The money stayed on the counter like it might catch fire.


Maya didn’t touch it. Not yet.


Zaire was napping on the worn couch, clutching a plastic car in his hand like it was gold. His soft breath rose and fell. Peaceful. Unbothered. Maya envied that. She sat across from him at the kitchen table, spinning a lip gloss tube between her fingers and thinking about everything Devin had said.


She didn’t want his money. Didn’t want his pity. But she knew the price of pride. And diapers weren’t free.


She picked up the envelope. Three hundred in twenties, fanned and folded. Clean bills. No smell of risk. No blood on them.


At least not yet.


Her phone buzzed.


D-Roc: U home? I’m sliding by.


Her stomach dropped.


Maya: Don’t. I got Zaire down for a nap.


D-Roc: So? Open the door when I knock.


She didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. She already heard his engine outside.


The knock came five minutes later—hard, fast, and impatient. Not Devin’s knock. This one rattled her bones.


She opened it only because she knew he wouldn’t leave otherwise.


Darius stood on the porch in a black puffer and red hoodie, chain glinting against his chest. His eyes moved over her like inventory.


“You look tired,” he said, stepping past her without waiting for an invite.


Maya shut the door but didn’t say anything. She followed him into the living room, where he was already crouched in front of Zaire, brushing a hand over the boy’s curls.


“Look at him. Knocked out like his daddy used to be after practice.”


“Don’t wake him,” Maya said.


Darius stood, looking at her now. “You been duckin’ me.”


“I’ve been busy.”


He laughed, sharp and humorless. “With what? That little lip gloss hustle?”


She crossed her arms. “It’s a business. And it’s mine.”


He stepped close. Too close.


“I see you, May. Tryna act all independent. But don’t forget who kept your lights on when nobody else gave a damn.”


She didn’t back away. “And don’t forget who you put in the hospital when you got mad I wanted space.”


His jaw tightened. “That was one time.”


“And that’s all it took.”


They stared at each other for a long, tense beat.


Then his eyes flicked to the counter. To the envelope.


“What’s that?”


“None of your business.”


He stepped toward it, picked it up, opened it.


“This from Devin?”


She said nothing.


He scoffed. “You letting the law fund your life now?”


“I’m letting people who don’t hit me help.”


That hit him in the gut. She saw it. He didn’t yell. Didn’t throw. Just stood there, breathing heavy.


Then he slammed the envelope back down. “He ain’t clean either. Just ‘cause he got a badge don’t mean he different. Don’t trust nobody wearin’ blue, Maya. They all dirty somehow.”


He turned to leave, then looked over his shoulder. “You gonna need me soon. This world ain’t built for girls like you to win. Remember that.”


And with that, he was gone.


Maya stood in the silence, chest heaving, ears ringing, lip trembling—but still standing.


Because she had to.