35. DEREK'S DESTINY
35. DEREK'S DESTINY
Derek’s world seems perfect as he plans his future with Destiny. But just as he settles into this happiness, an unexpected call shatters his peace, reminding him that some can’t be ignored.
Are you new to this series, DEREK’S DESTINY? If so, tap below to start from the very beginning…
Previously on Derek’s Destiny: Hakeem confronts the shadows of his past and the weight of his present—only to be hit with a stark reminder that the future he dreams of isn’t guaranteed.
DEREK.
“Derek…”
Destiny’s voice quivered, barely a whisper, but it cut through the air like a spark on dry wood, her eyes finding mine over her shoulder, wide and pleading, and there it was—that flicker of need that twisted me up inside, made me forget everything but her.
I leaned in close, my voice a low growl.
“I told you to keep it down,” I said, my breath warm against her ear. “You want the construction crew out here catching a show?”
My hand came down on her backside, firm, the slap echoing off the walls, rolling out toward the waves. She gasped, jolting forward, biting her lip as that sly little smile crept out, her defiance just daring me.
“But it feels too good,” she whimpered, her voice dipping into that teasing, desperate tone she knew I couldn’t resist.
I leaned in closer, one more swift smack, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. “This ain’t a game, Princess. You earned this punishment, remember?”
She twisted her head to look at me, innocence and defiance mixing in her gaze, her breath coming in quick and shallow.
“I didn’t even do anything,” she murmured, barely holding it together.
Another smack. Her body tensed, heat pulsing between us, the air around us thick and charged. She was unraveling, but I wasn’t far behind, my control slipping, my pulse drumming loud in my chest.
“Nah, don’t even try it,” I muttered, shaking my head, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. “You were runnin’ your mouth earlier, throwing that attitude like you weren’t gonna end up right here, giving me what’s mine. Like you forgot who’s in charge. Acting like you got more important shit to do.”
She bit her lip, that slow, taunting smile daring me, sparking like a match caught in her eyes.
“Liar,” she breathed, the challenge in her voice soft but clear. She pushed back into me, testing me, her smirk daring me to prove her wrong.
“Oh, so that’s the game you wanna play?” My words slid out slow, every syllable hitting her like a low rumble, and I felt her shiver, her body giving me all the answers I needed.
Her breath hitched, but she didn’t back down. “You don’t have to make up excuses to spank me, Derek. Just do it.”
A slow smirk crept across my face. “Bad girl, huh? Out here on this balcony, showing me you ain’t scared of no one catchin’ us?” My fingers trailed along her hip, possessive, deliberate, before landing another firm smack. I watched as she tensed, a shiver running through her, that perfect mix of crumble and rise. And there it was—the spark in her eye, that hint of defiance daring me to keep going.
She let out a sound, something caught between a laugh and a moan, so lost and yet so damn sure of herself. It made me chuckle low, seeing how far I’d taken her, how far she’d let me.
We were locked in tighter than ever, like nothing could slip between us. Those two weeks apart, man, they’d turned me into a ghost, barely there, haunted by the thought I might’ve lost her for good. But nah, I wasn’t about to let it end like that. Destiny was mine—she’d always been mine—and if it took me showing up to lay everything bare, to fix what was cracked, then that’s exactly what needed to be done.
I messed up, and she needed her space, but I wasn’t about to let her get too used to life without me. I was struggling to breathe without her; no way was I making that same mistake I’d made back when we were just kids. This time, I’d be there, no matter the noise, no matter who had something to say about it.
So we got to work, grinding through these last few months with premarital counseling, and it was a lot, man—hard truths, raw feelings, shit we’d buried so deep even we didn’t know it was there. Cracks from back then, from those years we’d drifted apart, needed filling now if we were gonna stay steady. And both of us, we were down for it. Destiny, she didn’t just want a picture-perfect love; she wanted the real thing.
