“Zay,” Kam said, elbowing him lightly. “You good?”
He blinked and shook his head a little and whispered back. “Yeah. Just takin’ it all in.”
Simone leaned in toward Love. “We’re huge fans of your work. I know Zay doesn’t read, but I think even he might make an exception for this one.”
Love smiled. This time, it was apparent she was nervous. “That’s a lot of pressure.”
“I’m used to it,” Zay said softly. He locked eyes with her this time. They both smiled. Behind those expressions, neither one ofthem was here. They were both back in Detroit, in her bedroom. In the silence between two pinky-linked promises.
In the kind of love that didn’t die, it just waited.
The Leo I Left Behind
“I’ve done my research,”Malcolm said. His voice cut clean through the loud chatter of the room, “And I really believe he’s the one.”
Zay stood quiet in the circle as Malcolm gestured toward him with confidence.
“Detroit runs through the pages of this story,” Malcolm continued. “And who better to translate that into sound than someone who lived it? Someone who knows what it feels like to grow through grief, rebuild, and create. Zay, man, . . . I think you’re the perfect person to score this film.”
Simone let out a low whistle and nodded. “Honestly? That’s a no-brainer.”
Kam clapped his hands together once. “It’s the alignment we’ve been waiting on.”
Tara, ever the organized observer, tapped something into her phone, already mentally coordinating calendars and contacts. “This would be incredible.”
Zay didn’t say much. Just looked at Malcolm, then briefly at Simone, Kam, and Tara. He could feel Love beside him, standing still, polite, and distant. Her silence was its own presence.
“I just think,” Malcolm added, “Zay could bring out the honesty in this book. His music has that same raw thread, where grit meets vulnerability. It’s time for the story to expand, and I want the sound to carry the same soul.”
The group murmured in agreement. However, Love remained still.
She shifted then smoothed down the side of her dress and spoke gently.
“Excuse me,” she said. “I need to step away for a moment.”
She didn’t wait for anyone to follow.
Tara nodded but remained behind as the conversation flowed on. Kam and Simone started bouncing ideas back and forth about potential collaborators, studio logistics, and what kind of score would elevate a story likeWhen the Rain Stops.
Love was already halfway down the corridor. She slipped around a corner and pulled out her phone. A new message lit up the lock screen from Yana.
Yana:
Hey mom, I recorded myself singing lol. You should hear it.
A file attachment followed.
Love smiled. She could practically hear her daughter’s voice in that message, confident but playful, the same way she used to sound herself before the world told her to be quiet. For a second, the smile stayed.
Suddenly, the past drifted back into her mind, slow and uninvited.
Zay curled up on the floor of her bedroom with the blanket pulled to his chin.
Her sneaking him foil-wrapped cornbread from the kitchen when her mom wasn’t looking.
His taps on the window. Her laughter hushed in the dark.
The way her room felt safer with him in it, even when the winter storm outside was loud. She closed her eyes and exhaled from the weight of it all. Suddenly, a familiar voice spoke from behind her.
