Chapter Fifty-SevenI found Zantry and Mwara at home. Mwara stood by the stove, stirring a red, bubbly thing in the pot that emitted a fragrant, spicy aroma. Her multi-colored hair lay messy and limp, maybe by design. She was dressed in black leggings, flats, and a hot yellow tank covered in emojis. Zantry occupied one of the high chairs, legs splayed in front, posture tense, expression grim, still dressed in the black slacks and the blue shirt he'd left in the morning, hair loose about his shoulders. A day's worth of stubble darkened his cheeks. I had this almost compulsory need to throw my arms around his neck and never let go.
I looked away instead.
“That looks painful,” Zantry observed, eyes fixed on my chin.
“That's because it is.” I dropped my keys on the counter and pulled the hig
