After School
"She runs a youth center for Somali teens—homework help, mentoring, keeping them safe. He's the former gang member who turned his life around and now volunteers to help kids avoid his mistakes. Saving others leads to saving each other."
"I want to volunteer."
He stands in my doorway. Tattoos visible, past written on his face.
"This is a youth center."
"I know what it is." He steps inside. "I'm what those kids could become if they don't get help."
His name is Sahal.
Ten years on the streets. Four years clean. Now teaching kids that there's another way.
"Why here?" I ask.
"Because someone saved me once." He looks at the teenagers doing homework. "I owe it forward."
The kids love him.
He speaks their language. Knows their pressures. Survived what they're facing.
"You're good at this," I tell him.
"I'm honest at this." He watches a boy struggle with maths. "Honesty's all I've got."
"That's everything."
Late nights planning programs.
His redemption story, my community vision, building something bigger than both of us.
"You never judge me," he says.
"For what?"
"For who I was."
"I care about who you are." I meet his eyes. "Who you're becoming."
"And who's that?"
"Someone worth knowing."
He kisses me after a breakthrough.
A kid we've been mentoring gets into college. Success tastes sweeter shared.
"Sahal—"
"I never thought I'd have this."
"Have what?"
"Someone who sees me." He pulls me close. "All of me."
We make love in my office.
The center quiet, the kids long gone, just us and everything we've built.
"You're incredible—"
"We're incredible." He moves with me. "This is redemption."
We grow the center together.
More kids, more success stories, more proof that change is possible.
"I have something to ask," he says.
"Another program idea?"
"Better." He kneels. "Marry me. Let's keep saving kids and each other."
I say yes.
Best second chance ever.