And her world? It was colliding with mine, and I could see her adjusting. I wasn’t the same small-town guy anymore; I was D-Truth, and with that came all the noise—paparazzi flashin’ their cameras when we stepped out, rumors swirling, interviewers getting nosy about our private lives. But she handled it like she’d been born to do it, steady by my side. She’d roll with me to the studio, sit with me on set, travel with me for shows, always right there. And when she needed a breather, she’d head back to Juniper solo, just for a moment, just long enough to recharge.
But every time she came back? It was like a reset, a reminder of what we were building. We were making something strong, unbreakable, something that wouldn’t fold under the weight of my world or her past. We were claiming this life together, one piece at a time.
Right now though? I had her right where I wanted—bent over the balcony rail of what was soon gonna be our bedroom, her body melting against me, all softness and surrender. She clutched the railing tight, knuckles white as she took every slow, deliberate move, every little punishment I invented just to keep her exactly like this, right on the edge. The ocean stretched out in front of us, waves crashing like a soundtrack to our rhythm.
We’d talked about letting this house go, about maybe not going all in so fast, but neither of us could shake it. So I went ahead, pulled the damn trigger, and threw down more than a half-mil over asking just to lock it in under someone else who jumped at it. This was the house she’d picked, the place where she saw our future, and I’d make damn sure she got it.
We’d been fixing it up, putting our mark on each room, making it feel like ours before we moved in after the wedding. And right now, with her body against mine, our future laid out in every touch, I knew this was exactly where we were supposed to be.
I slid my hands under her blouse, fingers finding her skin, feeling her heartbeat thundering against my palm. Her breath hitched as I leaned down, my lips grazing her ear.
“Better come for me, right here, right now,” I growled low, voice rough with need, “before someone steps out and gets a free show.”
She glanced back, mischief lighting her eyes, pushing back against me. “Make me,” she challenged, her voice defiant, sparking something fierce in me.
I smirked, heartbeat matching hers, my pulse roaring in my ears. “Word, Destiny?”
“You heard me,” she shot back, daring me, that electric defiance rolling off her in waves.
Damn, I loved her like this—bold, fire in her eyes, meeting me right there, no holding back. She was out of her shell, matching my energy, pushing me to go deeper, to take her exactly where only I could. I leaned in, tightening my grip on her hips, my voice a low murmur against her neck.
“Be a good girl, Des. Come for Daddy. We don’t need no audience.” I felt her resisting, that little rebellion simmering, holding out just to test me, to see if I’d crack.
But I wasn’t breaking. I stayed steady, each movement precise, relentless, making it impossible for her to hold back. And when she finally let go, trembling and gasping, I knew I’d claimed every inch of her all over again, right there under that wide-open sky.
Right on cue, her whole body went tense, tightening around me as her breath hitched, caught on the edge of a silent scream. Her surrender hit me like a shot of adrenaline, pulling me down into the same raw intensity that had her shuddering, lost in the moment. I groaned, a deep, guttural sound that slipped out despite my best efforts to keep it in check, burying it in the curve of her neck, feeling the warmth of her skin against mine.
We stayed like that, frozen in the aftermath, her body leaning into the rail, my hands steady on her, grounding her in a way words never could. Her breathing, still unsteady, filled the quiet between us, each rise and fall echoing out into the afternoon sun, mixing with the faint sound of the waves crashing in the distance. Everything around us felt like it faded away until it was just us.
Then she let out a soft, breathless laugh, almost like she couldn’t believe what just happened, her voice warm and familiar. “Jesus, Derek…”
I couldn’t help but smirk, pressing a lingering kiss to her shoulder, my lips dragging slow over her skin. “Told you, Princess… it’s that ‘80s cocaine’ pussy you got,” I teased, lifting my hand and sniffing my fingers that had been inside her with a grin that I knew would earn me one of her infamous eye rolls.
“Stupid,” she said, rolling her eyes on her cue, but I caught that laugh before it slipped, her hand playfully smacking my arm.
