Page 26 of I See You

"Hassan—"

But before she could finish, he cut her off. "I’m good, Madea."

Harper smacked her lips, shooting her cousin a sharp glare.

"Nigga, don’t cut me off like that."

Helen’s voice hardened, her usual fire not dimmed one bit. "I might be dying, but I will still whoop your ass like you stole something."

Hassan exhaled deeply, leaning back in his chair. "My bad." The apology was there, but his tone held zero sympathy.

Helen didn’t dwell on it. Instead, she shifted in her seat, straightening her posture slightly, as if preparing to say something heavy.

"Well," she started, her voice carrying weight. "I’ll get into why I called this dinner."

Roman and Harper immediately snapped their attention to her, curiosity filling their eyes.

But Hassan?

He didn’t move a muscle. He already knew this wasn’t just about spending time together. Helen had cooked too big of a meal for this to be casual. There was more to this.

Something bigger.

And whatever it was, Hassan already knew— He wasn’t gonna like it.

"You guys know I don’t have much time left," Helen started, her voice steady, but carrying a weight none of them were ready to bear. "And now that I’m going into my last procedure, I’ll be hooked to wires and tubes until God calls me home."

The table fell silent. The words settled—heavy, suffocating, impossible to ignore.

Hassan gripped his fork tighter, his jaw clenching, but he didn’t say anything. Neither did Roman or Harper.

Helen exhaled, her sharp eyes moving to Harper first. She reached for her hand, squeezing it gently, her touch filled with the warmth Harper had known her whole life.

"Hazel," she said, her gaze locking onto hers. "I need you to stay on the right path. Keep doing what you love. Don’t let life’s distractions throw you off."

Harper nodded, her throat tight. She already knew this, but hearing Helen say it—knowing she wouldn’t be here much longer—made it cut deeper.

But then, Helen’s voice softened even more.

"Baby, I know you’re still hurting when it comes to your parents."

Harper stiffened. Her entire demeanor shifted instantly. The warmth in her eyes turned cold.

Distant.

"I know your mother died before you go to know her," Helen admitted, sadness flickering across her face. "But I want you to at least try to have a sit-down conversation with your father."

Harper’s jaw locked as a sharp breath pushed through her nose.

"I don’t want anything to do with him, Madea," she said, her voice hard, edged with a bitterness she had carried for years.

Hassan watched from across the table, already knowing where this was about to go.

He and Harper never talked about their parents. Not really. Because they both carried that same resentment in different ways.

"Can you at least try… for me?" Helen pleaded, her voice raw, filled with something Harper couldn’t ignore.

And just like that—

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