The sound of the rain drumming on the zinc roof filled the house as Nia sat at the small dining table, sketching in a worn notebook. Zion was sprawled on the floor, humming a tune while coloring in a book Miss Ivy had given him. Every now and then, he would hold up his work, waiting for her praise.
"Dat look good, baby," she said, her voice soft as she admired his messy but colorful rendition of a fish.
"Yuh tink mi can sell mi art like yuh?" he asked, his big brown eyes shining with hope.
Nia chuckled, ruffling his hair. "Mi nuh sell art, Zion. But maybe one day yuh will."
The truth stung, though she'd never let Zion feel it. Her sketches were nothing more than a private escape. Dreams of pursuing art had faded when she found out she was pregnant. She'd traded canvas and brushes for diapers and night shifts, and she'd never looked back.
Just as she began to lose herself in a sketch of the ocean, a knock came at the door. Nia frowned, setting down her pencil.
"Who dat?" she called out.
"It's me," a familiar male voice answered.
Her heart froze.
Zion sat up, looking curiously at the door. "Mummy, who dat?"
"Stay right deh, Zion," she said firmly, standing up and wiping her hands on her skirt.
She opened the door slowly, her breath catching as the face of a man she thought she'd never see again appeared.
Marcus.
"Evening, Nia," he said, his voice low and hesitant. His once-boyish face was sharper now, framed by a neatly trimmed beard. He looked different, but his presence still carried the same weight that had once made her feel small.
"What yuh doin' here, Marcus?" she asked, her voice cold.
"I come fi talk," he said, glancing past her into the house. His eyes softened when he saw Zion, who was now peeking around her legs. "Mi hear 'bout Zion. Mi waan meet mi son."
Nia's grip on the door tightened. "After all dis time? Yuh waan meet him now?"
Marcus stepped back, running a hand over his head. "Mi know mi mess up, Nia. But mi change. Mi want fi make things right."
Nia shook her head, her anger simmering just below the surface. "Yuh think yuh can jus' show up an' everything fix? Zion nuh know yuh. Him nuh need yuh."
"Every pickney need dem father," Marcus said, his tone pleading.
Zion tugged at her hand. "Mummy, who him be?"
She looked down at her son, her heart breaking a little at the confusion on his face. She crouched to his level, shielding him from Marcus's view.
"Zion, go back inna di house an' finish yuh drawing fi Mummy, alright?"
"But-"
"Zion," she said firmly, and he reluctantly obeyed, retreating to his spot on the floor.
Nia straightened, her eyes blazing as she faced Marcus again. "Yuh can't jus' walk in an' disrupt wi life. Mi work hard fi mek sure Zion have everything him need. Yuh nuh deserve fi call yuhself him father."
Marcus sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Mi know mi nuh deserve it, Nia. But mi ready fi prove miself. Fi Zion."
She scoffed. "Prove yuhself? Yuh tink dat can erase di years yuh leave mi fi manage by miself? Yuh nuh know di half a wah mi go through fi raise him."
"Mi sorry, Nia," he said quietly.
She stared at him, her emotions warring between the anger she carried for years and the part of her that had once loved him. Finally, she spoke.
"Mi nah stop yuh if yuh want fi see Zion. But don't tink fi one second dat mi trust yuh. Yuh step outta line, an' yuh nah come back here again."
Marcus nodded, swallowing hard. "Fair enough."
Nia stepped aside, letting him into the small house. Zion looked up, his eyes widening as Marcus approached.
"Zion," Nia said, her voice steady, "this is Marcus. Him seh him want fi get to know yuh."
"Hi," Zion said cautiously, holding his crayon tightly.
"Hey, Zion," Marcus said, kneeling to his level. "Mi... mi yuh daddy."
Zion blinked, his expression unreadable. "Mi nuh know yuh."
Marcus flinched, but he forced a smile. "Mi know, an' dat's mi fault. But mi hope mi can change dat."
Nia watched the interaction with her arms crossed, her heart heavy. As Zion hesitantly showed Marcus his drawing, she wondered if letting him in was the right choice-or if she'd just opened the door to more heartbreak.
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