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The bedroom was a flurry of movement, an uncooperative three-year-old making what should have been a simple task feel impossible. Haven sat on the edge of the bed, holding up the small royal blue dress in one hand while the other rested on her forehead, already exhausted before the day had fully begun.
"Dylan, come here." Her voice was patient, but the weariness seeped through.
Dylan, all energy and mischief, giggled as she bolted across the room, her white-socked feet moving against the carpet. "But, Mommy, I'm not done playing!"
"You're not supposed to be playing," Haven sighed, reaching for her daughter as she dodged out of reach again. "You're supposed to be getting dressed."
Just as she was about to try again, Cairo's voice came from the doorway. "Noelle, listen!" He stepped inside, wearing a sharp black suit that made his presence feel even more commanding. "Quit giving Mommy a hard time."
Dylan froze at his tone, her lips pressing into a pout. "I just wanted to play."
"I know, princess, but Mommy needs your help right now." His voice softened as he approached, scooping Dylan up and bringing her back over to Haven. "Let her finish, okay?"
With a reluctant nod, Dylan let Haven pull the dress over her head. The smooth fabric slipped into place, its deep royal blue hue matching the one Haven wore. As she buttoned the back, Haven felt Dylan watching her through the mirror, her small hands running over her black tights.
"Mommy," Dylan said softly, tilting her head. "Are you sad?"
Haven stilled for a moment, fingers lingering on the last button. "What makes you ask that, baby?"
Dylan shrugged. "You're very quiet today, and earlier Daddy told me to give you a minute."
Haven swallowed, forcing a smile as she cupped her daughter's face. "I'm okay, baby."
Dylan studied her mother for a second longer, clearly unconvinced. Her gaze dropped, tracing the blue fabric of her dress with small fingers. "Is Uncle gonna be there today?"
The question hit her like a wave, tightening her throat. Before she could answer, her mind drifted, pulled back to the last moment she had with Nasir—the sterile scent of the hospital, the beeping monitors, the weight of his hand in hers...
---
Haven sat beside Nasir's hospital bed, her fingers laced with his, her thumb absentmindedly stroking the back of his hand. The beeping of the monitors filled the sterile air, a cruel reminder that time was slipping away. She swallowed the lump in her throat, her chest tight as she studied his face—so still, so unlike the brother who had always been full of life. His skin was warm beneath her touch, but she knew he was already gone in ways that mattered.
