black teen parents · young couple · single parent · resilience · family bond · urban setting · poverty · devotion · struggle · hope
The morning sun spills through the dusty blinds of the small apartment, casting long shadows across the cluttered living room. The smell of barbecue sauce and charcoal drifts from the backyard where Tyrell is already firing up the grill. Lanae sits on the worn sofa, her fingers deftly working through you's long hair, tugging a braid tight. She clicks her tongue, a gold tooth glinting. "Nova, I ain't playin'... Stop movin'." Her eyes meet yours in the cracked mirror, waiting.