Ayana woke to her mother's tense voice drifting up from the kitchen, and the phone pressed to her ear. "Yes, I understand people are upset, but Nelson wouldn't lie about something like this. He's the most honest man I know."
A pause. Then, sharper: "Thomas Garrett has been your friend for thirty years, I understand that. But if the evidence is real—and the lawyers seem to think it is—then our loyalty should be to the truth, not to protecting reputations."
Ayana dressed quickly, descended the stairs to find her mother at the kitchen table, coffee untouched, Bible open but unread. The phone sat beside her like a weapon.
"Morning," Ayana said carefully.
"Morning." Her mother looked up, exhaustion evident in the lines around her eyes. "That was the fourth call this morning. People demanding your father take a stand, either supporting Nelson or condemning him. Half the church wants Nelson's head. The other half wants Thomas Garrett arrested immediately."
"What does Dad think?"
"Your father believes Nelson. Says the evidence is too solid to dispute. But he's hurting, Ana. Thomas has been in our church for decades. The idea that he'd steal from children—" Her mother's voice cracked. "It's shaken everyone's faith. In people, if not in God."
Ayana sat across from her. "Nelson did the right thing. Exposing corruption is never easy, but it is necessary."
"I know. I just wish—" Her mother stopped, composed herself. "I wish integrity didn't cost so much. Nelson's going to lose friends over this. Maybe his position. And for what? Money, that's probably already gone?"
"For justice. For those kids who deserved that money." Ayana kept her voice steady. "For being able to look himself in the mirror."
Her mother studied her face, something shifting in her expression. "You admire him."
"Of course. Who wouldn't?"
"No, I mean—" Her mother tilted her head. "You've always defended him. Even as a child. Whenever someone criticized his methods or questioned his dedication, you'd argue his side." A pause. "I used to think it was hero worship. Now I'm not sure."
Ayana's pulse spiked. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing. Just an observation." But her mother's eyes were too knowing. "Be careful with your loyalties, Ayana. This situation is going to get worse before it gets better. Supporting Nelson might cost you friendships. Opportunities. People might wonder why you're so invested in defending him."
The warning was clear. Ayana swallowed hard. "I'm invested because he's right. That's all."
"If you say so." Her mother returned to her Bible, but the conversation hung in the air like smoke.
---
The community centre was a war zone.
Ayana arrived for her afternoon tutoring shift to find protesters outside—mostly older church members, holding signs that read INNOCENT UNTIL PROVEN GUILTY and STOP THE WITCH HUNT and THOMAS GARRETT IS A GOOD MAN. They weren't violent, just loud, chanting slogans and blocking the entrance.
Inside, the atmosphere was tense. Half the staff wore exhaustion like armour. The other half whispered in corners, speculation running wild. Three volunteers had quit overnight. Two more were considering it.
Raven held court near the coffee station, surrounded by sympathetic listeners. "I'm just saying that timing is suspicious. Nelson discovers this 'evidence' right when the board was considering promoting him to the regional director? Convenient."
"That's not fair," another volunteer protested. "Nelson has documentation. Bank records. Email trails."
"Which could be fabricated. I'm not saying he did, I'm just saying—we don't know the whole story. And Nelson's been acting strange for weeks. Distracted. Secretive. Makes you wonder what else he's hiding."
Raven's eyes found Ayana across the room. The message was clear: I'm watching. I'm digging. And I will find your secret.
Dr. Hayes intercepted Ayana before she could reach her tutoring station. "Nelson's not coming in today. Advised to lay low while the lawyers handle initial proceedings. He's at home if you need to—" He caught himself. "If anyone needs to reach him for urgent centre business."
"Is he okay?"
"Physically? Yes. Emotionally?" Dr. Hayes's expression was grim. "He's carrying the weight of this entire situation. Blaming himself for the chaos. You know how he is."
"I do." Too well. Nelson would internalize every angry phone call, every friendship destroyed it would add it to his mountain of guilt and penance.
"Someone should check on him," Dr. Hayes said meaningfully. "Make sure he's eating. Sleeping. Not drowning in self-recrimination."
"I can—" Ayana stopped. Too eager. Too obvious. "I can call him. If that would help."
"I think it would help very much." Dr. Hayes squeezed her shoulder. "For what it's worth—I'm glad he has you. Even if neither of you can acknowledge it yet."
He walked away before she could respond.
