Scene: “Soft Bloom” — Backyard Vibes, the Boys + Imani + Josh
Setting: Late afternoon. The new house is humming with small activity. A soft breeze rolls through the trees, and for the first time in a long time, there's no tension choking the air. Just life. Just little pieces of peace.
Cut to: The boys in the kitchen, glancing through the back windows.
Jimmy’s the first to notice, chewing on the last bite of a biscuit from breakfast leftovers. He elbows Solo.
“Aye,” he mutters, nodding out the window. “She lookin’ real… I dunno, floaty.”
Solo leans over, squinting. “She glowing or something?”
“Hair out. Earpods in. Plantin’ shit like we ain’t got no enemies left.”
Roman walks in just in time to catch the tail end. “That’s what peace look like, fellas. Don’t act like y’all don’t recognize it.”
Jimmy scoffs. “It’s just—last week she was draggin’ bodies and buildin’ frames, now she out there barefoot playin’ Erykah Badu.”
“She ain’t playin’,” Roman says, serious. “She is Erykah Badu right now.”
They all chuckle, but Roman doesn’t drop the observation. “Nah but for real—she done softened up. You feel that shift? That’s a woman whose storm's still there, but she ain’t drownin’ in it no more. She settlin’. Somebody gave her space to exhale.”
They all turn their heads in unison—through the window, toward Josh.
He’s already walking across the grass, making his way toward her.
Jimmy shakes his head with a smirk. “He ‘bout to go pretend he know somethin’ ‘bout plants.”
Cut to: Backyard — Imani with earphones in, fingers deep in soil
Her curls bounce around her shoulders, slightly damp from the earlier shower. She’s humming low under her breath, eyes soft as she gently presses basil into a fresh pot. A line of planters trails behind her—lavender, mint, peppers. Nothing fancy, just life she’s decided to grow with her own hands.
Josh steps up quietly, careful not to spook her.
“Don’t step on my rosemary,” she calls without turning around, slipping one bud into a fresh patch of dirt.
Josh smirks, settling beside her. “Damn. Can’t even sneak up on you when you vibin’.”
Imani finally looks up, one earphone still in. “You heavy-footed. The ground told me before I saw you.”
He crouches beside her. “What you listenin’ to?”
She pops the earbud out and offers it. “Some Bilal. You wouldn’t get it.”
Josh puts it in anyway, humming softly as the jazzy soul floats through.
They sit there in silence for a moment. Her hands move on instinct—dig, pat, water. And Josh just watches. Every soft movement, every little breath, the way her mouth parts slightly when she’s in deep focus.
“Why now?” he finally asks, voice quiet. “The plants, the hair out… you.”
Imani pauses, glances over at him, then shrugs. “Because I finally can.”
That’s all she says. But it’s everything.
Josh leans back on his hands, letting the sun catch his skin. “You want help?”
She eyes him sideways. “You gonna follow directions, or you just wanna sit close?”
She smiles. Barely. But it’s enough.
“Fine. Start with the sage. Pot’s right there.”
Josh scoots in, mimicking her moves—clumsier, but trying.
And somewhere between the soil under their nails and the sunlight painting her skin, something roots deeper between them. Something that didn’t come from chaos, or survival, or sex.
The front yard was alive with movement, laughter thick in the late afternoon air. Sweat glistened on foreheads and shirts were long since discarded or clinging damp to backs. The men—Josh, Jimmy, Solo, Roman, and Jacob—moved like they used to, sharp and wild, but with more weight now. Not just physically, but soul-deep. Still, there was joy in it, something almost childlike as they tossed the football, smacked shoulders, and hollered out old jokes from a time when life hadn’t been so heavy.
Imani watched from the porch for a while, sipping on sweet tea, barefoot, her curls wild and free around her face. She looked like summer. Not just in the way she dressed—shorts hugging hips, one of Josh’s old tanks knotted at the waist—but in her energy. Lush. Alive. Rested.
And then she stood, casually walking toward them like it was nothing.
“Y’all need some competition,” she called out, tossing her cup back onto the porch and stretching like she was clocking in.
They hooted at her. Jimmy clapped like it was the best thing that had happened all week. Roman laughed so hard he bent over.
Josh just smiled. Low and deep. That smile that never quite made it to his lips but sat heavy in his eyes when she did something only she could.
“Don’t let the lashes fool y’all,” she warned, squatting to tighten her shoelaces, “I ain’t one of them cute-for-nothing girls.”
She picked the opposite team from Josh without hesitation, mouthing a taunting “I don’t do favorites” as she lined up beside Roman and Jimmy.