I took a moment to breathe, pulling myself together, tucking my length back in, and adjusting my pants while she straightened her skirt, her cheeks flushed and a slight smile still playing on her lips. She looked up at me, her eyes catching the light, with a combo of defiance and softness that was all her, and I knew I’d cracked open something raw and real, a side of her she let me see that felt like it was mine alone.
With a half-exasperated look, she crossed her arms. “I need my panties, Derek.”
I grinned, patting my back pocket where her lace was safely tucked away. “Don’t think you do, baby,” I said, letting my voice drop low.
“Derek.” She tried to look stern, lips pressed together, but I could see the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“I’ve got a long studio session lined up, Princess. Gonna need a little something to get me through it,” I murmured, reaching for her hand. “Now, let’s head back downstairs. I told that florist lady we’d be five minutes… and it’s been at least fifteen.” I pulled her in for a quick kiss, feeling the warmth between us still lingering in the air, the kind that made me feel like I could take on anything.
She sucked her teeth, rolling her eyes in that way that always got to me. "You just couldn’t wait, could you? Had to interrupt my meeting like that," she muttered, but I caught that hint of a smile trying to sneak its way through, her lips betraying her.
I raised an eyebrow, my gaze drifting down to that skirt hugging her curves just right. “Did you see your ass in that skirt?” I leaned in, smirking. “C’mon now, Princess. You knew exactly what you were doing.”
She huffed, trying to smooth down her blouse, her fingers fumbling. “I need to clean up,” she murmured, almost to herself, but I could see her hands shaking, still feeling the heat, still fighting to pull it all together.
“Don’t.” My voice dropped to that low, rough tone that I knew made her pause. “I need you exactly like this, Princess. Let it marinate. That way, when I come back for dessert later, it’ll be just right.”
She rolled her eyes, laughing softly, shaking her head. “Every day, Derek, you say something that makes me think you might need a whole different kind of evaluation. I’m bringing this up with Dr. Chin, don’t think I won’t.”
“Ain’t nothing wrong with me except a bad case of Destiny-itis. Lucky for you, it’s not contagious.” I let my gaze roam over her, slow, like I was committing every inch of her to memory.
My hand slid under her skirt, up her thigh, and I felt her shiver as I closed the distance between us, my lips barely brushing her ear.
“Derek, stop,” she whispered, but her giggle slipped out, a little breathless, with that glint in her eye daring me to keep going. “We’re being rude; they’re waiting for us downstairs.”
I took a steadying breath, pulling back just enough to catch her eyes, but I wasn’t ready to let her go just yet. “I’m just… happy, Des. You’re here, we’re planning this life together, right here in our home. Everything I ever dreamed of.” My voice softened, letting the words settle between us. “You make it all real.”
Her face softened, her eyes meeting mine with a warmth that went deep, pulling me in like a magnet I couldn’t resist. I leaned in, my lips finding hers, slow and deep, letting her melt against me. The world faded, everything beyond that kiss slipping away—just me and her, locked together in that quiet, like nothing else mattered.
When she finally pulled back, she looked at me with this softness, this quiet gratitude that didn’t need words, but damn if it didn’t carry a weight all its own.
“Thank you,” she murmured, voice so soft it almost disappeared into the breeze between us.
I raised an eyebrow, leaning in a little. “For what?”
She took a steadying breath, like she was gathering the courage to put it all out there. “For these last few months… I see it, Derek. Everything you’re putting in—for us.”
I nodded, swallowing down the tightness in my throat. The words hit deeper than she probably knew.
“Thank you for letting me. For letting me fix things.” I paused, watching her, the way her gaze softened, like she was holding back too. “And you—you’re doing the work, too. Not looking for something to be wrong every second… trusting me more.”
She glanced past me, her gaze drifting over the view from our balcony. “Something about being out of Juniper… it feels like a fresh start,” she said, almost to herself. “Being somewhere that doesn’t have all our old memories.” Her voice carried that hope, that eagerness I knew was hard for her to hold onto sometimes.
I studied her face, every line, every shift in expression. “So, you’re really okay with this? Moving out here?”
