CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Pieces of the truth.”
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur.
Although Devon had left, the atmosphere around Foundation House had changed.
The volunteers smiled, but their laughter wasn't quite as carefree.
Parents collected their children a little earlier than usual.
Even the staff spoke in quieter voices.
Zara helped pack decorations into storage, but her mind kept drifting back to the look on Malik's face.
Not fear.
Not anger.
Regret.
Deep, unmistakable regret.
She'd never seen someone look at another person as though they represented every mistake they'd spent years trying to undo.
As the last volunteer locked the side entrance, Camille walked over carrying her handbag.
"You heading back to Manhattan?"
"I was going to catch the subway."
Camille glanced toward the courtyard.
"Mr. Carter offered to drive you."
Zara instinctively looked across the gardens.
Malik stood beside his Range Rover speaking to Keisha.
His shoulders looked heavy.
For the first time since she'd met him, he looked tired.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Camille followed her gaze.
"You don't have to."
Zara hesitated.
"No..."
"I think I will."
The drive began in silence.
Neither of them seemed to know where to start.
Soft jazz played through the speakers while Brooklyn drifted past outside.
Finally Malik spoke.
"I'm sorry."
Zara turned towards him.
"You've apologised three times today."
"I know."
"You can stop."
"I don't think I can."
She watched the road ahead.
"I wasn't scared of Devon."
"I was."
That surprised her.
"You?"
"I wasn't scared for me."
A pause.
"I was scared he saw you."
The honesty landed between them.
Quiet.
Uncomfortable.
Real.
Traffic slowed near a red light.
Malik rested both hands on the steering wheel.
"I've spent years making sure people from my old life stayed exactly there."
He looked straight ahead.
"In the past."
"What happened between you?"
Malik was silent for several moments.
Then he spoke carefully.
"We grew up together."
"We made money together."
"We went to prison because of decisions we made together."
He paused.
"When I got out..."
"I wanted a different life."
"And he didn't?"
"No."
Malik shook his head.
"He thinks changing means forgetting where you came from."
"And you?"
"I think changing means finally becoming who you should've been in the first place."
Zara let those words settle.
"You don't owe me every detail."
"I know."
"But I don't want to build anything with lies."
The sentence lingered in the air.
Build anything.
He hadn't said relationship.
He hadn't said friendship.
But somehow...
It meant both.
They stopped outside a small bakery in Fort Greene.
Malik switched off the engine.
"Hungry?"
Zara smiled.
"Is this your way of distracting me?"
"A little."
"It's working."
Inside, the bakery smelled of butter, cinnamon and fresh bread.
The owner greeted Malik warmly.
"Good to see you."
"You too, Mrs. Alvarez."
"You've brought company."
Malik glanced at Zara.
"I have."
Mrs. Alvarez smiled knowingly before disappearing into the kitchen.
"You know everyone," Zara said.
"I've lived here my whole life."
"People seem to genuinely like you."
He laughed quietly.
"I wasn't always easy to like."
"I don't believe that."
"You should."
He carried two plates to a small corner table.
"I've made enough mistakes to fill several lifetimes."
Zara picked up a warm cinnamon roll.
"My grandmother used to say people who constantly remind you of their mistakes are usually trying to stop themselves making them again."
Malik looked at her.
"I like your grandmother."
A small smile crossed Zara's face.
"You would've."
For the first time, the conversation shifted away from Malik.
"So..."
He rested his elbows on the table.
"Tell me about your dad."
The smile disappeared from Zara's face.
"I don't really remember him."
"Were you young?"
"Eight."
"What happened?"
"My parents divorced."
She looked down at her coffee.
"He moved to Atlanta."
"You stayed?"
"My mum said he chose another family."
"And did he?"
"I honestly don't know."
She shrugged gently.
"I stopped asking."
Malik didn't interrupt.
He simply listened.
"I think..."
She smiled sadly.
"...after a while, you stop chasing people who don't come looking for you."
His chest tightened.
"I know that feeling."
Their eyes met.
No dramatic declarations.
No grand speeches.
Just two people recognising the same loneliness in one another.
When they left the bakery, the afternoon sun had begun to set.
Golden light spilled across the brownstones.
Children rode bikes along the pavement.
Someone played old-school R&B from an upstairs apartment.
Brooklyn felt almost peaceful.
As they reached the car, Malik stopped walking.
"Zara."
She turned.
"I need to ask you something."
"Okay."
"If things become..."
He searched for the right word.
"...complicated."
"You mean because of Devon?"
He nodded.
"I'll understand if you decide you don't want anything to do with me."
Zara looked at him for a long moment.
Then she asked quietly,
"Have you lied to me?"
"No."
"Have you treated me with anything other than respect?"
"No."
"Have you given me a reason not to trust the man I've actually met?"
He didn't answer.
Because he couldn't.
She smiled softly.
"Then I'm not going to let someone else tell me who you are."
For a second, Malik simply stared at her.
Nobody had ever offered him trust before asking for proof.
Most people had done the opposite.
He swallowed.
"You don't know what that means to me."
"You don't have to."
She opened the passenger door.
"You just have to keep giving me reasons I wasn't wrong."
He nodded once.
"I will."
That evening, after dropping Zara home, Malik remained parked outside Miss Claudette's brownstone for several minutes.
He watched as the light came on in her bedroom window.
Only then did he drive away.
Inside, Zara leaned against her bedroom window, watching his taillights disappear around the corner.
Her phone buzzed.
It was Naomi.
Naomi: How did the Foundation visit go?
Zara smiled before typing.
Zara: Complicated.
A reply came almost immediately.
Naomi: Complicated good or complicated bad?
Zara looked out into the Brooklyn evening.
She thought about Devon.
About Foundation House.
About the bakery.
About the way Malik had looked at her when she'd chosen to believe the man standing in front of her instead of the rumours behind him.
She smiled to herself.
Then she typed.
Zara: I'm starting to think the right people don't come into your life when everything is perfect.
They come when you're finally ready to stop running.
She hit send.
For the first time since leaving Tennessee, she wasn't just surviving her new life.
She was beginning to build one.
And somewhere across Brooklyn, Malik Carter was quietly hoping that, despite everything waiting in the shadows, she would still choose to be part of it.