The game kicked off, and Imani was in it. Fast on her feet, low to the ground, slick with her comebacks. She juked Roman so smooth he hollered in disbelief and flopped onto the grass. She snatched a flag off Josh with a little celebratory spin, smacking his arm as she darted away.
Josh couldn’t even be mad—watching her in the sun, laughing with her whole body, trash talking Solo while dodging him with a hop-step he’d swear she stole from one of them.
For a moment, the world softened.
No past. No blood. No running.
And the woman who was never just anything showing that she belonged in every space they did—and still stood all her own.
The sun dipped lower, casting everything in a gold glaze. The boys were catching their breath, sipping cold drinks and dragging their hands down their faces as they geared up for another round of flag football. Josh was mid-trash talk, calling Roman out for always trying to quarterback when he couldn’t throw straight, when—
A water balloon exploded right on Jacob’s back, drenching him in a clean splash that made him shout.
Another hit Jimmy square in the chest. Then another flew just past Josh’s head and burst on the grass behind him.
“What the hell is that?!” Solo barked, dodging left.
Josh’s eyes shot upward toward the creak of the balcony.
There she was—Imani—crouched like a sniper, lips pursed around a grin, hand already cocked back with another balloon.
“Y’all ain’t the only ones that can plot,” she yelled gleefully, “Welcome to my version of defense, boys!”
She released one final balloon that hit Roman right on his shoulder with a wet thwack before he could move.
Feet hitting the grass, wild laughter tearing from her chest as the guys roared behind her, hollering threats and laughter.
Josh was already sprinting. “Oh, you think this is a game?”
She squealed, dodging past the big tree, ducking under Solo’s arm, arms flailing like she was ten years younger and had no fear in her bones. Her curls bounced, tank top damp from the splashback, but she didn’t care. She was flying.
Jimmy nearly caught her, but she slipped through his hands, yelling, “Y’all slow! That’s that old man muscle!”
Roman tried to flank her but ended up on the ground again, howling.
He came at her from the side, scooping her up mid-run like she weighed nothing, spinning her once in the air as she kicked and screamed in mock betrayal.
“You ambushed us with balloons, you think I’m lettin’ you go that easy?”
Her laugh was wild in his ear, hands braced against his chest, trying not to smile too big. “Y’all was gettin’ cocky.”
“And now you’re gonna pay.”
He dropped her gently into the grass, tickling her ribs until she howled, then laid beside her while the others circled, still laughing, still soaked, the whole group basking in the chaos she’d created.
This was the joy they didn’t know they needed.
And her? She was the storm and the sun after it. The fire and the cooling water.
Their wild, soft, chaos-bringing center.
The fire crackled soft in the night, licking the sky with orange tongues while the scent of charred hot dogs and toasted buns still hung in the air. Roman was telling some half-true story about Solo getting curved in high school, and Jimmy was already leaning too far back in his chair, sleep dragging his eyes down, a half-eaten marshmallow stick still in his hand.
Josh had Imani tucked between his legs, her back resting against his chest, her knees pulled close. His arms hung loosely around her waist, thumbs brushing soft circles into her hips without even thinking. She was warm, a little smoky, eyelids low with the kind of tired that only came after laughter and peace.
The fire popped, Solo let out a belly laugh at Roman’s expense, and somewhere behind them, a cricket orchestra carried on.
Imani's voice was low when she finally spoke. “I never knew I’d have a family again…”
It wasn’t dramatic. No violins. Just a truth dropped into the middle of the circle like a stone in water.
Everyone quieted for a beat—not out of pity, but respect.
Josh looked down at her, heart thudding in his chest at the simplicity of it. The weight. The honesty. The reminder that for all her strength and storm, this was a woman who had walked through fire alone.
She slowly stood, stretching her arms over her head, joints popping softly.
“Today was fun,” she added with a tired smile, like she almost couldn’t believe it herself.
And without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked toward the house, the back of her hoodie catching a flicker of the firelight. No drama. No tears. Just a peace she hadn’t known in a long time, guiding her feet toward rest.
The fellas stayed quiet a little longer.
He just watched her go, chest full, grateful that she said it at all.
And around him, the fire cracked on, soft snores coming from a few chairs, and the night settling in like a long exhale.
The fire had died down to soft embers, glowing orange like the heartbeat of the night.
Jimmy was out cold, snoring with his head tilted back so far he looked broken. Solo was halfway there, mumbling something about “putting some damn respect” on his name before drifting off completely.
Only Roman was still up with Josh, the two of them nursing the last of the cold beers, seated in comfortable silence for a minute.
Josh sat forward slightly, elbows on his knees, the firelight reflecting in his eyes—but his mind wasn’t there.
“She meant that,” Roman said finally, voice low. “About the family thing.”
Josh didn’t answer at first. Just nodded once, jaw tight.
