CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
“Learning each other.”
Saturday mornings had quietly become their thing.
Not because they planned them.
Because neither of them ever seemed to have anywhere else they'd rather be.
When Zara arrived at the Brooklyn Youth Community Centre just before nine, the gym was already alive.
Basketballs echoed against polished wooden floors.
Children darted between cones.
Music played softly through the speakers.
The moment Destiny spotted her, she ran the length of the court.
"Orange Juice Lady!"
Zara laughed as the little girl wrapped her arms around her waist.
"I was wondering how long it would take."
"Coach said you'd come."
"Oh, did he?"
Destiny nodded confidently.
"He smiles different when you're here."
Zara looked across the court.
Malik had his back turned, explaining a drill to a group of teenagers.
Almost as though he felt her watching, he looked over his shoulder.
Their eyes met.
He smiled.
Not the smile he gave donors.
Or business partners.
Or cameras.
The one that belonged only to her.
"You two are smiling again," Destiny announced loudly.
Several teenagers looked over.
Malik rubbed a hand over his face.
"I think we're going to need a new nickname for you."
Destiny folded her arms.
"No."
"I'm keeping Orange Juice Lady."
Practice ended with a scrimmage.
Zara found herself keeping score while Malik coached from the sidelines.
"Good pass!"
"Keep moving!"
"Don't force the shot!"
One of the younger boys missed an easy layup before throwing the ball down in frustration.
"I can't do it!"
Malik called him over.
"What happened?"
"I keep messing up."
Malik crouched until they were eye level.
"You know how many free throws I missed when I was your age?"
The little boy shrugged.
"A hundred?"
"More."
"A thousand?"
Malik smiled.
"Probably."
The boy looked doubtful.
"But you're really good."
"I am now."
He tapped the boy gently on the shoulder.
"You're not failing."
"You're practising."
The boy nodded slowly before jogging back onto the court.
Zara watched the exchange quietly.
"You've got that look again."
Coach Raymond appeared beside her.
"What look?"
"The one where you're figuring him out."
She smiled.
"I don't think I'll ever completely figure him out."
Coach Raymond chuckled.
"Neither have we."
After practice, Malik and Zara walked to Mrs. Alvarez's bakery.
The bell above the door jingled as they entered.
Mrs. Alvarez looked up from behind the counter.
"There they are."
Malik sighed.
"I don't like that tone."
She ignored him.
"So..."
She looked directly at Zara.
"Has he finally told you he can't cook rice without burning the pan?"
Malik looked horrified.
"I told you that in confidence."
"You absolutely did."
Zara burst into laughter.
"I knew it!"
"I can cook."
Mrs. Alvarez shook her head.
"No, sweetheart."
"You can order food."
The whole bakery laughed.
Even Malik couldn't help smiling.
Later, they wandered through Prospect Park carrying coffee.
The leaves had begun turning deep shades of amber and crimson.
Children sailed toy boats across the lake.
Dogs chased tennis balls across the grass.
For a while, they simply walked.
Comfortably.
Eventually Zara broke the silence.
"Can I ask you something?"
"You always do."
"What was prison really like?"
Malik didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he watched a father teaching his little daughter how to ride a bicycle.
"When I first got there..."
"I was angry."
"At who?"
"Everyone."
"Myself."
"The judge."
"The world."
He smiled without humour.
"But anger gets exhausting."
"What changed?"
"My mum."
He looked down at his coffee.
"Every single visiting day..."
"...she showed up."
"No matter how disappointed she was."
"No matter how ashamed I felt."
He swallowed.
"She never stopped reminding me I could still become a better man."
Zara slipped her hand into his.
"You have."
He looked at her.
"I'm trying."
"I know."
As they continued walking, Zara's phone buzzed.
She stopped.
Unknown Number.
Again.
Malik noticed immediately.
"Your dad?"
She nodded.
"You don't have to answer."
"I know."
The phone stopped ringing.
A second later, a text arrived.
Whenever you're ready, I'll be here.
Dad.
She stared at the message.
"I don't know what to do."
Malik was quiet for a moment.
"What does your heart want?"
"My heart?"
She laughed sadly.
"My heart's confused."
"Then don't rush it."
He gently squeezed her hand.
"Some conversations deserve the right version of you."
That afternoon, Malik drove Zara home.
Before she got out of the car, she looked at him.
"Thank you."
"For today?"
"For making normal feel... nice."
He smiled softly.
"I used to think love had to be extravagant."
She tilted her head.
"And now?"
"I think it's this."
"What?"
"Buying pastries."
"Walking through the park."
"Holding your hand."
He looked into her eyes.
"I've spent years chasing extraordinary."
He smiled.
"I almost missed how beautiful ordinary can be."
Zara leaned across the centre console and kissed him.
Slowly.
Tenderly.
When she pulled away, she rested her forehead against his.
"I love ordinary."
He smiled.
"So do I."
Neither of them realised it.
But those three words would become one of Zara's most treasured memories.
Because in the months ahead...
Ordinary would become the one thing they would both desperately miss.
Across the city, Devon sat inside his office studying another report.
His investigator placed a folder on the desk.
"I've been digging into Tennessee."
Devon looked up.
"And?"
"The father recently made contact."
Devon's eyes narrowed.
"What else?"
"The relationship between Zara and her mother wasn't what it appeared."
A slow smile spread across his face.
"So she's carrying old wounds too."
He closed the folder.
"Perfect."
The investigator frowned.
"You really think that'll help?"
Devon stood and walked to the window overlooking the city.
"People don't break where they're strongest."
He looked down at the traffic below.
"They break where they've already been cracked."
Outside, the lights of Brooklyn glowed against the evening sky.
Somewhere among them, Zara and Malik believed they were finally building a life together.
Devon intended to prove that the strongest foundations often collapsed from fractures no one else could see.