Chapter 51 Mehar
Mehar
Let me tell you something about walking across a stage six months pregnant in four-inch heels with a whole human being rearranging your organs in real time: it is not for the weak.
But I did it. I walked up there, took my certificate from Mrs. Pak, and held it together when she hugged me and whispered “I’m proud of you” even though this woman had terrorized half our class over microdermabrasion practicals and showed zero mercy to anyone who couldn’t blend a chemical peel properly.
She was crying. Mrs. Pak. Crying over me.
And I almost went right along with her because that kind of recognition from a woman who doesn’t hand out praise easily hits different when you know what you survived to earn it.
I was officially a licensed esthetician and I know that sounds regular compared to everything else on my résumé but I didn’t care.
I earned this by showing up to class when my life was actively falling apart, studying for exams between crisis phone calls, and sitting through lectures about skin pH levels while processing the fact that I’d recently killed someone with my bare hands.
Mrs. Pak had no idea about any of that. She just knew I aced every practical and never missed a day.
If she ever found out what her star student did on her days off, she’d probably need to go pray for more than patience.
The celebration was at the penthouse because we’d finally moved in and Quest decided this was the housewarming.
He went all out. Catering, music, the works.
I even had my sister’s delicious cinnamon rolls.
Rita showed up early and immediately took over the kitchen like she had a lease agreement nobody else had seen.
She spent the entire party telling people she taught me how to cook, taking credit for my oxtails, and informing anyone within earshot that her granddaughter-in-law could burn in the kitchen, which coming from Rita was basically a standing ovation.
The woman couldn’t see the stove but she could smell everything in the pot from across the room and had opinions about all of it.
Everybody was spread out through the penthouse eating and talking and doing what Black families do when the food is good and nobody’s in crisis, which is argue about everything.
Prime and Justice were going back and forth about whether LeBron or Jordan was the real GOAT and neither one of them was backing down even though this debate has been settled a thousand times and will never actually be settled because it’s not about basketball, it’s about ego.
Zainab was on the couch with the twins on her lap trying to feed Kheris while Idris kept grabbing food off her plate.
Yusef was in a corner showing Dream something on his phone and they were both laughing about it.
And Storie was in the other corner on her new phone ignoring everybody, which for a kid her age was basically the same as being well-behaved so nobody bothered her about it.
Bryce came straight from work still in his casino security uniform and I swear I could’ve sobbed right there looking at him.
My baby brother who was running with Vipers and burning down warehouses less than a year ago was clocking in every day and had just been promoted to floor supervisor.
He had Skai with him because Samaya had left him a while ago and he was doing the single dad thing now.
Serenity was seven months pregnant and glowing, which was annoying because some women just look ethereal when they’re carrying and the rest of us look swollen and tired. Guess which category I fell into.
Shayla came and honestly that was the highlight of my entire night.
She walked in looking like somebody I’d never met before.
Clear eyes, healthy skin, smiling with her whole face for the first time since I’d known her.
A few months ago she was pulling her sleeves over her wrists in class trying to hide bruises from a man who thought love meant leaving marks.
I gave her my number, told her to call when she was ready, and when she finally did I was at her apartment within the hour with a plan and a ride to transitional housing.
Her boyfriend died two weeks after she left him.
Heart failure at twenty-nine, no prior cardiac history, which the doctors chalked up to one of those tragic undiagnosed conditions that takes young men before anybody sees it coming.
The autopsy was clean. The toxicology was clean.
Because what I’d given Shayla to put in his protein shake was sourced through a contact Quest didn’t know I had and it doesn’t show up on any panel, standard or otherwise.
I did my research. Thoroughly. I was proud of Shayla for finally taking control of her destiny.
She hugged me at the party and said “thank you for saving my life” and I told her I’d do it again in a heartbeat. It was my mission to help women in these situations. But first things first, birth this baby.
The news had covered Vivica’s death about a month before the party.
Former DC mayor found dead in her home, medical examiner ruled it a suicide, the whole narrative wrote itself.
Depressed, isolated, unable to recover from the public scandal, couldn’t handle losing everything she’d built.
The press ran with it because it was neat and tragic and confirmed what everybody already believed about powerful women who fall from grace.
City council members who wouldn’t return her calls when she was alive suddenly had touching statements about her legacy and her decades of public service.
Isn’t that always how it goes. You can’t get a text back while you’re breathing but the second you’re gone everybody’s got flowers and a speech.
I knew what happened. Quest and I never talked about it and we never would because some things between two people who love each other don’t need to be spoken out loud to be understood.
His mother was gone and the family was safer and I didn’t feel anything about it except the quiet relief of knowing that woman could never reach into our lives again.
She’d spent decades doing damage from every angle, from the mayor’s office, from a prison cell, from her home.
She was done now. And I slept better knowing it.
Quest found me on the balcony after people started heading out.
The sun was dropping over the river and the whole city had that golden hour glow where everything looks like it costs more than it does.
I was leaning on the railing rubbing my belly because this baby had been doing gymnastics all day and I was pretty sure I was carrying either an Olympic athlete or someone with a serious attitude problem.
Probably both, considering who the parents were.
“I got something for you,” Quest said, sliding his arms around me from behind and kissing my neck.
“You’ve given me so much. What could you possibly have now,” I smiled.
“You’re not done being spoiled because I’m not done spoiling you.” He pulled up a booking confirmation on his phone. Private island in the Caribbean, long weekend, three weeks from now. “Babymoon. Just us. No brothers, no security, no drama. I’m flying us out myself.”
“Quest, I’m six months pregnant. I’m going to spend the whole trip eating and napping.”
“Good. You eat, you nap, I rub your feet and stare at you. That’s literally the whole agenda.”
I laughed and leaned into him and looked out at the city we’d fought to survive in and thought about all the doors I’d walked through to get here.
Every single one of those doors tried to close behind me permanently and I kicked through every one of them.
And now I was standing on a balcony in a penthouse overlooking the Potomac with a ring on my finger and a baby in my belly and a man who loved me.
After the baby came I was opening my medspa near Zainab’s bakery, but we both would be moving our businesses to Freetown when that came into fruition.
I had real plans. Plans that kept me up at night because I was excited, not afraid.
And standing on that balcony with this man’s arms around me and our baby doing backflips in my belly and our family still laughing inside behind us, I felt something I had spent my entire adult life believing I would never have.
I was happy. Like genuinely, ridiculously, embarrassingly happy.
This level of happiness used to make me suspicious because every good thing I’d ever had came with a trap door.
But not this time. This time I wasn’t holding my breath.
I wasn’t checking over my shoulder. I wasn’t bracing for whatever bullshit the universe had waiting around the corner.
For the first time in my life, I was just living in it.