Roman glanced at him. “You ever tell her what she is to you?”
Josh exhaled. “Not the way I should.”
“She’s not a regular woman, bro,” Roman said, tossing a twig into the embers. “You know that. She ain’t waitin’ around to be saved—she is the save. So if you gon’ have her, you gotta be ready to hold her too.”
Josh nodded again, this time slower. He was quiet, processing.
“She’s upstairs right now, out cold,” he said after a moment. “Like actually sleep. I ain't seen her like that since this whole thing started. No gun tucked, no shoes on standby. Just… restin’.”
“Because she trusts you,” Roman said. “At least a little.”
Josh looked up toward the house like he could see through the walls. He knew exactly where she was. She’d curled up diagonally across the bed, one leg dangling off, mouth probably parted in deep sleep. Her face would be soft again, not scrunched up from carrying the weight of survival.
“She built us somethin’, Ro,” Josh murmured. “Not just a house, either. She built peace. Outta nothing.”
Roman nodded. “Then don’t fumble it.”
Josh leaned back in his chair, the weight of the day, of her, of everything—settling across his shoulders.
“She’s not gon’ say it,” Roman added, glancing up at the dark sky, “but she’s waitin’ on you to tell her where this is going. And I don’t mean in code or that ‘you mine’ shit. She’s a grown woman. Wants to be claimed right.”
Josh let the words hit and sink. He didn’t say anything back. Didn’t need to.
The house stood quiet behind them. Upstairs, Imani lay curled up in soft cotton sheets, the first full night of rest she'd had in what felt like years.
Outside, the wind shifted. Somewhere, a new day was waiting.
Roman leaned forward, elbows on his knees, gaze fixed on the dying fire. The silence stretched between them, easy but heavy—like they were both thinking too much to say anything light.
Then, with a low grunt, Roman took a sip of his beer and side-eyed Josh. “I mean, if it were my girl, after all that? After the bodies, the blood, the building? Shit…” He shook his head. “I couldn’t be out here runnin’ around bein’ no little boyfriend.”
Josh glanced at him, eyebrows raised slightly.
“I’d be her old man, the only man. Ten toes. No confusion,” Roman continued. “No space for her to wonder. She got her own storm, and she still found time to make a damn home. That ain’t the kinda woman you let hang in limbo.”
Josh looked back toward the house again, jaw clenched. Her shadow wasn’t anywhere near, but he could feel her presence like gravity.
Roman smirked and leaned back. “But hey… you grown. Just don’t act shocked when somebody else steps in who ain’tscared to wear that title proud.”
Josh didn’t respond—he just stood, slow and thoughtful. Tossed the last sip of beer into the fire, the sizzle loud in the quiet.
He didn’t go in right away.
But he was thinkin’ about it now.
The sun was already up when Imani stirred. No alarm, no urgency. Just the cool brush of a breeze through cracked windows and the scent of pine and something distant, sweet—maybe dew lifting off warm earth. She didn’t rush, not today. She moved through her morning like a woman who’d decided joy could be chosen. Took her time showering, moisturizing, pulling on a laid-back fit with her hoops in and a touch of gloss. Hair big, soft, and natural—crowned, unapologetic.
By the time she stepped outside, the boys were already scattered across the porch and yard, yawning, joking, play-wrestling near the trucks. Solo had a leftover biscuit in one hand and was trying to explain why he should’ve gone pro in high school. Jimmy was pretending not to listen but rolled his eyes with all the older sibling exhaustion in the world.
Imani stepped onto the porch and cleared her throat. They all paused. She held up a few envelopes and her phone.
“Y’all deserve a fun day,” she said simply. “I got tickets for the movies in town, arcade passes too.”
“Movies?” Jimmy blinked. “You takin’ us on a field trip, Miss Imani?”
“Damn right,” she said with a smirk. “I saw how y’all lit up playin’ in the yard yesterday. Figured it’d be good to keep the streak goin’. Been too much stress, too much blood. Y’all still young—well, some of y’all,” she side-eyed Roman.
Roman held a hand to his chest dramatically. “Wow.”
“Arcade, huh?” Solo perked up. “Bet.”
Laughter circled around her like sunlight.
But Josh? He was quiet. Watching.
Her words filtered through his head, but his thoughts were already layered. Roman’s voice from the night before came back, echoing like a truth that wouldn’t let up.
“I’d be her old man, the only man.”
That was no casual thing. That was declaration. That was choice.
And watching her now—how she moved with intention, gave without demanding, offered softness like a gift even when she carried weight alone—Josh felt the pull. She was building a world even when she didn’t have to. Choosing to livewhile they were still trying to survive.
He didn’t say anything right then.
