𝐓𝐮 𝐦'𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐬; 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐆𝐚𝐧𝐠

𝐉𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐮𝐱.

Two weeks had passed since that November evening, and we were back to reality. Our old neighborhood welcomed us with familiar sounds, the late-night gunshots reminding us of the ever-present danger.

Those two weeks in Paris had been a godsend. We relaxed, free from stress, enjoying each other's company without any interruptions.

Naila, however, had vanished from our lives. She occupied my thoughts constantly, yet she was nowhere to be found. Not in the nightclubs, study cafés, malls, or on the streets.

"I wish we could do this more often. It brings us a lot of peace," Sacky said, settling into one of the plastic chairs in front of our old apartment building.

"It's not for us, brother. The trip was already too expensive, and we barely scraped by," Mohamed replied, rolling a joint.

"Have you heard from your lawyer?" I asked Mohamed, leaning against the wall next to him.

"I asked for house arrest. I don't want to go back to jail," he answered.

A few months ago, we had been forced into a robbery to pay off a debt. We wanted to leave the illegal life behind, but circumstances had left us no choice.

"My lawyer's useless. He doesn't know how to defend me," I said, flicking my cigarette butt to the ground. "Good lawyers are too expensive."

I was exhausted—tired of the constant problems, the nightmares, the police, and the fear of jail. It was all too much to bear.

"Why are you laughing at your phone?" Mohamed asked Sacky, who was engrossed in his screen.

"Nothing," Sacky replied.

The giggling continued, and Mohamed snatched the phone from Sacky's hands. "No way, is that the chick from Paris?" Mohamed burst into laughter.

"What's your problem? She's rich and hot. Leave me alone," Sacky shot back, offended.

"You do realize she's not serious about you, right? Just like we weren't serious with them," I said.

"Ah, Zakaria, shut up. Everyone knows you were chasing that mysterious girl."

I scoffed. "She was different from those other girls she called friends."

Mohamed enjoyed our bickering. "Alright, boys, let's drop this. It's our last evening before we're in the studio all week. Let's enjoy it."

We talked late into the night, with more friends from the neighborhood joining us. The night wore on, the neighborhood sounds dimming with the passing hours. Our conversations flowed from topic to topic, punctuated by laughter and occasional heated debates. The earlier tension dissipated.

"You know," Mohamed said softly, "I sometimes wonder what it would be like to leave all this behind. Start fresh somewhere else."

"Yeah, man," I replied, gazing at the stars barely visible through the city's haze. "But running away won't solve anything. We have to face our demons here."

Sacky nodded, his usual bravado replaced by a rare moment of introspection. "We've been through a lot together, and we're still standing. That counts for something."

A bittersweet silence fell over us, filled with unspoken understanding about our complicated lives and uncertain paths.

"So, what's the plan for the studio?" one of the guys asked, breaking the silence. "We need new tracks, something that will put us on the map."

"I've been working on some beats," Sami said, excitement lighting up his eyes. "We just need the right lyrics."

"I've got some ideas," Mohamed added, a spark of hope in his eyes. "We just need to put in the work."