I’d left his apartment that morning with shaking hands and a promise to myself: a shower, coffee, silence, and no thoughts of him. I managed one of those.
Now, hours later, the park buzzed with life — kids shrieking, dogs barking, a distant jazz band threading trumpet and sax through the air. Parents called out warnings, strollers squeaked across the path, and someone’s grill smoked in the distance. Real life. Normal life. Malik and Zarian shot down the sidewalk ahead of me, arguing about who was faster.
“On three!” Zarian yelled. “One, two—”
“You cheated,” Malik groaned, already chasing him.
Their laughter bounced between the trees, bright and wild. I wanted to soak in it, let it scrub away the memory of last night — of black silk and low commands and the way I’d heard myself say I t