Her eyes found mine again, soft, steady, with that quiet glow that had me every time. “Yeah, I’m excited. Though…” She trailed off, a smirk tugging at her lips, a little playful glint in her eye. “I can’t wait to see that surprise room you keep under lock and key.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “In due time, Princess. Trust me—you’re gonna love it.”
With a grin that matched hers, I led her back inside, fingers laced, her cheeks still carrying the heat of what we’d just done, a slight blush that only made her look more beautiful. She tried to smooth her hair and pull herself together, but there was no hiding that freshly fucked look on her face. When we stepped back into the room where the florist was waiting, Destiny slipped into her chair with a subtle shift in posture, still trying to compose herself but betraying just a little of what we’d been up to.
I leaned in, hand resting lightly on her shoulder as I helped her settle back in her chair.
“Apologies,” I said, my tone calm but with a hint of mischief, enough to suggest just what had kept us. “Had to steal my future wife for a moment.”
The florist looked between us, her lips curving in a knowing smile, barely hiding the amusement in her eyes.
“No problem at all,” she replied, professional but clearly catching on.
Destiny’s cheeks deepened to a darker shade, and she busied herself with her notebook, clearing her throat, fumbling a little but trying to keep her focus on the meeting. The florist flipped through her samples, carrying on like normal but with a glint in her eye, as though she were in on our little secret.
"Alright," she said, pointing to a page with an arrangement of lilies and wildflowers, threaded with these delicate gold accents. “Destiny mentioned wanting something classic but with a touch of flair—something that speaks to your story.”
I nodded, but my attention was only halfway on her words. My focus was still on Destiny next to me, the warmth rolling off her, her leg pressed against mine under the table. I couldn’t help glancing at her, making sure she knew I was with her, that I’d been listening to everything she wanted for this wedding.
“Yeah,” I murmured, feeling her energy fill the room. “Something timeless but with a twist, right?”
She looked up, finally meeting my eyes, and hit me with that shy, amused smile, her cheeks still carrying a bit of that flushed glow.
“Right,” she said, her voice soft and breathless, a reminder of how close we were, how far we’d come. “Elegant, but… unexpected.”
The florist watched us with that knowing smile, flipping another page.
“I think I have just the thing,” she said, showing us the flowers again. “These symbolize strength and unity but with a modern edge. Traditional, but a bit daring.”
I reached under the table, squeezing Destiny’s hand, grounding us both.
“Perfect,” I whispered.
She gave me a quick glare, playful but with that little glint in her eyes that had me feeling on top of the world.
We’d been doing this wedding planning thing for a minute, fitting it in while still piecing ourselves back together. Our ceremony was gonna be at the house—our house. The place where I’d proposed, the place that symbolized all our fresh starts. I should’ve been bored with all the talk about centerpieces and roses, but nah… I was just… at peace.
Career? Locked down. Money? Coming in faster than the people online could count it. And now, I was about to marry the only woman who had ever had me like this. Me and Ant were still doing our thing, I was still his annoying little brother no matter who I was to the rest of the world, and the parents were good. It all felt like the world had finally clicked into place, and I wasn’t about to take any of it for granted.
Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Hakeem. His name flashing on the screen like a reminder. The hell did he want? I hit decline, telling myself we didn’t have anything to discuss that couldn’t wait. Destiny kept pushing me to make peace with him, but I figured I’d get to it when I got to it—and that wasn’t now.
Keem and Eden had RSVP’d to the wedding, so I figured I'd see him there. We’d talk when we talked. Wasn’t like anything was urgent. Bro just… dipped on me. Part of me got it, though—when it came to Destiny, I didn’t care who had an opinion. I’d go through anyone for her, period. But Keem? He straight up cut me off out the blue. I didn’t see that coming, and maybe that’s on me, too caught up with all that mess with Arnold and Johnathon, trying to keep Destiny safe. Still, it hit different. Felt like he’d just turned his back on me overnight.
Like, he comes to my hometown, meets Eden, starts goin' to church, and now he’s on some “spiritual journey” tip? Now he can’t rock with me no more? Fuck that.
