I barely remember locking the door or grabbing my keys. My body moved before my mind caught up. Every mile between me and that airport felt like a countdown I couldn’t stop. I don’t know if I was angry or scared. Maybe both. All I knew was that he wasn’t going to disappear without looking me in the eye.
He stood at the gate like a man between worlds. No bodyguards. No entourage. Just Ahmir, dark suit, passport in hand, staring out at the runway like it was the only place left to run.
“Ahmir!”
He turned, slowly, like he’d known I’d come — like part of him had been waiting for it.
“Imani,” he said quietly. “You shouldn’t be here.”
I almost laughed. “You really need to stop telling me where I don’t belong.”
He set his bag down. “You read the note.”
“I did,” I said, tears already burnin
