Page 170 of Rose
She nodded, then shook her head. “I’m nervous.”
“Don’t be,” he said softly. “Your art is amazing, and people know that. They packed out the house foryou, baby.”
She chuckled quietly, but it didn’t steady her. “Can you call my brother? I need him.”
Without hesitation, Savior pulled out his phone and dialed A’Mazi. Seconds later, she saw him step out of the other Escalade and head straight for theirs.
“I’ll be right out there if you need me,” Savior said, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips before stepping out to join the others.
The moment the door closed, A’Mazi slipped into the seat beside her.
“Shug, you okay? What’s going on?” he asked, concern softening his voice.
Ahzii gave him a watery smile. “I want us to walk in together. This night... it’s not just about me. It’s about us. Our journey. Our life. I wouldn’t be standing here—breathing—if it wasn’t for you, Maz.”
Her voice cracked at the end. A’Mazi didn’t say a word, just pulled her into a hug. He wore a red tailored suit that mirrored her dress, paired with sleek black shoes and the same gold and red rose lapel pin Savior wore. His locs were freshly twisted, flowing down his back in clean ropes, framing his face like royalty.
“I’d be honored to walk in with you,” he said.
She took a deep breath, holding back tears. “If our parents were here... do you think they’d be proud of us?”
A’Mazi gave a small smile. They never talked much about their parents after losing them, but the ache never went away.
“Hell yeah,” he said, his voice thick.
Ahzii chuckled softly, nodding. “Then let’s go continue to make them proud.”
Just then, their security opened the door.
Camera flashes lit the pavement as they stepped out. The crowd roared. But Ahzii didn’t hear any of it.
Her heart was with her brother, walking into a night that belonged to the both of them.
Ahzii waved at the crowd like she was walking a red carpet, flashing a radiant smile and striking poses with A’Mazi as camera flashes lit up around them. It felt surreal—the line of people outside, the gasps of admiration, the way everyone turned when she walked in.
The inside of Gold was just as packed, if not more. The restaurant had been transformed. Tables and chairs were cleared out, replaced with soft lighting and pristine displays of art. A massive video played on the wall behind the main bar, showcasing the journey of two kids who had nothing but each other and a dream. From grainy photos of their teen years when Bianca first took them in, to glossy snapshots of them standing in front of their businesses, smiling, surviving, becoming.
Sarai’s team moved gracefully through the space, passing out glasses of champagne as guests mingled in elegant attire, admiring every brushstroke and sculpture that told a piece of Ahzii’s soul.
She spotted Savior across the room, standing in a small circle with Kyre, Chris, Sincere, Sarai, Bianca, and Aunt Marley. The moment their eyes met, her nerves quieted. His smile, subtle but certain, was a lighthouse in the chaos.
As she and A’Mazi approached, Kyre was the first to react, beaming with pride.
“This is so beautiful. I’m proud of you both!” Kyre said, pulling Ahzii into a warm hug, then leaning over to kiss A’Mazi softly on the lips.
“Couldn’t have done it without my rider,” Ahzii said, eyes glistening with gratitude. Kyre had never left her side—not in the darkest moments, not even when the fire threatened to take everything. That kind of love wasn’t replaceable.
The group took turns embracing them, offering heartfelt congratulations before slipping off to explore the gallery.
Ahzii reached for Savior’s hand and laced her fingers with his. “Come on,” she said, pulling him gently toward her favorite part of the exhibit.
The first painting she showed him was the one that had taken her weeks to finish—a sketch that had turned into a full-scale canvas. It was a portrait of a baby girl, soft curls framing her cherubic face, eyes full of light.
The gold template beneath the frame read:
“Willow Miani Rose-Davis. A forever Rose.”
“She’s beautiful,” Savior said quietly.