Right then, my screen lit up again. Eden’s name this time. Probably calling for him since I’d ignored his. I stared at it, then let it go to voicemail. Whatever he had to say could wait.
Destiny’s gaze flicked over to me, her eyes narrowing like she was about to say something, but she kept quiet, staying focused on the meeting. Then her own phone started ringing. She frowned, looking down, and declined the call. But it rang again, immediately, like it was desperate to be answered.
A knot twisted in my gut. “Take it,” I muttered, a warning creeping into my tone.
“But, we’re—”
“Destiny,” I repeated, firmer this time. “Take it.”
With a sigh, she nodded apologetically to the florist and stepped outside, pressing the phone to her ear. I could hear her voice in bits, laced with frustration, saying, “Eden, slow down... What? When?” Her tone shifted, going from annoyed to something sharper, rawer. She turned toward me, her face pale, eyes wide with fear.
“What’s going on?” I asked, feeling a chill crawl down my spine, gripping me in a way that told me everything was about to shift as I walked towards her.
Her voice trembled, breaking as she struggled to speak. “Hakeem,” she choked out, tears streaming down her face, her hands shaking like they were holding onto something they couldn’t bear to lose.
In that instant, the room faded. The florist, the flowers, the whole damn meeting—all of it blurred, swallowed by the weight of her words.
Cardiac arrest.
The words slammed into me like a sledgehammer to the chest, reverberating through my mind as I hustled to get Destiny and myself on a jet to Juniper, everything a blur of urgency. If running there would've been faster, I'd have hit the ground sprinting. But that flight—it stretched out, every second feeling like it was taunting me. The clock ticking felt like a heartbeat I couldn't control, like something slipping further out of reach with every passing mile.
By the time we landed, my nerves were raw, buzzing with a quiet, desperate fury. Destiny squeezed my hand, grounding me, but it felt distant, like I was already halfway down the hospital corridor in my mind. All I could focus on was getting to Hakeem.
We pushed through those hospital doors, and I took in the waiting room scene—silent devastation laid bare. Eden’s mom sat slumped in a chair, a crumpled tissue clutched in her trembling hands, her shoulders shaking with each shallow breath. Eden’s dad, usually a solid rock of a man, stared hard at the floor, like he thought he’d find answers in the cold tiles beneath his feet. And Eden… she was hugging herself, her body folded inward like she was trying to keep from falling apart. When Destiny moved to her, wrapping her arms around her, I saw Eden’s walls start to crumble, her sobs breaking free as she buried her face in Destiny’s shoulder.
I clenched my fists, willing myself to stay steady, even as everything inside me felt like it was unraveling. Each breath I took felt like shards of glass in my chest, slicing deeper with every inhale.
“What happened?” Destiny’s voice cut through the stillness, barely a whisper, but it was enough.
Eden’s father cleared his throat, his voice rough and uneven, heavy with the weight of the day.
“We went fishing today,” he began, his gaze distant, like he was replaying it all in his mind, wishing he could rewrite it. “Just a normal day. Everything seemed fine. We got back to the house, he was talking to Eden, and then… just like that…” His voice broke, and he dropped his head, unable to meet anyone’s eyes. The silence swallowed his words, completing the sentence he couldn’t bear to finish.
Every unspoken word hung in the air, filling the room with an ache that settled deep in my bones. It felt like the world had shifted, like something essential was slipping away and I was helpless to catch it.
Eden was barely holding on, her body slumped, her face a portrait of pure grief. Destiny and I wrapped our arms around her, trying to lend her what little strength we had left. Every sob that racked through her shook me too, making my chest ache in ways I hadn’t felt since… well, since a long damn time.
“Shit, Eden,” I whispered, voice rough and thick, barely able to get the words out. “I’m sorry. Whatever this is, I got you. I got Keem.” My throat felt like sandpaper as I said it, that promise tangled up in all the regrets—the missed calls, the texts that went unanswered, the nights I’d let slip by thinking there’d be more time. He needed me, and my pride kept me on the other side of the line. Keem needed me, and I’d let him down.
