch because I couldn’t make it to the dining table. Pad thai for me, drunken noodles for him, spring rolls to share. Some reality show played in the background, neither of us really watching.
“This is good,” Yusef said between bites. “Better than last time.”
“Right? I think they changed their recipe or something.”
We ate in easy silence for a while. I was so used to the quiet with him that I almost didn’t notice when he set down his fork and turned to face me.
“Auntie Z? Can I talk to you about something?”
I set my own food aside, giving him my full attention. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”
He was quiet for a moment, like he was gathering his thoughts. His fingers picked at the hem of his shirt—an old nervous habit I recognized.
“Ever since… everything that happened,” he started slowly. “With Nigel. And after that. Being taken. All of it.” He swallowed hard. “I feel like I haven’t had any freedom. Like I went from one cage to another to another.”
My heart cracked. “Yusef—”
“I’m not saying this is a cage,” he added quickly.
“I love living here. I love you and Uncle Prime. This is the safest I’ve ever felt in my whole life.
” His eyes met mine. “But I’m still… trapped.
In a different way. I can’t go anywhere by myself.
Can’t do anything without someone watching me.
And I get it—I know why. After everything that happened, everyone’s scared something bad will happen again. ”
“We just want to protect you, baby.”
“I know.” He nodded. “But I’m tired of being scared all the time. I’m tired of feeling like I can’t breathe unless someone’s holding my hand.” He sat up straighter, and I saw something in his face I hadn’t seen before. Determination. “I want to start being normal again. Or at least try.”
I didn’t know what to say. Part of me wanted to wrap him in bubble wrap and never let him out of my sight. He’d been through so much—too much—and the thought of anything else happening to him made me physically sick.
But another part of me knew he was right. I couldn’t keep him locked up forever. That wasn’t protection—that was just a different kind of prison.
“What are you asking for?” I said carefully.
“I want to go to the mall tomorrow. By myself.” He held up his hands before I could protest. “Just for an hour. That’s it. I want to buy something for the baby—a little gift, from me. And I want to do it on my own.”
“Yusef…”
“Please, Auntie Z.” His voice was steady, but I could see the vulnerability underneath. “I need to prove to myself that I can do this. That I’m not broken. That the world isn’t just full of people waiting to hurt me.”
I stared at him for a long moment. This boy who’d been through hell and back. Who’d been silent for months, trapped inside his own head. Who was finally, finally starting to find his voice again.
And here he was, asking for one hour. One small act of independence. One chance to feel normal.
How could I say no?
“One hour,” I said finally. “Not a minute more. You keep your phone on you at all times, and you text me when you get there, when you’re leaving, and if anything feels weird. Anything at all, you call me immediately. Understood? And I need to be able to track you.”
His whole face lit up. “Really? You mean it?”
“I mean it.” I tried to look stern, but I couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips. “But if you’re even five minutes late, I’m sending your uncle after you. And you know he don’t play.”
Yusef laughed again—two real laughs in one night, that had to be a record—and launched himself across the couch to hug me. I held him tight, breathing in the scent of his shampoo, feeling his heart beat against mine.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you thank you thank you.”
“You’re welcome, baby.” I kissed the top of his head. “I’m proud of you, you know that? For speaking up. For telling me what you need. That takes courage.”
He pulled back, eyes bright. “I’m gonna find the perfect gift. Something the baby will love.”
“I’m sure you will.”
He practically bounced off the couch, suddenly full of energy. “I’m gonna go look online and figure out what store to go to. Is it okay if I use the laptop?”
“Go ahead.”
I watched him disappear down the hallway, his footsteps lighter than I’d heard them in months.
The house settled into quiet around me. I adjusted the frozen peas on my ankle, wincing at the pressure of the monitor against my swollen skin. Outside, the sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.
Tomorrow, Yusef would go to the mall by himself for the first time since everything happened. He’d pick out a gift for his baby cousin. He’d walk through the stores like a normal teenager, anonymous and free.
And I’d be here, counting the minutes until he came home safe.
But for tonight, I let myself feel something I hadn’t felt in a long time.
Hope.
Maybe the worst was finally behind us. Maybe we could actually build the life Prime kept promising me—the one with Sunday dinners and school plays and a house full of laughter.
Maybe we were going to be okay.
I rubbed my belly, feeling the baby kick against my palm.
“Hear that, little one?” I murmured. “Your cousin’s gonna buy you your first gift. How special is that?”
The baby kicked again, like she understood.
I smiled and closed my eyes.
Tomorrow was going to be a good day.