Unhidden

Chapter Eighteen-Jamal

I couldn’t breathe.

The moment I stepped outside Andre’s apartment, it felt like the entire world had become too loud.

Cars were moving.

People were talking.

Phones were ringing.

Somewhere nearby, someone was laughing.

But I heard none of it properly.

All I could hear was Andre.

I need us to break up.

I stopped walking.

My chest tightened so badly that I had to put one hand against the side of the building.

“No.”

The word came out barely above a whisper.

“No.”

He couldn’t mean it.

Andre couldn’t mean it.

He loved me.

He had said it.

He had looked me directly in the eyes and told me he still loved me.

So why did it feel like I had just lost him?

I wiped my face quickly.

People were looking at me.

I didn’t care.

I started walking again.

My hands were shaking as I pulled out my phone.

Andre’s name was still on the screen from our last call.

I stared at it.

My thumb hovered over his name.

I wanted to call.

I wanted to go back upstairs.

I wanted to knock on his door until he opened it.

I wanted to tell him everything.

I wanted to tell him I was gay.

I wanted to tell him that I loved him.

I wanted to tell him that he was my boyfriend.

My partner.

The man I had loved for four years.

The man whose apartment had become the only place where I felt completely like myself.

But then I thought about my father.

Akeem.

My mother.

Malik.

The family.

The company.

The cameras.

The newspapers.

The statement.

The video.

Everything came crashing back.

I lowered the phone.

I couldn’t.

Not yet.

I couldn’t tell them.

I didn’t know how.

I didn’t know what would happen if I did.

And maybe that made me a coward.

Maybe Andre was right.

Maybe I had spent four years protecting myself.

But what was I supposed to do?

Walk into my father’s study and say,

Dad, I’m gay.

What would happen after that?

Would he look at me the way he always looked at men he considered weak?

Would he disown me?

Would he take me out of Carter Group?

Would he cut me off?

Would my mother cry?

Would Malik hate me?

Would the family name become another headline?

Would everyone look at me differently?

Would they blame Andre?

Would they try to destroy him?

I couldn’t let that happen.

And yet…

I had already allowed them to destroy him.

My stomach turned.

“God.”

I called my driver.

I couldn’t drive.

Not like this.

Twenty minutes later, I was sitting in the back seat of the car, staring through the window.

My phone kept vibrating.

Andre.

No.

Not Andre.

My own stupid mind.

I had no missed calls from him.

Nothing.

Of course I didn’t.

I had spent the last two days calling him.

He had finally answered me only to tell me he needed space.

And now I had to give it to him.

I pressed my forehead against the window.

“I lost him.”

The driver didn’t respond.

He probably hadn’t heard me.

I hoped he hadn’t.

When the gates of the Carter estate opened, I immediately felt the weight return.

This house.

This family.

This life.

Everything looked exactly the same.

Security at the entrance.

Perfect landscaping.

The enormous stone staircase.

The polished windows.

The expensive cars parked outside.

Everything was beautiful.

Everything was controlled.

Everything was perfect.

Except me.

I stepped inside.

Nadine was in the sitting room.

She looked up immediately.

Her eyes widened.

“Jamal?”

I stopped.

She stood.

“Baby?”

I tried to smile.

It didn’t work.

She came toward me.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

She stared at my face.

“You’ve been crying.”

“I’m fine.”

“Jamal.”

“I’m fine, Mom.”

She reached for my face.

I stepped back before she could touch me.

Her expression changed.

Concern.

Deep concern.

“Did something happen with the investigation?”

“No.”

“Did the fire department contact you?”

“No.”

“Then what happened?”

I couldn’t answer.

Because if I opened my mouth, Andre’s name would come out.

I knew it.

I knew I would say it.

So I shook my head.

“Nothing happened.”

She studied me.

Then she said quietly,

“Is this about the firefighter?”

My heart stopped.

I looked at her.

“No.”

She didn’t believe me.

“Jamal.”

“I said no.”

My voice came out sharper than I intended.

She stepped back.

“I’m sorry.”

I immediately felt guilty.

“Mom…”

She shook her head.

“It’s okay.”

I looked away.

“I’ve just had a difficult day.”

She nodded slowly.

“Go upstairs.”

“Mom—”

“Go rest.”

I nodded.

“Okay.”

I started toward the staircase.

Then I heard her behind me.

“Jamal?”

I stopped.

She didn’t say anything for several seconds.

Then—

“Whatever you’re going through, you don’t have to handle it alone.”

My throat tightened.

I looked back.

She was watching me.

For one terrifying second, I thought I could tell her.

Just her.

Maybe she would understand.

Maybe she wouldn’t hate me.

Maybe she would hug me.

Maybe she would tell me everything was going to be okay.

I opened my mouth.

“Mom, I…”

She waited.

