Page 68 of Free to Fall

We lay there in silence, wrapped around each other. Our grief was loud, our pain unspoken, but the love between us still pulsed like a heartbeat.

Even in this, I knew we would survive this.

We had to.

It wasa strange feeling bringing him home like this.

The house was quiet when we stepped through the door. Too quiet. I’d left in a rush; everything had been so chaotic… but somehow it still smelled like us. Like fresh linen and cologne. Like candles I hadn’t had the energy to light in days. Like comfort.

Nasseem leaned against me as I helped guide him through the foyer. His left side was still stiff, slower. The bandages on his shoulder peeked out from under his hoodie. He was walking better than I expected, but every step still made me wince.

“Almost there,” I murmured, tightening my arm around his waist.

He didn’t say much, but when he did look at me, there was so much love in his eyes. So much regret too.

Just like he promised, the movers had already come and gone. A stack of boxes sat in the corner by the stairs—clothes, sneakers, colognes, watches. His PS5 was already hooked up to the TV in the bedroom. The same bedroom that was now ours.

He said he’d put his condo on the market. Said he wasn’t sure yet if he wanted to sell or lease it out. That was before the shooting. Before we lost everything.

Now he hadn’t brought it up once.

I didn’t push.

I helped him into our bed, propping up the pillows and getting his meds from the bag the hospital sent us home with. He hadn’t let go of the ultrasound picture once since it was handed back to him. It was folded in half and tucked in the front pocket of his hoodie like it belonged to his heartbeat.

“You good?” I asked, brushing the curls off his forehead once I got him situated.

“I am now,” he said, lips barely lifting into a smile. “You gon’ lay with me?”

“In a little bit. Lemme get you fed first.”

“Alright. Don’t forget the extra sauce.”

That almost made me smile. “I got you.”

Once he was settled, I pulled out my phone to order food. Thai—his favorite. Something warm. Spicy. Healing. I was halfway through typing in the order when the knock came at the door. At first, I didn’t move. I hadn’t expected anybody. Then I remembered…Nana.

She told me before we left Memphis that she was gonna “get us started”, her words, for the baby. I told her not to, said we had time, but she waved me off and said she’d already found neutral colors and couldn’t wait.

I never thought the delivery would actually show up. When I opened the door and saw the stack of boxes sitting on the porch, my stomach dropped. I didn’t cry. Not yet.

The boxes weren’t big. Three medium-sized ones, stacked neatly with a bow tied around the top. A card was taped to the side.

For your blessing. Can’t wait to hold them. – Nana.

My throat closed. My eyes burned. But I didn’t cry. I carried the boxes inside and placed them just outside the guest room…the one I’d been eyeing as a nursery.

The door was already cracked, and I could see inside. The small stack of baby books in the corner, the crib I ordered after my appointment in Memphis, still in its unopened box. The plush giraffe I found on Etsy. The shelf I hadn’t hung yet.

I stared at all of it. The pieces of a dream that would never be finished. But I didn’t go in. I couldn’t. Instead, I shut the door gently, like I was trying not to wake something sacred, and stepped back into the hallway.

The food still wasn’t here. Nasseem was in the bedroom, resting. And me? I needed a moment. I grabbed a pre-roll from the tin in my kitchen drawer—something Serenity gave me months ago when she said I looked entirely too sober for this life. I hadn’t touched it in weeks. Not since I found out I was pregnant.

I lit it on the balcony and took a slow pull. The smoke burned going down. Sharp. Bitter. Familiar. The first tear hit my cheek before I even exhaled. I didn’t wipe it away. I just stood there, letting the wind brush past my skin, letting the smoke calm my nerves. I’d spent so much time in survival mode these past few days, making sure Nas was okay, making sure the doctors did what they needed to do, making sure the world didn’t know I was falling apart.

But out here…on this balcony, in the dark, with no one but the stars to witness it—I could break. And I did. I cried for the baby we’d never meet. I cried for the excitement I’d buried, for the names I never wrote down. For the tiny socks and bibsand blankets that now sat behind a closed door. I cried for the version of myself that believed love could fix everything. I cried because I still loved him. Even after everything.

I leaned against the railing, holding the blunt between my fingers, and stared up at the sky. “You would’ve had the best dad,” I whispered, voice cracking. “He would’ve spoiled you. Taught you how to fight, how to protect yourself. You would’ve been so loved…”

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