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Goddamn it.
I wandered through the rooms, my fingers trailing over surfaces, feeling the textures and absorbing the scents. Zuri’s lovely presence was everywhere, in the choice of colors, the arrangement of flowers, the selection of books on the shelves.
I could almost hear her laugh, and see her smile.
And yet, as I moved deeper into the condo, my mind was still on a constant lookout for signs of Alonzo or any other man—a third toothbrush in the bathroom, men’s shoes by the door, a jacket that wasn’t her size. Anything that would confirm my irrational fear.
But there was nothing.
Just Zuri’s touch, her elegance, her life.
And that should have reassured me, but instead, it intensified my longing, my need to see her, to hold her, to explain why I’d been such an idiot while in prison.
I stepped into a small room, a space that must have served as Zuri’s home office. It was a cozy yet efficient area. A sleek laptop sat atop a well-organized desk, surrounded by color-coded folders and neatly stacked documents.
The walls were adorned with a large bulletin board, plastered with notes, photos, and Carmen’s colorful drawings.
One wall proudly displayed a framed law degree.
She’s a lawyer? Holy shit.
Stunned, I went up to the degree.
Paradice City Law School. How were you able to pay for it all?
The degree hung above a small bookshelf, crammed with an array of books ranging from campaign strategies and social justice literature to a scattering of romance novels.
A plush armchair with a casually tossed throw blanket occupied one corner, suggesting long nights of work or deep reading sessions.
A small potted plant on the windowsill soaked up the sunlight filtering through the blinds.
In the corner, a box of files caught my attention. I approached it, noting the layer of dust that suggested they hadn’t been touched in a while.
What type of lawyer are you?
Curiosity piqued; I rifled through the contents.
Oh shit.
To my surprise, I found extensive research and notes related to my appeal—Zuri’s handwriting scrawled across pages of legal arguments and case studies. It was clear she had begun work on it, but due to my not providing a signed approval, she could not move forward.
Idiot.
I sifted through the files. There was my pride in her dedication and achievements, but also a deep sense of regret and longing.
Zuri had built this life, pursued her passion, all while I was absent.
I was a ghost in her world, existing in the shadows of her unfulfilled plans and unspoken hopes.
I returned to the front of the office.
And there, on the desk, a framed photograph stopped me in my tracks.
It was a captivating image of Zuri on her law school graduation day, her face radiant with achievement and hope. Her long dreadlocks were styled elegantly, cascading over her shoulders, framing her proud smile.
Fuck, baby. You are gorgeous and amazing. I’m so proud of you.
In her arms, she held our daughter.
Carmen must have been two-years-old. Chubby cheeks and a deep caramel complexion. Curly black curls and green eyes. She wore her mother’s graduation cap, humorously oversized on her small head.
How had I let this happen? How had I missed out on so much?
The revenge, getting back at Crimson Mob—it all seemed so trivial compared to this.
This family.
This love.
This connection that was still there, waiting for me to reclaim it.
But could I? Could I really step back into her life after all these years, after all the choices I’d made?
I stood there for what felt like hours, lost in thought, torn between the past and the present, between revenge and desire.
Tears spilled from my eyes.
Get it together. Now.
With a heavy heart, I walked away and wiped my eyes. I knew what I had to do. I had to see her, talk to her, explain everything.
I had to make things right.
A new resolve settled within me.
The mission could wait.
Revenge could wait.
Zuri and my child were my priority now.
And nothing would stand in my way.
My feet carried me further into the condo.
The first door I opened revealed her bedroom, an elegant space filled with plush pillows and soft fabrics. I found no evidence of another man staying overnight.
Alonzo, have you made love to my Zuri?
Rage waved through me.
For your sake, I hope not.
My eyes went to her dresser.
And there, I found myself opening her underwear drawer and lifting a pair of her panties. The soft white fabric smoothed against my skin.
Zuri. . .
Unable to help myself, I inhaled deeply and let her scent fill my senses.
God yes.
It was intimate and wrong, but in that moment, it connected me to her in a way that was painfully intense.
I missed you so much, baby.
I stuffed them into my pocket, a stolen moment, a secret connection.
Now for Carmen’s room.
It was right next door.
As I stepped into my daughter’s room, the sheer whimsy and joy of it struck me. It was like walking into a world crafted from the dreams of a child. The walls were a soft, pastel pink, creating a warm, inviting space. Plush toys of every size and shape were scattered about, from teddy bears to unicorns.