I swallowed.

“I’m just tired.”

Her face fell slightly.

But she nodded.

“Go upstairs.”

I did.

The moment I entered my bedroom, I closed the door.

Then I locked it.

I leaned against it.

And slid down until I was sitting on the floor.

The room was silent.

Too silent.

I looked at my hands.

Andre had held these hands so many times.

Kissed them.

Pulled me closer.

Held them while we watched movies.

Held them when I was exhausted.

Held them when I was afraid.

He had always made me feel safe.

And now he needed space from me.

Because I had failed him.

I pulled out my phone.

Opened our messages.

Our conversation was still there.

Four years.

Thousands of messages.

Good mornings.

Good nights.

I miss you.

Come over.

Be careful.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I scrolled upward.

There were pictures.

Pictures of Andre smiling.

Pictures of me wearing his shirt.

Pictures from dinners.

Pictures from lazy mornings.

Pictures from our fourth anniversary.

And there was the bracelet.

The bracelet he had given me.

The A and J charms.

I touched the screen.

My vision blurred.

I whispered,

“I’m sorry.”

The room remained silent.

I pressed my phone against my chest.

“I love you.”

My voice broke.

“I love you so much.”

But Andre wasn’t there to hear it.

A knock came at my door.

I quickly wiped my face.

“Who?”

“It’s me.”

Malik.

I closed my eyes.

“Come in.”

The door opened.

Malik stepped inside.

He looked at me for several seconds.

Then closed the door behind him.

“You’ve been crying.”

I looked away.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“I’m just tired.”

He sat across from me.

Neither of us spoke.

Then he said,

“You went to see him.”

My heart stopped.

I looked at him.

“Who?”

Malik’s expression hardened.

“Don’t.”

I swallowed.

“You went to see the firefighter.”

I couldn’t answer.

Malik watched me carefully.

“Jamal.”

“I needed to talk to him.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to apologize.”

“For what?”

I looked away.

“For what happened.”

Malik leaned forward.

“Jamal, I told you. You don’t know that man.”

I felt something inside me crack.

“I know.”

“Then why are you this upset?”

“I feel guilty.”

“Because he was suspended?”

I nodded.

“Yes.”

Malik studied me.

“That’s not your responsibility.”

I said nothing.

“Jamal.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

He sighed.

“Father is handling the legal side. The family statement is already out. The video was released. Everything is being cleaned up.”

I looked at him.

“Cleaned up.”

“Yes.”

The word made me sick.

Because there was nothing to clean up.

There had been something real.

Something beautiful.

Something I loved.

And my family had turned it into something that needed to disappear.

Malik continued.

“You need to stay away from that man.”

My heart pounded.

“Okay.”

“I’m serious.”

“I understand.”

“Good.”

He stood.

Then he paused.

“Jamal.”

I looked at him.

“Whatever happened between you two…”

My breathing stopped.

“…you need to let it go.”

He left.

The door closed.

I stared at it.

And then I broke.

I covered my mouth with both hands to stop myself from making a sound.

Because Malik didn’t know.

My father didn’t know.

My mother didn’t know.

Nobody knew.

Nobody except Andre.

And now even he was gone.

I lay down on my bed.

I pulled the bracelet from my wrist.

The tiny charms caught the light.

A.

J.

I held the bracelet against my chest.

Andre had remembered our anniversary.

He had remembered me.

He had remembered everything.

And I had stood in front of the world and said I didn’t know him.

Tears rolled down my face.

“I’m sorry.”

I closed my eyes.

“I didn’t mean it.”

But the world didn’t care what I meant.

Andre didn’t deserve what I had done.

He didn’t deserve the humiliation.

The suspension.

The lies.

And maybe most of all…

He didn’t deserve four years of waiting for someone who was too afraid to choose him.

My phone vibrated.

I grabbed it immediately.

For one second, my heart jumped.

Maybe Andre.

Maybe he had changed his mind.

Maybe he wanted me back.

But it wasn’t him.

It was my father.

Come to my study. Now.

My heart sank.

I wiped my face.

Put the bracelet back on.

Then I stood.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

My eyes were red.

My face was swollen from crying.

I looked broken.

I took a deep breath.

Then another.

I couldn’t tell them.

Not tonight.

Not yet.

I couldn’t tell my family that I was gay.

I couldn’t tell them that the firefighter they had publicly denied was the man I had loved for four years.

I couldn’t tell them that every time they called Andre a stranger, they were talking about the man who knew every version of me.

The man who had loved me when nobody else knew who I really was.

I couldn’t tell them.

So I wiped my tears.

Straightened my shirt.

Put on the face they expected me to wear.

And walked toward my father’s study.

Leaving Andre behind was the hardest thing I had ever done.

But walking downstairs and pretending I didn’t love him…

That was going to be even harder.