I couldn’t take it. I gave Destiny a look, a silent plea for just a minute, and stepped away, needing air, needing to not break down in front of Eden. I walked down the hallway, a ghost of myself, feeling the walls close in with every step.
The hallway was empty, a dim and quiet space where I could finally let the weight hit me. I leaned back against the cold wall, tilting my head back as if I could somehow hold the tears in that way, but it was too late. My vision blurred, and the tears fell, hot and bitter. The realization sank in, tearing through me—Keem had been there for me, every step of the way, and I’d let him drift into silence. I’d let my own anger and pride keep us apart. And now? Now, I didn’t know if I’d ever get the chance to make things right.
“Hold on, Keem,” I whispered, my voice barely a sound, just a prayer to the empty corridor. “Hold on, brother.”
Then I heard him. Ant’s voice, rough around the edges and unmistakable. “The fuck you doing here?”
I glanced up, and there he was, standing a few feet away, brows drawn tight, his gaze tracing over me like he was trying to figure out a puzzle he didn’t want to solve. His jaw, usually set with that steely calm, loosened when he saw the tear tracks on my face, the kind I hadn’t bothered to wipe away. The anger in his eyes softened, replaced by something raw and wary.
“What you doin' here?” I forced out, my voice rough, trying to layer on a little normal like everything was fine. “Ain't Little Derek waitin' on you at home?” I threw in a chuckle, but it landed flat.
Ant shifted, folding his arms, his expression steady but holding something back. “We had to take care of somethin' else.” His voice was quiet, careful, like he was holding back something. “But you, man… Thought you was out in Cali. So what’s wrong?”
His eyes locked on mine, unflinching, like he was ready for the worst but still hoping I’d surprise him. The weight of his gaze pressed down, making it hard to hold steady, making the truth feel like something heavy and jagged in my chest.
“Keem…” I choked out, my voice hoarse. “They’re saying… cardiac arrest.”
For a second, he just stared, shock breaking through his usually tough exterior, a crack in that armor.
“What the fuck?” he muttered, voice so low it barely reached me, like he was trying to make sense of it.
“I just got here,” I admitted, my voice barely holding together.
Without a word, Ant closed the gap, his hand landing firm on my shoulder, his grip steady, grounding.
“Alright, man. Okay.” He pulled me in, I let myself lean into the weight of it.
Words I hadn’t planned spilled out, the confession raw, like I was tearing open a wound.
“I haven’t talked to him since that night. What if…” I couldn’t even finish the thought. It clawed up, filling my chest, choking every breath.
Ant’s grip tightened, his voice low but steady, every word laced with determination.
“Nah, don’t even think like that. He’s gonna be alright. You hear me? He’s gon’ be alright.” His hand on my shoulder held me up, kept me from slipping into the darkness. He was willing me to believe it, even as doubt gnawed at the edges of my mind.
But standing there, with Ant holding me steady, the weight felt like it was pressing down, tightening its grip, turning every breath into a fight. My mind spun through all the moments I’d let pass, the calls I’d ignored, every message I’d read and left unanswered. Every time I thought I’d reach out tomorrow, that there’d be time. But now? Now, time felt like sand slipping through my fingers, like life was mocking me with every heartbeat I couldn’t feel steady.
And the worst part? I was here, staring down the edge, knowing I might never get the chance to make it right.
My stomach twisted like a vice, a raw ache settling deep, gnawing at me. The last message from Keem replayed in my mind—a simple, “Bro, let’s talk,” like it was nothing, like we had all the time in the world. And I’d brushed him off, too wrapped up in my own life.. The memory hit like a gut punch, and I felt like I was free-falling, no ground beneath me, just a hollow sense of regret.
I’d assumed I could fix things later. I’d thought he’d always be there, a constant. But now, standing here in this cold, sterile hallway, everything felt fragile, like one wrong breath and it’d shatter.
