Through it All

Chapter 26

 The drive back to Fatima's place was quiet in the best way.

The city lights blurred past the windows, Atlanta humming softly around them as Zac's hand rested comfortably on the steering wheel, his other occasionally reaching over to squeeze hers. The radio played low—something smooth, something familiar—but neither of them paid it much attention.

Fatima leaned her head against the window for a moment, watching the world move. Her body was tired, but her heart felt... steady. Safe. That feeling surprised her more than anything.

Zac glanced over at her.
"You good?" he asked gently.

She turned her head, smiling. "Yeah. Just... content."

He smiled back, slower this time. Like he was memorizing her face.

When they pulled up to her apartment, the building was quiet, the evening settling into that peaceful in-between before night fully took over. Zac parked, cut the engine, and for a moment neither of them moved.

"Come on," he said softly. "Let's get you inside."

Inside her apartment, the lights were low, the space neat but lived-in. Books stacked on the coffee table. A throw blanket folded over the couch. A small reminder of the life she kept carefully balanced between school, appointments, and survival.

Zac kicked off his shoes easily, rolling up his sleeves like he'd been there a hundred times already.

"Alright," he said, clapping his hands once. "What are we studying?"

Fatima laughed. "You don't waste time, do you?"

"Nope," he replied, pulling a chair out for her. "Doctor's orders. Rest your body, but don't let your mind fall behind."

They settled at the table, textbooks open, notes spread between them. Zac explained things patiently, breaking down concepts without ever making her feel small or behind. Every now and then, he'd catch her staring.

"What?" he asked, amused.

"You're really good at this," she said quietly. "At being... present."

Something shifted in his expression—softer, more serious.

"I choose to be," he said simply.

As the night stretched on, Fatima's energy faded. Her shoulders slumped, eyes growing heavy despite her efforts to stay focused.

Zac noticed immediately.

"Alright," he said, closing her book. "That's enough."

"But—"

"Nope." He stood, holding his hand out. "You need rest."

She didn't argue.

He walked her to her bedroom door, stopping just short of crossing that line. Respectful. Intentional.

"I'll see you this week," he said. It wasn't a question.

She smiled. "You better."

Zac leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead—slow, careful, full of promise.

"Goodnight, Fatima."

"Goodnight, Zac."

The Next Morning

The sterile scent of the hospital hit before the doors even fully opened.

Fatima adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, taking a steady breath as she stepped inside. Mornings like this always carried weight—the kind you felt in your chest before you even reached the elevator.