The call came just after midnight.
Jay stared at his phone as it vibrated against the table, the screen lighting up the room in short pulses. Unknown number. He already knew what it meant. Calls like this didn't come with good news, and they never came by accident.
He let it ring once.
Twice.
Then he picked up.
"Jay," a voice said, familiar and unwelcome. "Long time."
He didn't answer immediately. He walked to the window instead, pulling the curtain aside just enough to see the street below. Quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that made old instincts wake up.
"What do you want, Malik?" Jay asked.
A soft laugh came through the line. "Straight to business. You've changed."
"Say what you need to say."
Malik paused, like he enjoyed being made to wait. "Word is you've been keeping your head down. Moving different. Thought maybe you forgot where you came from."
Jay's grip tightened on the phone. "I remember."
"Good. Then you'll remember me asking you for help isn't new."
There it was.
Jay closed his eyes briefly. Images surfaced without permission—late nights, fast money, mistakes that felt clever at the time. Doors he'd walked through because they were open, not because they were right.
"I'm not in that anymore," Jay said.
Another pause. Longer this time.
"You don't get to decide when you're out," Malik replied. "Life does."
The line went dead.
Jay stood there for a moment, phone pressed to his ear, listening to nothing. His chest felt tight—not with fear, but with something heavier. Disappointment, maybe. Or grief for a version of himself he was finally letting go of.
He dropped onto the chair, rubbing his face. The city outside hadn't changed. But the way it pressed in on him had.
A knock came at the door.
Jay froze.
Then another knock—lighter, hesitant.
"Jay?" Zara's voice. "You home?"
He stood up quickly, crossed the room, and opened the door.
She looked at him once and knew. Zara always knew.
"You okay?" she asked.
"Yeah," he said automatically.
She raised an eyebrow. "Try again."
Jay stepped aside to let her in. She didn't rush him. Just moved slowly, taking in the room, the tension sitting in the air like unfinished business.
"Someone called," he said.
"Someone from before?"
He nodded.
Zara exhaled softly. "And?"
"And I told him I'm not in it anymore."
She watched him closely. "And did you believe yourself when you said it?"
The question caught him off guard.
"I want to," Jay admitted.
Zara leaned against the table. "Wanting to is a start. But people from your past don't knock just to say hello."
Jay let out a dry laugh. "Feels like every time I take a step forward, something pulls me back."
"Not pulls," she corrected gently. "Tests."
He looked at her.
"Change gets tested," she continued. "If it didn't, it wouldn't be real."
Jay sat back down, elbows on his knees. "What if I fail?"
Zara didn't answer right away. She walked to the window, looked out at the street the same way he had.
"Then you learn," she said. "But failing doesn't erase progress. It just shows you where you're still vulnerable."
Jay stared at the floor. "You make it sound simple."
"It's not," she said. "It's just honest."
Another silence fell between them. This one heavier, charged.
"Malik won't stop," Jay said quietly. "He never does."
Zara turned to face him. "Then you decide who gets access to you."
He looked up. "And if saying no costs me?"
"Everything costs something," she said. "The question is what you're willing to pay for."
Jay thought about the boys from earlier. The nod that felt distant. The door that closed without slamming.
"I'm tired of paying with myself," he said.
Zara's expression softened—not pity, not fear. Respect.
"Then don't answer the next call alone," she said.
Jay frowned. "What does that mean?"
"It means you don't have to prove strength by isolating yourself," she replied. "Letting someone stand with you doesn't make you weak."
The words settled deep.
Outside, a car passed, music low, almost gentle. The city was still watching.
Jay picked up his phone, stared at the dark screen. The unknown number didn't feel powerful anymore. Just loud.
"I don't know what comes next," he said.
Zara stepped closer. "Neither do I."
She met his eyes. "But I know who you're trying to be."
That mattered more than she probably knew.
Jay turned the phone face down on the table.
For now, that was his answer.
The city didn't react.
It didn't need to.
It had seen this moment before—
the moment where the past knocks,
and the future waits to see what you'll do.