Page 126 of I See You

And she was waking things in him he thought were gone forever. The thought made his chest tighten. His jaw clenched as a familiar heat rose in his blood—anger, grief, confusion all tangled into one. He hatedfeelingvulnerable.Hatedthatshehadthatkindofpowerover him. Hated that her touch could still his chaos.

He didn’t want to let anyone in. Couldn’t. Not after what he’d lost.

But Sevyn was different. Uncontrollable. Unshakable.

And the truth he couldn’t deny, no matter how hard he tried? He didn’t want to stay away.

Hassan finally pulled into the hospital parking lot, sliding his car into the space beside Harper’s. He was already late. He knew it. And even with his grandmother slipping further from this world, he could still hear her voice in his head—cussing him out for making her wait. He moved fast, cutting through the hospice facility’s entrance and giving the nurses at the front desk a small nod. No words. Just a look.

They knew him by now.

He made his way down the long hallway to the back, where his grandmother’s room was tucked away in the quiet corner of the building. He knocked once, then pushed the door open.

The smell of sterile air mixed with the faint scent of lavender. Inside, Harpersatacrossfrom Helen ata smalltable,mid-laugh, her face lit up as Helen slammed a card down with that same fiery attitude she always had. Helen was winning, and proud of it.

But when her eyes met Hassan’s, her expression softened. A slow, weak smile curved her lips.

That smile always got him.

She looked different now. Her vibrant brown skin was dimmed, her frame thinner than it should’ve been, her features drawn. The light in her eyes was still there, but it flickered instead of burning. Life was slowly draining from her, but even now, she looked at him like he was still her whole heart.

Still her baby boy.

“Hey, Madea,” Hassan said, walking over and pressing a kiss to her forehead. The warmth of her skin against his lips did something to him—melted a little of the tension he’d been carrying.

“’Bout time you showed up,” Helen grumbled, voice raspy but strong. “Thought I was gon’ have to get out this damn bed and track your ass down myself.”

And the way she said it? He knew she meant it. If she could, she absolutely would’ve.

Hassan let out a breath of a laugh, shaking his head. “You still crazy.”

He turned to Harper. “Wassup, Harp.”

“Hey, San,” she said softly, her eyes still focused on the game as she placed a card down.

The room went quiet for a beat.

There was love in the air. Real love. The kind that wrapped around you even when it was heavy. Even when it hurt.

They settled into the room with light conversation, the soft hum of the soap opera playing in the background as Harper and Helen gossiped like they always did. It was their routine—laughing at the characters, arguing about who was sleeping with who, and acting like they weren’t watching reruns for the fifth time. Hassan sat quiet in the corner, saying nothing, just watching. Despite the blankness in his expression, his chest was tight, his thoughts louder than anything on the screen. He couldn't bear the thought of Helen actually leaving this earth. Even though he didn’t meet her until he was sixteen, she had been the only woman to love him after his mother’s death. The only one who saw past his brokenness and didn’t flinch. She took him in when he was already grown and angry at the world. And despite the hell he gave her in the beginning—breaking shit, yelling, pushing— she never stopped loving him. Never judged him. Never gave up. And for that, he was grateful in ways he didn’t know how to say out loud.

Helookedathernow,herfrailbodyproppedupwithpillows, a soft smile on her face as she laid another card down on the table. She was weaker, her skin a little duller, her fire dimmed—but not gone. Helen had always been a fighter. Whether that meant beating cancer or beating ass, she didn’t back down. And even as life slowly slipped from her, she still held her chin high. Still talked shit. Still loved hard. Hassan clenched his fist in his lap as the weight of it all pressed harder on his chest. His eyes flicked to Harper, still smiling, stillplaying,buthecouldseeitinher.Thesadnessshewastrying to hide. Helen was her whole world. Raised her from a baby. She wasn’t just losing a grandmother—she was losing her foundation, her mother, her protector, all in one.

His jaw tightened as his fingers began to shake again, the helplessness clawing at him. He couldn’t save Helen. He couldn’t heal Harper. He couldn’t do anything except sit there and feel himself slowly unravel. He shut his eyes and inhaled, trying to pull it together, to silence the ache swelling in his chest. But the sharp ring of his phone snapped his eyes open and pulled him straight back into reality. He reached into his pocket, jaw clenched tight, already bracing himself for whatever storm was on the other end.

HelookeddownathisphonetoseeNovacalling—again.His jaw clenched as he hit decline without hesitation. Ever since Sevyn walked into his office mid-stroke, Nova had been on some extra clingy, possessive shit. She used to play her position. She knew not to press him, knew her role was limited to when and where he decided. But lately, she’d been acting jealous, calling more, texting like they had something deeper than they did—and he was getting tired of it.

Seconds later, the phone buzzed again with her name. Another call. Another decline.

“Turn that damn phone off. Business, and those bitches can wait,” Helen said from across the room, her tone stern, laced with that old- school authority she always carried.

Without a word, Hassan powered it down and slid it back into his pocket. “My bad, Madea,” he replied, voice even, eyes cold.

But truth was, she was right. He needed this break. No distractions. No Nova. No business. Just peace—for however long he could have it.

And somehow, despite everything, he found it.

For the first time in a long time, he actually felt connected. Hesat with Harper and Helen, laughing, talking shit over dominoes, watching TV. They acted like a real family. No street shit. No blood on his hands. Just warmth. Just love. And though he’d never say it out loud, he was enjoying it.

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