Malik showed up at The Yard three days later.


Not with flowers. Not with charm.


But with the same cold grin he wore when he made her doubt her own memory.


Tia was behind the bar helping clean up after a daytime open mic when she saw him walk in like he still owned the room.


“Thought this place was for poets,” he said, voice loud enough to draw stares.


Tia didn’t flinch.


“Funny,” she said. “I don’t remember ghosts getting mic time.”


Malik chuckled and leaned on the bar. “You cute with the courage now. That what that DJ been feeding you?”


Nova stepped into view from the back hallway. Black hoodie, jaw tight.


“Time to leave,” they said simply.


Malik’s eyes narrowed. “You letting your girl talk for you now?”


Tia stepped out from behind the bar, calm but unblinking.


“No. But I’m letting myself speak now. And I’m saying go.”


“You ungrateful as hell,” he snapped. “After everything I gave—”


“You gave me bruises,” she cut in. “You gave me shame. You gave me silence I had to claw out of.”


Nova moved beside her. “You got two choices. Walk out or get dragged.”


Malik looked between them.


Then smirked.


“You always was drama,” he muttered, turning to leave.


But not before whispering, just loud enough for her to hear:


“This ain’t over.”


That night, Nova and Tia sat on the roof of Maya’s apartment building, silence stretching between them like thread.


“You okay?” Nova finally asked.


“No,” Tia said. “But I’m awake. And that feels closer to okay than I’ve been in years.”


Nova didn’t speak. Just reached into their hoodie pocket and handed her a USB drive.


“What’s this?”


“My new mix. All inspired by you. Called it Roses in the Dark.”


Tia stared at the label. “You serious?”


Nova nodded. “You made the dark feel less like death and more like soil. Like something could grow there.”


Tia blinked fast.


Then reached over and rested her head on Nova’s shoulder.


“I don’t know what this is between us,” she whispered.


Nova smiled. “That’s the best part.”