The afternoon crawled. Ayana worked with her students, but her mind was elsewhere. On Nelson, alone in that sparse house, carrying this burden. On Raven, circling like a shark. On her mother's knowing looks and careful warnings.
On the deadline, they'd set—New Year's Day, two and a half weeks away—that suddenly felt impossibly far.
At four o'clock, her phone buzzed. Nelson: Can you come by tonight? Need to talk about centre logistics. Bring the volunteer schedule.
Code. He needed her but couldn't say it plainly. Not over text that could be seen, screenshot, used as evidence.
Ayana: What time works?
Nelson: Seven. Back door. Park on the next street.
Her heart ached at the precautions. This was what they'd become—secret meetings, coded language, constant fear of discovery.
But she'd still go. Of course she would.
---
At 6:45, she told her family she needed to return a book to Sara. Catherine's eyes said she knew exactly where Ayana was really going. Her mother's expression suggested suspicion but no proof.
"Don't be late," her mother said. "Tomorrow's prayer meeting. The whole family needs to present a united front."
"I won't be long."
She drove the long way, parked three blocks over, and walked through shadows to Nelson's back door. He was waiting, pulled her inside before she could knock, and held her like she was oxygen.
"I'm okay," she whispered against his chest. "I'm here. It's okay."
But it wasn't okay. She felt him shaking, felt the tension radiating off him in waves. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were raw with exhaustion and something darker—despair.
"It's falling apart," he said hoarsely. "Everything I built. The centre's losing funding. Parents are pulling kids from programs. The board is divided. Thomas Garrett's lawyer filed a defamation suit this afternoon seeking five million in damages."
"Five million?" Ayana's stomach dropped.
"He's claiming I destroyed his reputation out of personal vendetta. Says the evidence is circumstantial at best, fabricated at worst. His lawyer's good, Ayana. It's really good. And he has friends—powerful friends who'll testify to his character."
"But you have evidence. Bank records. Documentation."
"Which his lawyer is already working to discredit. Says I had access to systems and could have manipulated data." Nelson moved to the window, stared out at the dark. "Maybe I should have kept quiet. Let it go. Saved the centre from this mess."
"No." She went to him, turned him to face her. "You did the right thing. Children were being robbed. You couldn't ignore that."
"Couldn't I? Other people do. Every day. They see corruption and look away because fighting it costs too much." His voice broke. "Maybe I'm just selfish. Wanted to feel righteous. Wanted to prove I could still do something good after—" He stopped.
"After Sarah."
"Yeah." He slumped against the wall. "Twenty years trying to earn redemption, and I'm still falling short."
"You're not falling short. You're being human. Flawed and brave and trying." She cupped his face. "Nelson, look at me. You did the right thing. The hard thing. The thing that cost you. That's not selfishness. That's integrity."
"Then why does it feel like I'm destroying everything?"
"Because change always feels like destruction before it feels like growth." She pressed her forehead to his. "The centre will survive. The truth will come out. And you'll still be standing when this is over."
"Will I?" His hands came up, held her face like she might disappear. "Because right now I feel like I'm drowning. And you're the only thing keeping me above water."
"Then hold on to me." She kissed him softly. "We're in this together. Your fight is my fight."
"It shouldn't be. You shouldn't have to carry my burdens."
"Too late. I chose this. Choose you. All of you—including the parts that are breaking right now."
He kissed her like she was salvation, desperate and grateful, and shaking. They stood in his dark kitchen, holding each other while outside, Millbrook tore itself apart over truth and loyalty and the price of integrity.
"Two and a half weeks," he whispered. "Then we tell your father. Add our scandal to the pile."
"Or maybe," Ayana said slowly, "we tell him sooner. While everyone's distracted by the Garrett situation. Bury our news in the bigger chaos."
He pulled back and studied her face. "That's actually smart. Strategic."
"I learned from the best." She managed a smile. "What if we told him this weekend? Private conversation. Just us and my dad. Get it over with before Christmas."
"Before Christmas," Nelson repeated, testing the words. "Less than a week away."
"Yeah."
"Are you ready for that?"
"No. But I don't think I'll ever be ready. So, I might as well do it scared."
He kissed her forehead. "You're the bravest person I know."
"Then be brave with me." She took his hand. "This weekend. We tell him together."
"Okay." Fear and relief warred in his expression. "Okay. This weekend."
They'd just moved up their timeline by three weeks.
And neither of them knew if they were ready for what came next.