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ZAYN ALONZO SANTIAGO | Lonzo POV |
"I'll be fine, babe, I'm serious," Monique insists, her voice soft but firm as she turns to look at me. Her eyes are gentle, but there's a hint of concern there, like she knows something's weighing on me.
I wrap my arms tighter around her waist, refusing to budge.
Nearly lose her
Mi nah lef go no weh
I pull her closer, pressing my face into the crook of her neck, inhaling her warm, familiar scent. It grounds me, soothes me in a way nothing else can.
She sighs, shifting slightly against me. "Lonzo, your mother wants to see you...mi nuh wah mek it seem like is me why yuh nuh go visit her," she whispers, her voice barely above a murmur.
I lift my head to look at her, taking in every feature, every line, every bit of her that I almost lost. Her face is soft and beautiful in the dim light, and as my gaze drops to our daughter, nestled against her chest as she feeds.
"What?" she asks, a small smile spreading across her face as she catches me staring. Her cheeks flush, and that sweet, shy look makes my heart ache.
I lean in, pressing soft, lingering kisses to her lips, one after another, feeling the warmth of her against me, not wanting to pull away.
She laughs softly, nudging me. "Zayn, yuh even a listen to me?"
Not really, I think, but I just smile, resting my head back on her shoulder and letting my hand drift up, cradling her breast opposite to where our daughter is feeding. It's a small, intimate moment, and I want to live in it for as long as I can.
After a long silence, I finally release her, feeling the absence of her warmth immediately. "Mi can go tomorrow, eno," I mutter, sounding more desperate than I'd intended, but I don't even care.
She raises an eyebrow, her eyes a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "You've been saying that for two days. Supposed she wah tell yuh something important?" She tilts her head, giving me that look she always does when she knows she's right.
I sigh, rubbing my hand over my face, feeling the tension building. "Why yuh nuh wah go?"
I don't answer right away, just stare down at my hands, struggling to put my thoughts into words.
I can feel her gaze on me, patient and understanding, but I don't want to look at her, don't want her to see the fear that's still knotted up inside me.
