The corridor echoed with a strange silence as Symere took her first steps outside the hospital. Though the sun warmed her pale face, it felt foreign. The light was brighter than she remembered, illuminating the paths she would tread moving forward. The past few weeks had been a blur, a haze of indistinct dreams and flickering shadows. With each step, memories rushed back, a laugh here, a moment there, the sound of a heartbeat she had nearly forgotten.

"Symere!"

She turned to see Artist, her husband, his tall frame silhouetted against the bright blue sky. A wave of relief replaced the tension in her chest as he approached, his seemingly effortless stride wrapping her in an embrace that felt like coming home.

"I'm proud of you mama." He whispered against her hair, his voice a sweet, familiar melody.

"What do you mean?" she murmured, the taste of confusion lingering on her tongue.

"Just... look at you." He drew back, studying her with his stormy eyes, always a little tempestuous yet filled with kindness. "You're here. You fought and you didn't give up. My fucking superwoman." He kissed her lips.

His smile widened, the warmth radiating off him soothing the remnants of fear that clung to her. She nodded, a small but decisive motion, and they turned toward the car. Outside, the world felt vibrant with promise.

As they drove, the streets unfolded nostalgically, like pages from a diary she had never thought to reread. Soft hues of green blinked into view through the frame of the open windows, and the fluttering whispers of the wind flowed through. She caught glimpses of laughter, parks, buildings, it all felt both familiar and distant.

"Are we going home?" Symere asked abruptly, breaking the momentary silence.

"Yeah baybeh." Artist replied, glancing sideways with a hint of apprehension.

She grasped the bar on the edge of the seat, suddenly unsure. How would it feel to return to a home that had been empty for so long? The thought formed a lump in her throat. Would everything just feel... normal again?

As they pulled into the driveway,
Artist noticed her hesitation.

"I know you don't want to be here and I don't either." His gaze darted around, feeling uncomfortable. "After all, we have a baby coming soon, and I was thinking... why not build our dream home instead? I could pull some strings and get it done before our lil one comes."

Symere blinked at him as the idea settled in, her mind piecing together the fragments of a life they hadn't yet begun. "Build?" she repeated slowly, her excitement brewing beneath layers of doubt.

"Yeah! We could take everything we've talked about and create a safe space for our family." Artist's enthusiasm was impossible to resist, his hands forming shapes in the air as they plotted their dream amid the haze of uncertainty. "A nursery decorated just how you want it, a in home office so you can work from home. We can even have an open kitchen with an island while the lil one runs around!"

The thought brought an image of laughter, warmth, and love flooding in like a forgotten song. "I can see it," she whispered, each word brushing against her heart. "A home that feels like us."

Artist beamed, gripping her hand tightly, ensuring she felt his unshakeable support. "Then it's settled. We'll go see some land. Something secluded, I don't want too many people knowing where we lay our heads."

"Okay." She smiled. "Can we go inside now? I'm hungry."

"Of course ya lil greedy ass hungry. What you want to eat?"

"Pizza." She grinned.

"Whateva you want."

***

Symere stood by the window, watching the raindrops race each other down the glass pane. Outside, the world was muted by a drizzling gray, but inside her chest, a storm raged. Artist was in their room sleeping but she was in no mood to sleep after finishing her food. The recent confrontation between her father and her husband had left a bitter taste in her mouth. Her heart ached with conflicting emotions, half of her wanting to shield her father from blame, while the other half seethed with indignation at the thought of anyone laying a hand on Artist.

"Babygirl." Artist's voice broke into her reverie. He had drawn closer, concern etched across his handsome face. His arms wrapped around her while he caressed her stomach, only deepened her affection for him. "Talk to me mama. I can see your mind is spiraling."

She turned to him, feeling the weight of his gaze. Artist's understanding nature often provided solace when her world felt jagged and divided. "I just don't understand how he could do something like that." She said, her voice trembling. "My dad is supposed to be my protector, not... not a monster."

Even after him forcing her into the lifestyle she was into, she still didn't see him as a bad person. That all changed once she got pregnant. She realized that she would never put her child through that whether they needed the money or not. She would suffer before ever forcing her child into the drug game.

Artist stepped forward, taking her hands in his. "He might not be a monster, Sy. He was just caught up in something he couldn't fully control."

"Caught up? He hit you!" Symere snapped, the edge of her voice sharp and unyielding.

"I know." He softened. "But let's not let this one incident cloud your perception of him entirely. We were also wrong too. He has been your father. He loves you."

"Not like he should, not if he can treat you like that! What's love got to do with fists?" Symere's palms grew clammy as she pulled her hands away from his, pacing across the room. The heavy guilt of defending her father wrestled against her disdain for the man who had hurt her husband.

Artist sighed. "It hurts me to see you so torn. How about we try to work through this together? I believe you need to talk with him. Just you two. A sit-down."

"A sit-down?" Symere echoed, her stomach flipping at the thought. "You want me to sit down with the man who just assaulted you?"

"It's not just about that one moment, Sy." he urged gently. "It's about the years of history and love that exist between you two. You may find some understanding if you confront him. Let's not throw everything away over one explosive moment, okay?"

Her mind raced. Artist was the most patient man she had ever known, but it pained her to consider forgiving her father. She had seen glimpses of anger in him before, always buried beneath layers of paternal protection and love. It was a complex tapestry of a man, flawed but still worthy of consideration. Yet, the image of Artist's face, smudged with pain and shock, haunted her.

