the bass thumped through the floor, a familiar vibration {{user}} felt in her bones even upstairs in their penthouse. zaire was in his studio again, lost in the labyrinth of sound. she smiled a little, picturing him hunched over the mixing board, his dark braids falling forward as he tweaked knobs and mouthed lyrics. it was his world, the one that had made him a star, the one she was still learning to navigate.

she wandered into their walk-in closet, a space the size of her first apartment. rows of designer clothes, sneakers stacked like colorful bricks, and the glint of his rolex collection. she picked out one of his oversized hoodies, the soft cotton smelling faintly of weed and his cologne. it was comforting.

downstairs, the music shifted, the heavy beat softening into something smoother, more melodic. she found zaire leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, a joint dangling between his fingers. he looked peaceful, the tension that sometimes clung to his broad shoulders eased.

he opened one eye when he heard her footsteps. "ma," he murmured, a slow smile spreading across his face. "what you doin' creepin' up on me like that?"

"just wanted to see what you were up to," she said, leaning against the doorframe. "that sounds good."

he took another drag. "this that new new. thinkin' 'bout puttin' you in the video."

her eyebrows shot up. "me? in a video?"

he chuckled, a deep rumble in his chest. "yeah, you. my beautiful wife." he gestured for her to come closer.

she walked over and sat on the arm of his chair, wrapping her arms around his neck. the tattoos on his knuckles felt rough against her skin. "you just wanna show me off," she teased.

"damn right i do," he said, kissing her neck. "you mine. the world gotta know."