After the Walls

Our House

Malik’s POV

The house looked different when I knew I was about to walk inside it.

I had seen it before on video calls, in pictures, in little pieces whenever Alina turned her camera around to show me something. I knew the color of her couch. I knew where she kept pictures of the kids. I knew the kitchen she complained about cleaning after everybody ate.

But knowing a place through a screen was not the same as standing in the driveway.

Alina put the car in park.

“We’re here.”

I looked at the house, then at her.

“Home?”

She smiled. “Home.”

That word was going to mess me up for a while.

I unbuckled my seat belt and reached for the door, but Alina caught my arm.

“Wait.”

“What?”

She stared at me like she suddenly forgot something.

“Nothing. I just…”

“You nervous again?”

“No.”

“Trouble.”

“Malik.”

I smiled. “What?”

Her eyes softened. “I’ve imagined bringing you here so many times.”

I reached over and touched her cheek.

“Well, you did it.”

She nodded.

“We did it.”

That sounded better.

I got out of the car and stood still for a second. No officer asking where I was going. No gate behind me. No line painted on concrete telling me where I could stand.

Just a driveway.

Alina popped the trunk.

“You helping or you planning on admiring the neighborhood all day?”

“There she go.”

“I carried all this stuff to the car by myself.”

“And now you got a man.”

The words came out before I thought about them.

Alina froze.

I froze too.

Then she slowly looked at me.

“Oh, I got a man now?”

I grabbed my bag before she could see how hard I was smiling.

“That’s what I heard.”

“Interesting.”

“Very.”

She grabbed one of the smaller bags.

I took it from her.

“I got it.”

“I can carry something.”

“I know.”

“Then give it back.”

“No.”

“Malik.”

“Open the door, Alina.”

She stared at me for two seconds, then turned toward the house.

“Already bossy.”

I followed her up the walkway.

“Already hardheaded.”

She unlocked the door, pushed it open, and stepped aside.

I stopped at the threshold.

“Why are you standing there?”

I looked inside.

Everything suddenly felt bigger than a house.

This was where she slept while I was locked up.

Where she answered my calls.

Where she cried after some of our arguments.

Where she sat when she told me she didn’t know if she could keep doing this.

Where she prayed for me.

Where life kept happening while mine was controlled by schedules and steel doors.

And now she was making space for me inside it.

“Malik?”

I looked at her.

She wasn’t joking anymore.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

I nodded.

Then I stepped inside.

The door closed behind me.

I turned around.

Alina noticed.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

I touched the lock.

Turned it.

Unlocked it.

Locked it again.

She didn’t say anything.

I opened the door.

Outside.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

Outside.

Mine to open.

When I turned around, Alina’s eyes were shiny.

“Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re about to cry.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You definitely are.”

She laughed through it.

“Shut up.”

I walked over and wrapped my arms around her.

She pressed her face into my chest.

“You keep making me emotional today.”

“I ain’t doing nothing.”

“That’s the problem.”

I kissed the top of her head.

After a minute, she pulled away.

“Come on. Let me show you everything.”

“I already know your house.”

“You know FaceTime angles.”

“That’s enough.”

“No, it is not.”

She took my hand and pulled me through the living room.

I let her.

She showed me the kitchen like I hadn’t just watched her cook in it a hundred times. She showed me where towels were kept, which cabinet was apparently forbidden territory because it was organized exactly how she wanted it, and which side of the refrigerator belonged to drinks.

“You got rules for everything.”

“I like order.”

“You got five kids.”

“Exactly why I need order.”

Fair point.

Then she opened a cabinet.

My snacks were inside.

Not prison snacks.

Things I had mentioned wanting over the years.

I looked at her.

“What?”

“You remembered all this?”

She shrugged.

“You talk a lot.”

“Alina.”

“What?”

I picked up a box.

“I said something about these like two years ago.”

“And?”

“And you remembered?”

She avoided my eyes.

“I remember stuff.”

Yeah.

She did.

Especially the things she pretended weren’t important.

I put the box back and kissed her forehead.

“Thank you.”

“You already thanked me.”

