Page 117 of Rose
“This piece just tugs at so many emotions,” she whispered. “Makes me think about everyone I’ve lost. The ones who were never really there. And the ones that were taken from me.”
Her voice didn’t crack, but the weight behind it did. Savior tightened his hold, firm but soft, his silence giving her room to breathe.
“And the fact that my brother’s been there through all of it,” she added, more to herself than him.
Savior stayed quiet, letting her unravel at her own pace.
She turned to him slowly, eyes glassy. “You want to know another fact about me?”
“I want to knoweverythingabout you,” he replied. “On your time.”
She sighed and dabbed beneath her eyes with her finger before the tears could fall. Her hand went to the necklace around her neck, her fingers tracing the name etched in gold.
“Willow is…” She paused. “Was my daughter.”
The words broke through her lips like a whisper from a haunted place.
And then the dam cracked.
Tears spilled down her cheeks, free and quiet, but she didn’t crumble. She stood in it. Strong, even in the breaking.
“I lost her a year ago,” she said, her voice trembling. “The scar on my stomach? That’s from the c-section. I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl who didn’t live long enough to take her first breath.”
More tears followed, but she didn’t stop. Saying it aloud opened a wound she’d buried too deep to heal.
Savior remained still, not daring to interrupt. His hand stayed at her waist, his presence wrapped around her like armor. But before he could say anything, Ahzii stepped back. Quick. Hurried. Gone from his arms in an instant.
She rushed toward the bathroom, heels clicking against the polished floor.
He almost went after her. Every instinct told him to, but he knew better.
She needed space. Not comfort. Not words. Not pity. She needed an escape.
Savior sipped his champagne, his eyes drifting back to the painting A’Mazi had done as a kid. He’d seen Mazi’s talent in ink before—but this? This piece was layered in soul. In memory. It was pure.
The sharp buzz of his phone broke the silence.
He glanced down.
Allure calling.
His heart jumped. She hadn’t come out of the bathroom. Hadn’t texted or called. Nothing—until now.
He answered immediately. “Allure? You good?”
Her voice came through low, heavy. Still thick with emotion. “My boundary, Savior. I need my fuck buddy.”
He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t speak. Just moved.
He was already walking toward the bathroom before the call ended. He knew what she needed now wasn’t comfort or conversation. Not even healing.
She needed release. Escape. Something to drown in that wouldn’t break her further.
And that’s exactly what he was going to be.
Savior stepped into the women’s restroom, his eyes immediately finding Ahzii.
She was leaning against the wall, head back, eyes closed. Her makeup was smudged, dried tear streaks painting her cheeks like warpaint. The quiet hum of the empty stalls confirmed they were alone.
