CHAPTER 6
"It's him," I whispered, barely above a breath.
Rose's eyebrow arched. "Already?" Her tone was flat, but I could see the concern lurking in her eyes. She didn't trust him. And honestly? Neither did I.
But here I was. On the phone with him.
I held the phone tighter to my ear, fingers clammy. My heart didn't just skip, it started running a full lap inside my chest.
"Sera?" Malik said again, his voice lower this time. Like he was trying not to scare me off.
"Hey", I said with my voice shaking a little, but I tried to keep it steady. "What's up?"
There was a pause. I could almost feel the energy from his end, like he was deciding how to respond or what else to say.
"I wasn't sure you'd pick up," Malik said, his voice quieter this time. Not sharp. Not slick. Just… low. Honest? I really couldn't tell.
I cleared my throat. "I didn't recognize the number."
Rose watched me, her mouth pressed into a line. She didn't say a word, but the look on her face? It was loud.
"I figured," he said. "Didn't want to call through my office line."
Office. I nearly scoffed. That word had a different weight now.
There was a pause.
"Why are you calling me?" I asked, not harsh. Just... tired.
"I… I… wanted to apologize," Malik said, his voice steady. "For how everything unfolded. I should've said more that day."
I looked away from Rose, eyes settling on a crack in the wall like it held answers. "It wasn't just how it unfolded. It was who you turned out to be."
He was quiet for a second. Then, "I get that."
I didn't respond.
"I didn't call to explain everything over the phone," he said. "I just… wanted to see if I could talk to you. In person. Clear the air. No pressure."
I blinked. "You want to meet?"
"Nothing formal. Just… a conversation. No pressure. Just you and me. Somewhere public. I owe you that much."
Rose was watching me closely, her eyes drilling into me, searching for something. What, I didn't know. But she wasn't going to let me make this decision alone. I could feel it.
"I don't know…" I muttered into the phone. "I don't even know what you want from me, Malik. This… all of this is too much right now."
"I get it," he replied, and his voice softened, making my breath hitch. "But I think we owe it to ourselves to clear the air. I'm not asking for anything other than a chance to explain."
A chance to explain? What did he even mean by that?
I bit my lip, feeling the pressure rising in my chest. Part of me wanted to say no, to hang up, to forget about it. But then another part of me, the part that had felt something shift during that brief conversation at the conference, was fighting it. Fighting the pull of his voice.
I didn't even know why I was considering it. Maybe it was the curiosity. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn't given up.
"Fine," I said, already regretting it but too deep into the conversation to pull back now. "We'll talk."
"Oh, thank you so much Sera." he said.
"Where?" I asked.
There was a pause, like he wasn't expecting that question so soon.
"Eva's Café. Just off 116th. You know it?"
I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. "Yeah. I know it."
"When will you be free?". He asked.
Rose was already using her eyes to flog me. "I'd get back to you Sir."
"You sure?"
"I'll try," I muttered. "But I said okay, didn't I?"
He gave a small laugh through the line. Not mocking. Just... warm.
I hung up without saying anything else, and I just stood there, staring at the phone, then at Rose.
Rose's voice cut through the silence, sharp as ever. "Girl. No. You can't be serious." I sighed, leaning back on the wall.
"I'm not agreeing to anything serious," I said. "It's just a conversation."
"I don't like this, Sera. You're not seeing it. He's trying to use his position to get close to you. He's not just some random guy; he's your dad's boss. He's got power, and he knows how to use it."
I turned toward her, feeling the tension in the air. "I know. I'm not stupid, Rose. I don't need you to tell me what I already know."
She sighed. "I didn't say that."
Then she crossed her arms over her chest, her lips pressed into a tight line. "Then why are you going to meet him?"
"You're making it sound like he trapped me."
"I'm making it sound like what it is. Power games. Men like him? They don't do stuff for free, Sera."
That stung more than I expected. I bit my lip, looking down at my fingers. Ink smudged the side of my hand from earlier writing.
I felt something hard twist in my chest. It wasn't just her anger I was hearing, it was the concern. She cared. I could tell. She wasn't trying to control me, she was trying to protect me.
Rose softened. A little. "I just don't want you caught up in something you can't back out of."
There was a beat of silence, heavy and uneven.
Then I asked, "Do you really think Jordan's better for me?"
Her eyes darted to mine, quick. "I think Jordan loves you. For real."
Rose opened her mouth, then closed it again.
"Maybe I'm not defending Malik," I said. "Maybe I'm just tired of defending everybody else."
The rest of the evening moved in slow, uneven pieces. Rose didn't say much after that. We sat at the cafeteria with the radio low, the kind of silence that's full of words no one's ready to say. When I finally left campus, the sky had turned a soft bruise color, Harlem moving low and familiar beneath it.
I walked home.
Didn't call Big G.
Didn't answer Jordan's text either.
Just let the city carry me, my feet dragging slow on the sidewalk. The air smelled like corner-store grease and wind off the river. My mind was too loud for my body to feel tired.
At home, Dad wasn't around. Probably picked up an extra shift. His coat was gone, but his thermos still sat on the kitchen counter. I touched it like it might give me answers.
Nothing did.
I ended up in my room, door half-closed, phone glowing in my hand. I stared at Malik's name, thumb hovering over the call button.
I didn't call.
I typed instead.
"I'm free tomorrow. 6pm."
Simple. Neutral. Familiar ground.
He replied almost instantly.
"I'll be there."
The next day came with a steady hum in my chest I couldn't quiet. I tried to go through class like normal, but I was distracted. Could barely eat lunch. Couldn't write. My fingers kept tapping my desk like they were waiting for a beat that wouldn't drop.
By 5:30, I was standing in front of Eva's Café, still deciding if I was actually gonna walk in.
The place had that warm, amber glow behind the windows. Cozy booths, old jazz humming low through speakers. The kind of café that smelled like cinnamon and secrets. People inside were mostly older. A couple students tucked in the back with headphones, one old man reading a newspaper like it was still 1999.
I glanced at the door. My reflection stared back, but it didn't tell me what to do.
At 5:58, I walked in.
The bell over the door jingled, soft but sharp enough to turn a few heads. I scanned the room, heart pacing faster now.
And then I saw him.
Malik.
Already seated. Corner booth. No blazer. No suit. Just a grey sweatshirt and jeans, like any other guy walking through Harlem.
But he wasn't any other guy. That was the problem.
His eyes met mine.
He stood.
My breath hitched.
He didn't smile.
Neither did I.
I walked toward him, every step louder in my head than it actually was.
He held the seat for me.
I paused. Tension hung between us like fog that hadn't cleared yet.
I sat.
He sat.
Our eyes locked.
And then…