It was already sitting on his tongue.
The town was a little over an hour away, tucked past winding roads and stretches of trees that caught the morning light just right. Imani drove one car, Josh behind her in another with his brothers and cousin packed in like overgrown kids. They cracked jokes, fought over the aux cord, and called out challenges before the movie even started.
By the time they pulled into the lot, the boys had turned into boys again. Jimmy was pointing at a big movie poster with unnecessary drama—“This gonna be me if y’all don’t hush.” Solo kept calling shotgun even though they were already out the car. Roman strutted ahead like he owned the theater, talking about snacks like it was a military op.
Imani paid for it all, ignoring their attempts to argue. “Shut up and let a woman treat y’all for once,” she waved off.
Inside, they took up nearly a whole row. Imani sat near the end, between Josh and Roman. Halfway through the movie, she glanced down the row—Roman’s head tilted back, cackling too loud. Solo leaned forward, eyes wide like he was seeing cinema for the first time. Jimmy snuck a handful of candy from Josh, who didn’t even flinch, too invested in the scene.
He wasn’t stiff. He was leaned back, one arm draped behind Imani’s seat, not touching—but there. Relaxed in a way she hadn’t seen yet. Not since that night. Not since all of this.
It made her smile. It made her heart soften.
After the movie, they hit the arcade. And that’s when the chaos really began.
These giant men were everywhere—shooting hoops, racing digital cars, trying to knock down clowns with rubber balls. Roman cheated at skee-ball. Jimmy took DDR a little too seriously. Solo cleared a claw machine on the first try and damn near strutted around with a stuffed unicorn like it was a trophy.
Josh found himself in a mini shootout game beside Imani. She loaded her fake weapon and smirked at him. “Try to keep up, killer.”
He grinned, boyish. “Bet you five tickets I clear the level before you.”
“You gon’ need more than five tickets to catch up to me, Fatu.”
They played through like rivals, laughing, bumping shoulders, trash talking. It was...normal. Not peace forever, but peace for now. And it was good.
Later, they all regrouped with bags of candy and ticket stubs. They cashed in for prizes none of them needed—plastic toys, keychains, noise-makers. Imani got a crown shoved onto her head by Roman who declared her “the real MVP.”
They took a photo in the booth. Squeezed in, loud, layered, messy. One of those pictures that catches joy mid-motion.
And when they got back to the house, full and flushed from laughter, Imani caught herself watching them. These big, tired men who had become brothers by fire, finally laughing like the world wasn’t chasing them. She didn’t say anything. Just stood by the porch, watching them walk toward the door—Solo mimicking a game move, Jimmy still smacking on candy, Josh dragging behind a little, eyes catching hers.
He didn’t speak, just gave her a look. One that said he saw everything.
Because today, they got to live.
The house was quieter than it had been in days. Solo was snoring from the living room couch, Jimmy had passed out half on and half off the guest bed, and Roman was probably still sifting through leftover candy muttering about why green apple was the worst flavor.
Imani sat on the back porch, a blanket across her legs, a half-empty mason jar in her hand. She had music playing low through a little speaker by the door—something soulful and old, the kind of song that clung to your ribs.
Josh stepped out, hoodie on, hand rubbing the back of his neck like he was shaking off the last of the laughter from earlier. He didn’t speak right away. Just sat beside her, close, but not pressing.
For a minute, they just sat like that. Her eyes on the stars. His on her.
“You know… I watched ’em today,” he said quietly. “My brothers. Roman. All of us. It’s been a long time since we laughed like that.”
Imani glanced at him sideways but didn’t interrupt.
He let out a breath. “You gave us somethin’ today, Imani. Gave me somethin’. I ain’t even know I needed it like that. But you brought it back without askin’ for shit in return.”
She scoffed, lips twitching around her glass. “I bought y’all some damn tickets and pizza, Josh.”
He turned to her more fully, voice firm but not forceful. “Nah. You gave us a day where we weren’t just runnin’ or hidin’ or killin’. You gave us space to breathe. That ain’t small to me.”
Imani blinked. Took a slow sip, like she was letting his words settle.
Then, she leaned her head slightly against his shoulder—not fully, just enough for the warmth. “I’m not used to men sayin’ thank you unless they tryin’ to follow it with a favor.”
Josh chuckled low in his chest. “I ain’t askin’ you for nothin’.”
Another quiet moment passed.
Then her voice, soft and a little tired, “You welcome, Fatu.”
Josh tilted his head, kissed the top of her loc-free crown—slow, not trying to stir anything. Just...respect.
And they sat there, two souls that had been torn open by the world, holding a bit of peace between them on that porch, like they weren’t surviving anymore.
Just...existing. Together.
