"What! Sera? With my boss?"
Big G's voice cracked the silence like thunder. He didn't even try to hide the mix of shock and that kind of disappointment that sits in the chest and stings.
I froze by the doorway. One foot in, the other still outside, like maybe I could pretend I hadn't walked into that moment.
The living room was dim, just the blue glow of the TV bouncing off the walls. Some game was on. Probably the Knicks again. But the sound was low, too low for someone actually watching. That's when I realized—he wasn't watching at all. He'd been waiting. For me.
He stood up slow, not angry yet, but heavy, like his body was trying to decide between pacing and praying.
"Sera," he said, eyes sharp and tired, "where you comin' from this time? You didn't call. You didn't text. I been worried outta my mind. That's not you."
My throat felt dry. My whole body buzzed like I'd just stepped into a test I hadn't studied for.
I tried to play it off. Shrugged like my backpack didn't feel ten times heavier with guilt.
"Uhh… it's nothin' serious. Just school stuff. Long day."
I couldn't even look at him when I said it.
Big G narrowed his eyes. His hands rested on his hips. That look again. The one that screamed 'Girl, don't play with me.'
I immediately knew he wasn't in for my gibberish nonsense.
His face? stone cold. Eyes? sharp. Hands on his waist like they were holding back something bigger than words.
Fear gripped me. Not the usual kind. The kind that starts in your chest and moves straight to your knees.
I hate when he's like this. I hate disappointing him.
"Okay. Dad… it was just a small chat. He invited me, that's all"
"Who?" His voice was too calm. The kind that says, 'don't lie to me.' He already knew. He just wanted to hear it.
I hesitated. Not 'cause I didn't know what to say, but because I was afraid of what it'd do to him.
"Sera!"
That yell shook something in me.
I flinched. He'd never shouted my name like that in months. Maybe even years.
"Malik," I blurted. Like the name had been sitting on my tongue all day, waiting to spill.
The silence that followed? Deafening.
He stared at me. Eyes wide, then low. Disbelief. Like he'd just heard a curse word come outta church.
"Daddy, it's not what you think, please. I swear, I can explain."
My voice cracked. And just like that, the tears came. I didn't fight them. What was the point?
I hadn't seen him look this broken since… since that time I burned the shirt he bought from his first big paycheck; left the iron on 'cause I was too busy scrolling Instagram. He didn't talk to me for two days.
This? This felt worse.
The tears? That was it. That was the break. Broke him. Shattered him to pieces. No words came. Just silence.
Then his arms wrapped around me, tight, almost desperate. He held me like I was slipping away and he wasn't ready to lose me. The kind of grip that said 'I'm scared too.'
Time stood still.
In that living room, in that second, it was just me and him. No secrets, no walls. Just the love of a father holding his only child like the world was crashing.
"How could you, Sera," he whispered into my ear, his voice shaking right beside my cheek. Still gripping me like tomorrow wasn't promised.
"I'm so sorry, Dad. I swear to you, it's not what you think." My words came out in pieces between sobs.
Finally, he let me go. Just enough to look at me straight in the eyes. His were glassy now. That hurt the most.
"With my boss? Malik? After what happened at the office… after that surprise?" he said, almost in a whisper. "Wasn't that enough to warn you?"
"Honestly, Dad, it wasn't like that. He just wanted to talk. Said he wanted to clear the air... 'cause of the awkward way we met. That's all it was."
"And you had to go? Without telling me?" he asked, softer now. That familiar Big G tone—gentle, hurt, but full of care.
That one got me. Right in the chest. I didn't know what else to say. Regret washed over me in waves. I hated seeing him like this. Hated making him worry.
I couldn't speak. The guilt, the shame, it sat on my tongue like lead.
Without thinking, I dropped to my knees. Not for drama. Just outta instinct. I needed him to know I was sorry. Really sorry.
But before my knees even hit the floor, he caught me, lifted me up like I was still his little girl, and led me to the couch.
"Come. Sit. Let's talk… like father and daughter."
Just like that It felt like a stone rolled clean off my chest.
Relief washed over me, pure, like a clean slate. No guilt. No shame. Just air in my lungs again. My heart felt lighter than a feather, like I could float outta that moment and breathe easy.
Rose was right. I had to tell him everything.
Big G's always been my safe place. My plug. The one who saw through my smiles, through my silence. So keeping this from him? That would've been dumb. Especially when he knows Malik way more than I do.
So I poured it all out.
How we first met at the creativity conference. How he noticed me, not just looked, but noticed, like he could hear things I wasn't saying. How he lingered after my performance, gave me his card with just M. Carter printed on it, all mysterious and buttoned-up. How I didn't even know he was 'that' Malik.
Then how I went to surprise Dad... and boom. I was the one who got the shock of my life.
And then how he invited me to talk. Just talk. How the conversation messed with my head more than I care to admit.
Big G didn't interrupt once. Just sat there, listening, nodding slowly like he was piecing together a puzzle he never knew existed.
Then came a long "Hmmmm."
That 'hmmmm' carried weight. The type that ain't just sound. A mix of "so this has been going on?" and "why didn't I see this coming?"
If I could read his heart in that moment, I think it was wondering how his daughter got this far with his boss and he had no idea.
There was this long, dragging silence.
Dad leaned back on the couch, arms folded across his chest, eyes fixed on nothing in particular. You could tell his mind had drifted far, like he was digging through thoughts he didn't wanna find.
"You know what?" he finally said, his voice low, like he wasn't even sure he wanted to say it out loud.
"What, Dad?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
He sighed, deep. "Malik... he's one of those few people I actually admire. Smart. Sharp. Knows what he wants. His discipline, the way he carries himself... it's something you don't find every day."
I nodded slowly, my fingers rubbing nervous circles into my lap.
"But that same thing," he continued, "the way he moves in silence... the way you never really know what he's thinking? That makes him dangerous."
My stomach turned a little.
"Dangerous how?" I asked.
"People like him, with that much power, that much control... they don't always know the kind of damage they cause. Even when they don't mean to."
I just listened. He continued.
"I've been around long enough to know it can pull you in before you even realize it."
Just as he said that, my phone rang.
We both looked at it.
Malik.
Again.
Dad let out this dry laugh. "Smiles. Take it. Let's hear what he wants now."
I picked up. My fingers trembled a little.
"Hello?" I said.
"Sera?" That voice. Calm. Smooth like honey over warm bread. "You home safe?"
"I am," I said quietly. I could feel Dad's eyes boring into the side of my face.
"Good," Malik said. "I just... I wanted to say thank you. For coming."
"That's thoughtful of you," I said, glancing quickly at Dad, who raised his brows like 'oh really?'
"Alright then. Sleep well."
"Goodnight," I replied, and hung up.
Before I could even exhale, Dad stood up. His voice was firm now.
"Sera," he said, looking down at me, "you gotta be careful. People like him? They don't always mean harm... but they bring it anyway. Without even knowing."
I stared at my phone, still lit with Malik's name. Then I looked up at Dad.
His eyes harder now.
I didn't know what scared me more. Is it what Malik wanted, or what my dad wasn't saying?