“I’m probably gonna do that a lot.”

Her face softened.

“Okay.”

She led me down the hallway.

My chest started feeling strange before we even reached the bedroom.

She opened the door.

“This is us.”

Us.

Not mine.

Us.

I walked inside.

The bed was made perfectly.

Naturally.

Alina probably remade it this morning after deciding the pillows weren’t sitting right.

There were clothes folded on one side.

Shoes near the closet.

Toiletries on the dresser.

I walked toward the closet and opened it.

Half empty.

I looked back.

“You cleared this out?”

“For you.”

“You gave me half?”

“Don’t get excited. Your stuff better stay on your half.”

I laughed.

But she had no idea what I was really looking at.

Space.

She had made physical space for me.

Not a drawer.

Not a corner.

Half.

I ran my hand along the empty hangers.

“You didn’t have to do all this.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

I turned toward her.

“Why?”

Her expression said the answer should have been obvious.

“Because you live here now.”

I swallowed.

There were moments a man didn’t want anybody watching him too closely.

This was one.

I turned back toward the closet.

“Malik.”

“I heard you.”

“You okay?”

“Stop asking me that.”

“No.”

I laughed quietly.

Then I faced her.

“I’m trying to process it.”

“What part?”

“All of it.”

I looked around.

“I spent years talking about coming home like I knew what that meant.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m standing in it.”

She walked toward me.

“You don’t have to figure everything out tonight.”

“I know.”

“You don’t have to prove anything tonight either.”

I knew what she meant.

We had talked about this.

About me coming home and wanting to immediately become everything I couldn’t be while I was inside.

Provider.

Protector.

Partner.

Present.

I wanted to fix every moment I had missed.

But years couldn’t be repaired in an afternoon.

“I want to do right by you.”

Her eyes held mine.

“Then do right by me one day at a time.”

I nodded.

“One day.”

“One day.”

Then she smiled.

“Starting with putting your own clothes away.”

I stared at her.

“You serious?”

“Very.”

“First day?”

“Freedom comes with responsibilities.”

I shook my head.

“I should’ve stayed in the car.”

“Too late. Your address changed.”

I laughed.

She walked toward the doorway.

“Where you going?”

“To let you breathe.”

I caught her hand.

“Who said I needed you to leave?”

She looked down at our hands.

“I thought you might want a minute.”

“I had enough minutes without you.”

That stopped her.

I pulled her closer.

She came willingly.

My hands settled around her waist.

Her arms rested against my chest.

For a second, neither of us spoke.

This was different from the parking lot.

Different from the restaurant.

We were alone.

Alone.

I could hear the air conditioner.

A car passing outside.

Her breathing.

No voices through walls.

No keys.

No announcements.

No somebody watching.

Alina looked up at me.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You staring again.”

“I can.”

She smiled.

“You keep using that.”

“Because I keep realizing it.”

I touched her cheek.

“I can stand here as long as I want.”

“Yes.”

“Kiss you as long as I want.”

Her eyebrows lifted.

“Within reason.”

I laughed.

“There go them rules.”

“This is still my house.”

“Our house.”

The words slipped out.

Her smile disappeared.

For one second, I wondered if I had gone too far.

Then she whispered, “Our house.”

Something settled inside me.

I leaned down and kissed her.

Slow.

No rush.

No officer.

No countdown.

When I pulled away, her eyes stayed closed for a second.

I smiled.

“You good?”

She opened them.

“Don’t start.”

“I’m just checking.”

“You’re irritating.”

“You love me.”

She rolled her eyes.

But she didn’t move away.

I looked toward the bed.

Then back at her.

She caught it.

“Malik Wright.”

I laughed.

“What?”

“Don’t look at my bed like that.”

“Our bed.”

“See, now you doing too much.”

I pulled her closer.

“I ain’t even said nothing.”

“You didn’t have to.”

I kissed her forehead.

Truth was, I had thought about that bed more than I’d admit.

But standing there with her, something else mattered more.

I was home.

Not visiting.

Not passing through.

Home.

And tonight, when the lights went out, nobody was coming to take me away.