𝗟𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟮 𝗠𝗬 𝗨𝗡𝗕𝗢𝗥𝗡 ━━━━━ 𝘁𝘂𝗽𝗮𝗰 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗸𝘂𝗿.

036.

' SAT , OCT 16TH 1995. '
sanai and tupac's residence ⸻
calabasas , california !

      THE SOFT MORNING GLOW FLOWS through the sheer curtains, casting a gentle glow in the cozy living room. I lay a soft blanket on the floor, creating a comfortable space for Zahir's tummy time. My heart swells with love and pride as I place him down on his tummy, his bright eyes wide with curiosity.

Tupac had been in Las Vegas for the past few days, leaving me alone at home as usual taking care of our son, but he was set to return home today. As tiring and lonely as things would get, I knew it was something I had to do out of love whilst he was out for work, as he'd promise things would get better, he'd come home and things are just a little difficult for him currently.

"Alright, little man, let's see what you can do," I say with a smile, settling down beside him. Zahir kicks his chubby legs excitedly, his arms pushing against the floor as he attempts to lift his head.

The room is filled with the sweet sounds of Zahir's coos and gurgles, a beautiful range of baby noises that never fail to make me smile. I watch in awe as he wiggles and squirms, determined to master this new skill.

Our living room had grown into one that resembled our small family more, photographs of us together in the last photoshoot we'd done line the walls. The scent of fresh flowers fills the air, mingling with the comforting aroma of coffee brewing in the kitchen.

As Zahir wriggles and explores, I can't help but notice at how much he's grown, even if it instils fear inside of me. His tiny hands reach out to grasp at the colorful toys I've placed in front of him, his eyes wide with wonder.

Just as we're both getting into the rhythm of our morning routine, the peaceful atmosphere is shattered by the ringing of the phone. I glance over at the device, reluctant to leave Zahir's side, but a sense of unease washes over me.

With a sigh, I reach for the phone, picking it up and holding it to my ear, wondering who could be calling at this hour. "Hello?" I answer, trying to keep my voice steady despite the growing wave of anxiety in my stomach.

"Sanai, it's Jewell," the voice on the other end says, urgency evident in her tone. "Jewell? What's wrong?" I ask, my heart pounding in my chest. My mind races with possibilities, fearing the worst. Has something happened to Tupac? Is he hurt? Why would she be calling me?

There's a moment of silence on the other end, and I can hear Jewell taking a deep breath before she speaks again. "Sanai, I don't know how to say this . . . It's about all of you," she says, her voice filled with regret. My heart lurches at her words, confusion and almost fear filling my senses completely. "What do you mean it's about all of you?" I ask, my voice trembling with worry.

"There's been a leak," Jewell explains, her voice lowered as if someone might be listening in. "About Zahir . . . about him being Tupac's son."

The words hit me like a ton of bricks, the truth of it sinking in slowly. Zahir being Tupac's son had always been a carefully secret, one that Tupac had made me believe needed to be hidden. But now, the truth was out there, exposed for the world to see.

And I knew eventually it would be.

A mix of emotions swirl inside me—fear, anger, betrayal, and a strange sense of relief. Relief that the secret was finally out, that I didn't have to carry the weight of it alone anymore. But fear of the consequences, of what this truth would mean for Zahir, for Tupac, and for me.