"What if he doesn't see it this way?" She finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "What if talking only makes things worse?"

Artist stepped closer, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Then we deal with it together. I won't let you face him alone. But finding a resolution might help you heal, not just with him, but within yourself too."

Symere looked up, her heart fluttering. She both admired and feared the power her father held in her life. Like clay in Potter's hands, he had molded her into the person she was today, sometimes crafting beauty, at other times ignoring the fractures that were left raw and aching.

"Okay." She said, a determination settling in her heart. "I'll talk to him. But if he raises a hand at you again..."

"He won't!" Artist assured her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I'll be right there behind you."

Symere sighed as she pulled her phone out to call him over. Her thumb hovered over his contact, debating if she should do it or not. Artist took the phone and pressed the call button before handing it over to her.

"Hello?" His tired voice answered.

"Hi dad, is it the wrong time to call? I can call you back."

"No babygirl. How are you? I've heard you been released today."

"Um, I'm fine. I was wondering if we could talk?" She chewed on her nails nervously.

"Of course. Would you like to come over here or?"

"I can come over there."

She really didn't want her father in her home at the moment.

"That's fine. Is he going to be there?"

"Dad.." she sighed.

"He can sit in another room."

"Okay, I'll be there soon."

Symere hung up before turning to Artist. He smiled and held his arms open to embrace her. She tightly wrapped her arms around him while he rubbed her back.

"He asked if you were going to be there." She said after a few minutes of silence.

"I'll stay in the room for the sake of you but as soon as I hear something I don't like I'm coming out that room."

"I'm sure you will." She blushed.

"Glad you know, now gimmie kiss." He puckered his lips.

Symere grabbed his face and pecked his lips a few times.

"I love you." He coed.

"I love you more."

***

A wave of nerves washed over Symere as she prepared to face her father. She chose a simple pairing of jeans and a soft sweater, wanting to appear approachable yet sturdy. The drive to her childhood home felt surreal, old memories flooding back as she passed the familiar streets, each brick and corner whispering echoes of laughter and safety until that recent storm of hurt shattered the facade.

Her father opened the door as soon as she knocked. He looked older than the last time she saw him, stress etching lines into his forehead. Symere's heart softened at the sight of him, a man who had always been a giant in her life. She was struck by the fission of emotions within her, but the grounding presence of Artist beside her anchored her.

"Symere, come inside." Her father said, his voice thick with uncertainty. She stepped inside, her heart pounding. The house smelled of aged wood and soft spices, the ambiance almost welcoming.

Artist nodded his head at Chosen before making his way into the kitchen. He wanted to be near the living room while also giving them privacy.

"Dad, I want to talk to you." She said, her voice steadier than she expected. "About what happened with Artist."

He flinched at the mention of Artist's name, a grimace crossing his face. "I—"

"Just listen to me, please." she insisted. "I don't want you to defend yourself. I want you to understand how much it hurt me to see you act that way. And it hurt Artist too."

Silence stretched between them, palpable and heavy. The walls seemed to echo the unspoken words as her father turned this way and that, shame coloring his cheeks.

"Well," he finally spoke, breaking the tension, "I...I let my temper get away from me. I've been overwhelmed lately, it was wrong of me to take it out on him."

"Why would you do something like that to my husband?" She pressed, her words tumbling out in a rush. "He didn't deserve it!"

"Because I wanted to protect you!" He said, the frustration unraveling into thick sorrow. "I see him as a stranger, a possibility for pain. You went off and got married for what? Y'all are too young for this shit!"

The heaviness in her heart lightened but only slightly. "You can't protect me from every potential hurt, Dad. I'm not a child anymore. I need you to accept my choices, embrace my life. Artist is part of it, and he deserves respect from you. I'm in love with him and it's been established that we don't want anyone else! Maybe we are too young but you can't put a time frame on love. It was my idea to go off and get married and because he loves me, he did it despite him not wanting to disappoint you!"

Her father nodded, the acknowledgment shining through his eyes. "I'm sorry for crossing that line, Symere. I don't want to lose you because of my mistakes. I just can't accept this, Artist is a good kid but I don't think he deserves you."

The burden between them shifted, and something in Symere began to soften. It wasn't immediate forgiveness, nor was it a complete repair, but it was a beginning layers of hurt peeled back to reveal the love and hope that still thrived underneath.

"You can't tell neither one of us what we deserve. He's done things for me that I couldn't get from you. He cares about my goals and dreams, he's very attentive to me. He might be mean as hell but he's a sweetheart to me! Artist is everything I ever wanted in a man."

"I want you to be happy babygirl but I won't force myself to be happy about this. Maybe with time I'll learn to accept it but right now I won't. I wish you both the best and I'll always be here for my grandchild."

"What about your child?" Her eyes watered.

"I love you but I'm disappointed in you." He kissed her forehead before walking away.

Artist quickly exited the kitchen hearing his wife sobbing in the living room. Anger rose from his body as he felt her shaking in his arms.

"Symere, breath mama." He grabbed her face, coaching her through the panic attack.

"H-he doesn't want me." She sobbed.

"I want you, Sy. I love you and our lil one so fucking much. I swear on my life you gone be good mama."

Symere stared at him seeing the sincerity in his eyes.

"Please don't ever leave me."

"I won't."