Page 67 of Butterfly 6, Phase 1

“She’s doing okay, getting better every day,” Ethic answered.

“And her memory?”

“I’m on pins and needles just waiting for judgment day, man. I want to tell her the truth, but once I do, I lose my world. I can barely look her in the eyes,” Ethic admitted.

“You’re making the best decision for her,” Nyair said. “I love La. Known her a long time. I wouldn’t encourage this if I thought the truth was in her best interest. The truth will do more damage than good. It’ll kill her. It’s not even just about the marriage, G. Alani won’t have any of the context clues to process the truth if you tell her. She won’t remember the hellfire she spit or the burns you endured trying to dig your way across the battleground to earn redemption and forgiveness. You’ll break her heart with your sin, and then break it again when she remembers her brother’s. You got to find some way to make peace with her not knowing. Just make your wife fall in love with the life you have now. Stop treating her as a patient and court her again.”

Ethic nodded. If he had to keep this secret for the rest of their lives, it would kill him, but then again, he was already dying slowly from the sin alone. He wondered if unburdening his soul was selfish or freeing. He had to find a way to deal with the inner turmoil, or they would never find a path forward. They were stuck in this reality that required his wife to love a representative of him. That was the beauty of them. Alani loved the darkest parts of him. She accepted him, flaws and all. What he was presenting to her was a lie. It was perfection, and although he was a doting and loving husband, he had caused her ugliest scar. When she praised him, he cringed inside because she was praising a façade, falling for half of him. The special part about their relationship was that God had seen them through the storm together.

“We’ve never been built on lies…”

“I’m a man of God, Ethic, and I’m telling you, spare her,” Nyair advised. “You’ll ease your guilt but ignite hers.”

Ethic sighed. He sat on the opposing leather couch from Nyair. Legs wide, he leaned over onto his knees. The room was darkly decorated in a navy so deep it appeared black on the walls. The sun snuck through the curtains, illuminating the space. Expensive cognac and family pictures lined the shelves behind Nyair, and Ethic lifted his eyes to admire them. Wedding pictures, baby pictures, family Christmas portraits that Alani insisted they take. This home was hers. She had earned it, tear by tear. Ethic was haunted. His beard had grown in thicker in these last few weeks. He had been taking care of everyone but himself, and he rubbed the side of his face as his mind raced. He swept one hand over his mouth, like the truth was crawling up his throat and he was trying to keep it gated. His destiny, his salvation, and his forgiveness were upstairs. She was lying in his bed, ring on her finger, last name branding her. She was extending her trust to the devil, and it killed him. She held the softest gaze for him, even softer than before, because she didn’t realize he had the potential to break her. She still reached for him in the middle of the night. She still offered a smile when she had very little strength to offer. She still pecked his lips when he leaned in to adjust her pillows. She still looked at their daughter with delight, like birthing his seed was a prize she had won. An accomplishment, like the firstborn heir. Alani thought he was her teammate, her soul mate, and that they had survived something hard together, but he was the something hard.

“She’s searching for pieces of the truth. She feels that something isn’t right. She went through my things the other day, Ny.”

Ethic leaned back against the couch, eyes to the ceiling, wishing that God would crack open the sky and give them a different story. Ethic’s jaw was so tense it hurt as he clenched his teeth.

“I’m walking around this mu’fucka like I feel her pain and I am her pain.”

“You’re her husband, and she needs you to keep her on solid ground, G. It’s not even an option. It’s your duty.”

“Fuck I’m supposed to keep her on solid ground when I’m one memory away from losing my life. She’s my life, Ny. She’s an inch away from opening her eyes and seeing her daughter’s killer. I’m scared to look my wife in the eyes, cuz one day it’s gon’ be my last time.” Ethic swallowed hard and leaned forward. He opened his palms, flexing them, remembering the night they were covered in Kenzie’s blood.

Those same hands rubbed Eazy’s head in reassurance. They held True’s bottle and rubbed Alani’s feet when they were swollen. They cheered for Bella when she was on the volleyball court or chanting for her high school on the sideline. They held Morgan when she went through hard times. No amount of gentleness could erase the sins these hands had committed.

The faint sound of True’s cries shuttered Ethic’s eyes. His baby girl. Her cries affected him deeply because it felt audacious for him to get to move on like he hadn’t single-handedly put another baby girl in the ground. Life had moved on, even after such a tragedy, and he knew he didn’t deserve the joy True brought him. She was proof that joy and devastation could co-exist. Under the same roof. Within the same man.

“Come on, man. Alani will want to see you,” Ethic said, standing with the weight of elephants on his shoulders. The two men braved the journey together.

The house was loud. Messari and Eazy raced by them.

“Whoa! E, you know better,” Ethic chastised, intercepting Messari and pulling him in for some roughhousing. Messari howled, and Eazy grinned.

“I’m just trying to tire him out,” Eazy admitted. In truth, the twins kept Eazy young. He was getting bigger every day; pre-teens were upon them, and Ethic missed him being smaller.

“Take that hoodie off, Big Man, before you overheat,” Ethic said. He would have given any reason to see Eazy’s wrists and arms. He was making a habit of being conscious of any marks on his son’s body. Eazy peeled out of the hoodie, and Nyair looked at Ethic knowingly, peeping the relief that washed over Ethic when Eazy’s arms were injury-free.

“A’ight, y’all go sit down somewhere,” Ethic stated.

Ethic led the way, holding onto the banister as they climbed the stairs.

His bedroom was at the end of the hall. The double doors were open, and Alani sat, propped against the mountain of pillows in bed.

“You’re home,” she said with a soft smile. Always soft. Always beautiful. She looked fragile, but he knew his baby was strong. Motherhood had her glowing, but exhaustion was visible, too. It was the kind of tiredness that came with postpartum.

“Hey, baby,” Ethic greeted, walking in and leaning over her. Their kiss made his heart race. Nyair lingered near the door.

“You can come in, too,” Alani said, smiling. “Thank you for coming.”

“You called Ny here?” Ethic asked.

“Yeah, I umm,” Alani stammered. “I need to talk to you,” she said, looking past Ethic.

This felt like doom. It felt like a reckoning, and Ethic faltered as his eyes flickered in fear.

“Do you mind?” Alani asked, shifting her gaze to him.