It was raining when Darius pulled up to Maya’s building.


Not the hard, angry kind. The quiet drizzle that soaked the block in memory.


He hadn’t planned to stop. Hadn’t planned to knock.


But there he was—hood up, hands in his pockets, staring at the building like it might speak first.


He wasn’t sure what he wanted.


To see Zaire?


To hear Maya’s voice?


To feel something that didn’t make him look over his shoulder?


He buzzed her unit.


No answer.


He buzzed again.


Finally, her voice came through the speaker. Flat. Controlled.


“What do you want?”


“I just… wanted to check on Zaire. See if he good.”


“He is.”


Silence.


“Maya, I’m not tryna start nothin’. I just… I been thinking about what this life really costs. What it’s doing to me. What it’s doing to him.”


Another pause.


Then the door clicked.


Not all the way open—just the buzz.


He stepped inside.


She didn’t let him past the threshold of her apartment.


They stood in the doorway, him under the weak hallway light, her in leggings and a sweatshirt, arms folded across her chest.


“He’s sleepin’,” she said. “So whatever you gotta say, make it quick.”


Darius nodded. Looked down at his shoes.


“I turned it down.”


Maya blinked. “Turned what down?”


“The seat. The crown. Malik wanted me to take over. Run the block.”


Her expression didn’t change. “And you said no?”


“Yeah.”


She studied him hard, as if looking for the lie.


He didn’t flinch.


“Why?” she asked.


“Because Zaire deserves better,” he said. “And maybe… so do I.”


That hit something in her chest. A space she’d tried to lock up.


He looked up finally. “I ain’t asking for a second chance. I know I messed that up.”


She stayed quiet.


“I just wanted you to know… I’m trying. For real.”


Maya nodded once.


Not forgiveness.


Not a reunion.


But recognition.


And maybe… a little hope.


“I appreciate that,” she said softly. “For him.”


He nodded. “For him.”


Then she closed the door.


Gently.


And he let it close.


This time, without a fight.