A part of me wanted to scream, to curse at the universe, to bargain for one more chance. But all I could do was stare down that long hallway, hoping that somewhere in that room, Keem was holding on, fighting just as hard as I was clinging to hope.
I closed my eyes, trying to block out the fear clawing up my throat. Tried to hold on to anything real, anything that could convince me he’d make it. But all I felt was emptiness, the weight of regret, and a fear that gripped me harder than I’d ever known.
Then the doctor came out, his face blank, and without thinking, I moved forward, my steps heavy, every muscle in my body tense.
“We managed to stabilize him, but his condition is still critical,” he said, voice low, eyes flicking between us. “The cardiac arrest caused complications. He’ll need intensive care for his recovery.”
Stabilized. Critical. I grabbed onto those words, feeling a flicker of relief, but it was faint, drowning in the weight of everything else.
Eden’s knees buckled, and her mom caught her just in time. Eden’s face crumpled, and she dissolved into her mother’s shoulder. Her father held them both, his expression pale, eyes vacant, struggling to process the weight of the doctor’s words.
Beside me, Destiny’s hand gripped mine so tight it hurt, her breaths shallow, like each one took more effort than the last. She glanced up at me, her eyes wide and searching, silently asking me to be steady, to be the rock she could hold onto. I wanted to be that for her, to keep her grounded, but my own chest was so tight, every breath felt like it was scraping against glass.
Eden’s soft, broken sobs shattered the silence, her hands clinging to her mother like she was drowning, her face hidden against her shoulder. Her father’s hand rubbed her back in slow, steady circles, his face etched with a silent pain, the look of a man who’d always been strong now left helpless.
Destiny let go of my hand, stepping forward to wrap her arms around Eden, whispering to her, comforting her in ways I couldn’t. Eden buried herself into Destiny, clutching her like a lifeline. And as I watched them, I felt an ache so deep it shook me. It was more than sorrow; it was fury, a raw, helpless rage with nowhere to go. Keem was supposed to be untouchable, the one who always had my back. Now he was fighting for his life, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do.
I stepped forward, my voice rough, strained. “Whatever it takes, you understand me?” I fixed my eyes on the doctor, my stare cold, each word like a command. “He gets the best care, everything he needs. I’ll fly in specialists if you have to, whatever it costs. He doesn’t get anything less than the best.”
The doctor nodded, used to demands like this, but his calm demeanor didn’t make it any easier to swallow.
“We’re doing everything we can,” he assured us, voice quiet but steady.
I nodded, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing felt like enough.
I took a few steps back, feeling the walls close in around me. I needed air, but more than that, I needed a moment to fall apart where no one could see. I leaned against the wall, shoulders shaking, my breath coming in sharp, shallow bursts as I tried to hold back the flood threatening to consume me. My vision blurred, and I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I was unraveling, the weight of regret, anger, fear all crashing down like a tidal wave.
Ant, who’d been standing by the doorway, stepped forward, hand solid on my shoulder. He didn’t say a word, just kept his hand there, steady, grounding, giving me the silent support only a brother could.
Destiny turned to look at me, worry etched in her eyes. She didn’t speak, just came back to my side, slipping her hand into mine, grounding me with her touch. Her silent strength was everything I needed, keeping me from falling completely apart. She knew. She understood how close I was to breaking, but she held on, refusing to let me fall alone.
The doctor took a breath, his voice steady as he began explaining, his words measured but still laced with a compassion that cut deeper. “When he arrived, his heart had stopped,” he said, and every word felt like a weight. “We had to start CPR immediately. There were compressions, defibrillation—the team worked tirelessly to bring him back. It was touch-and-go, but he’s stable now.”
Eden gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, her face a mask of devastation. Her father’s arm tightened around her, holding her up as her legs threatened to give way. The doctor looked directly at her, his tone gentle. “He’s in critical condition, but he’s a fighter. Right now, we’re taking it step-by-step.”
Eden’s voice broke as she begged, “Can I see him? Please, I need to see him.”
