Hope.
Real hope. Not for a man. Not for love but for herself. She leaned back in her chair, tired but wired, a slow smile creeping across her face.
“Damn,” Malik said, watching the results populate. “You really did that.”
“No,” she said softly. “Wedid that but this idea? This dream? This was mine first.”
And this time, she was going to finish it.
A LITTLE LATER…
Sabine dropped her keys into the bowl by the door and stepped out of her heels. Her body was buzzing from everything she and Malik had gotten done, but the second the front door closed behind her, the silence hit. No cartoon playing in the background. No tiny shoes kicked off beside hers. No soft call of “Mommy.”
It was Adair’s week. Ade was with him, and she was…alone. She moved through the house slowly, flipping on lights as she went, not because she needed them but because the shadows made the emptiness louder. Her steps echoed in a way they hadn’t before. Or maybe she’d just been too numb to notice.
The couch still had the throw blanket she’d wrapped herself in the night Adair left. She didn’t touch it. Instead, she went to the kitchen, poured herself a glass of wine, and leaned against the counter. Her laptop bag sat by the table, Aderra's code still alive on her flash drive. The work she’d done today had been good. Better than good. She hadbuilt something. She'd felt alive.
And now, she just felt…lonely.
Not in a regretful way. Not in the “I wish I’d never let him go” way.
Just lonely.
Lonely like she used to be when Ade would nap and the only sound in the apartment was the buzz of her own thoughts. Lonely like she was after Ariyah. After the silence took over. After no one showed up.
She sipped her wine and rested her head against the cabinet. There was a time when life had felt full. Chaotic, sometimes—baby toys and deadlines, dinner at nine, Adair coming in late smelling like ambition and apologies. There was a time she had loved that chaos. Hadbuilt herselfaround it.
Now, all that was left was her.
And that had to be enough.
She carried her glass upstairs, showered a little longer than usual, and changed into something softer. She passed Ade’s empty bed on the way to her room, the covers still made, stuffed animals perfectly in place. She always missed her baby boy.
In her own room, she sat at the edge of the bed, opened the drawer of her nightstand, and pulled out her old notebook. The original one. The place whereAderrahad first lived in scribbles and margin math. She flipped through the pages, touching each one like it held pieces of her she was finally remembering.
Then she closed the notebook gently and whispered to the quiet:
“I got you now.”
It wasn’t meant for Adair.
It wasn’t even meant for Ade.
It was for her.
After winding down and barely eating, Sabine lay in bed, legs tangled in the sheets with the phone next to her on an active call.
“I thought you were asleep by now,” Narri said on the other end, her voice low as if she too had done some drinking and thinking.
“I couldn’t,” Sabine murmured. “Too much on my mind.”
“You okay?”
“I think so.” She paused. “I built it today. Or at least, started to. The software…Aderra.”
Narri made a proud little gasp. “You finally named it?”
“Yeah.”