The doctor nodded, understanding. “Once he’s settled in recovery, we’ll take you in, one at a time. It’s best to keep it calm for him, minimize stress.”
I clenched my fists, feeling my own chest ache with the need to do something—anything—to make this right.
The doctor continued, his voice low and calm. “We’re monitoring him closely. His heart’s been through a lot, so we’ll be keeping him on oxygen support and watching for any changes. The next 24 hours will be crucial.”
Destiny looked at me, her eyes filled with worry, and I nodded, jaw tight, grounding myself in her gaze. I was holding it together by a thread, and she knew it. But for Keem, for Eden, for everyone, I’d find a way to keep it together.
As the doctor stepped away to prepare Keem’s room, I took a breath, my voice barely above a whisper as I made a silent promise. “Whatever he needs, we’re doing it. I got him. We all got him.”
Hours crawled by, every second stretching longer than the last. When they finally called my name to go see him after Eden had spent some time, it was like a fist to the gut. I rose without a word to Destiny, just nodded and moved forward, feeling each step pound in my chest, like my own heart was trying to break free.
The low hum of machines hit me first as I stepped into the room, then the sight of him—Hakeem, my brother, my right hand—laid out in that hospital bed, surrounded by wires and tubes, blinking monitors tracking every fragile breath. He looked weaker, like the weight of all the years, all the fights, had finally caught up to him and sat heavy on his chest.
I gripped the edge of the bed, fighting to keep myself steady, grounding myself in the cold metal against my palm. His face was pale, his lips dry and cracked, his eyes closed in that unsettling way that wasn’t sleep but something deeper, something I couldn’t reach. He was fighting in there, and here I was, helpless, just watching, praying.
“Keem…” I managed, my voice coming out as a cracked whisper, thick with every unsaid word that I’d been too proud to say before. He’d been there for every high, every low, every mistake I’d ever made, and now… now he was lying here.
I sank into the chair beside him, reaching out to hold his hand—cold, limp, unfamiliar. I’d seen him take hits, seen him bleed, but this… this was different. This was real. This wasn’t something he could just brush off, laugh away, and it scared me.
The weight of everything crashed down, and before I knew it, the tears came. Slow, hesitant, like they’d been building up, spilling out in choked sobs that wracked my chest. I hadn’t cried like this in a long time, hadn’t let myself feel anything this raw. But right here, right now, I couldn’t stop it.
“God…” I choked, my voice barely holding on. “Please… don’t take him. Not him. I know I don’t deserve to be asking for anything, but… please, let my Bro be good.”
The beeps of the machines were the only response, each one steady, each one a reminder that he was still here, still fighting. I gripped his hand tighter, like that could somehow anchor him, keep him here. My breath came out in broken gasps, the weight of guilt, regret, everything hitting me like a freight train.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, the words spilling out, heavy with all the moments I’d missed, all the calls I hadn’t taken. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve picked up.” My fingers tightened around his, as if that small grip could make up for every time I’d let him down.
I looked at him, my vision blurred, and leaned close, whispering, “You’re my brother, Keem. I need you. Don’t leave me hanging now, aight?”
The world shrank down to the two of us, the hum of machines, the steady beeps, and my own quiet sobs breaking the silence. I sat there, clinging to his hand, hoping, praying he could feel it, that he knew how much he meant to me, how sorry I was.
The minutes bled together, time stretching thin and fragile, leaving me alone with the weight of memories and regrets I couldn’t outrun. I sat there, gripping the side of his bed like it could hold me steady, like it could somehow make up for all the words left unsaid between us. I thought about the years we’d had each other’s backs, the late nights, the wild plans, the brotherhood that had always felt unbreakable. And now, here he was, lying still, fighting a battle I couldn’t join him in.
So I prayed—prayed that he’d have more time, that he’d get the chance to walk into the life he’d chosen, to become the man he’d left my world to find. Because if he made it back, I’d make damn sure he knew, beyond any doubt, that no matter how far he ran or who he became, he’d always have a brother right here, waiting for him.
to be continued…
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