Zuri stepped onto the subway platform, her mind still filled with the sweet memories of the previous night with Suho. They had rekindled their connection, their relationship now stronger than ever. She was grateful that they had worked through their differences and had come out on the other side with a deeper understanding of each other.

As she boarded the subway, she noticed that it was unusually clear for a morning commute. The train car she entered had only a few passengers, which was a rare sight in the bustling city. Zuri found a seat and settled in, ready to start her workday.

However, her sense of calm was disrupted when a middle-aged British man took the seat next to her. There was something about his demeanor that immediately put her on edge. He gave her a lecherous look and leaned in a bit too close for comfort.

"Good morning, love," he said in a thick British accent, his voice oozing with a smugness that made Zuri's skin crawl.

Zuri forced a tight-lipped smile and replied, "Morning."

She pulled her phone from her bag and pretended to be engrossed in it, hoping that the man would take the hint and leave her alone. But he didn't.

"Beautiful morning, isn't it?" he continued, undeterred.

Zuri nodded without making eye contact. She wished she could teleport herself to a different subway car. The man's presence was making her uncomfortable, and she wanted to escape his gaze.

With a chuckle, he said, "You know, I couldn't help but notice your stunning eyes. They remind me of the ocean on a clear day."

Zuri's discomfort grew, and she tried to shift her attention back to her phone. She wondered how she could handle this unwelcome intrusion without causing a scene. And how did her eyes remind him of the ocean. They were brown. Creep.

The man, however, seemed to take her silence as an invitation to continue. He began to talk about his life, his work, and various stories that didn't interest Zuri in the slightest. She couldn't shake the feeling that he was trying to impress her or win her over with his tales.

The man's grin widened as he moved closer, invading her personal space. "You're a pretty one, aren't you?"

Zuri bristled, her jaw clenched with irritation. "Look, I'm not interested, alright?" She got up and moved away from the man.

"Aww, don't be like that, love," the man whined, clearly not willing to take a hint.

Zuri rolled her eyes, her patience wearing thin. She was tired of dealing with men who didn't know how to respect boundaries. "Broseph, just leave me alone," she hissed, her voice laced with frustration.

The man got up and stood in front of her, his expression turning menacing. "You can't just dismiss me like that, love. I'm trying to be nice."

"And I'm not," Zuri shot back, her gaze fierce and unwavering. "I'm not interested, and that's all you need to know."

Zuri glanced around the subway car, hoping for an ally or someone who might intervene. But it seemed like everyone else was lost in their own world, oblivious to her discomfort.

As the train rumbled through the tunnels, the man's intrusive conversation continued. Zuri couldn't help but think about how the subway ride had taken a strange and uncomfortable turn, far from the serenity of the previous night spent stargazing with Suho.

Zuri found herself at a dinner table with Suho, relieved to see him back after his work trip to Maine. Joon was present with his wife and kids, creating a lively atmosphere at the table. His parent's couldn't makeit.

As conversation flowed, the topic of being a person of color in America came up. Zuri shared her experiences and perspectives, highlighting the challenges and opportunities she had encountered.

Joon, however, held different views, leaning towards a more conservative perspective. He expressed his opinions, saying, "I think people of color sometimes hold themselves back with all this talk about discrimination. It's not as bad as they make it out to be."

Suho couldn't help but interject, "Joon, you do realize you're a person of color too, right?"

Zuri watched the exchange, a mix of amusement and frustration dancing in her eyes. The conversation revealed the complexities of discussing race and identity, even within a family.

Joon, with a challenging tone, began, "You know, Martin Luther King was nothing but a fraud and a fugitive. He was a criminal who incited violence."

Zuri's eyes flared with anger, her voice trembling as she responded, "You can't be serious. Martin Luther King was a symbol of hope, peace, and equality. He led the civil rights movement and made significant strides in the fight against racism."

Suho, trying to keep the peace, chimed in, "Guys, let's not get too worked up about this. We can have a civil discussion."

Joon leaned back, smirking, "Well, that's the version they teach you in schools, isn't it? The media glorifies him, but the reality is far from that."

Zuri shook her head, determined to stand her ground. "The media portrays him the way they do because he did extraordinary things for the cause of civil rights. He was a true leader."

Joon wasn't willing to let it go. "I'm just saying, Zuri, that sometimes people of color make a bigger deal out of things than they should. It's all about personal responsibility."

Suho, his patience wearing thin, retorted, "Joon, that's a sweeping generalization. It's not just about personal responsibility; it's about acknowledging systemic issues that still exist."

Zuri agreed, "Personal responsibility is essential, but that doesn't mean we should ignore systemic inequalities and historical injustices. We can't just sweep these issues under the rug."

Joon kept pushing, his tone increasingly antagonistic, "I think people like you cripple themselves by focusing on the past. It's a crutch."

Zuri, her frustration now evident, argued back, "Acknowledging our history is not a crutch; it's a way to ensure that we don't repeat the mistakes of the past."

Suho, growing frustrated with his brother's perspective, couldn't help but interject, "Joon, you should understand that there are deep-seated issues that persist. Pretending they don't exist won't make them go away."

But Joon continued to downplay the significance of the civil rights movement, saying, "You know, Suho, people like Zuri should be grateful they live in a country like America. They're lucky they're not in Africa or some war-torn country."

Zuri's patience snapped, and her voice rose, "You don't get it, Joon. Living in America doesn't erase the problems of racial discrimination and inequality. I love this country, but we can't turn a blind eye to the struggles that people of color still face here."

The argument raged on, the room growing uncomfortably hot with the tension between the two. Suho watched in dismay as the conversation veered into more dangerous territory, with Joon's comments taking on a white nationalist tone.

Zuri couldn't take it any longer. Joon's comments were like a relentless assault on her beliefs, and she felt like she was in a never-ending battle. She abruptly pushed her chair back, her face a mix of anger and frustration. She stood up, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she shot back at Joon, "Well, Joon, your insights have been truly enlightening."

With that, she turned and stormed out of the room, her footsteps echoing through the house. She needed to distance herself from the conversation and the mounting tension. The thought of Joon's dismissive remark echoed in her mind, only serving to fuel her anger even more.

As she made her way outside, she took deep breaths, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside her. She knew it was essential to remove herself from the situation, but she couldn't help but feel frustrated by Joon's stubbornness and ignorance.

In the distance, she could hear Joon's voice, saying, "Well, that was really productive." The sarcasm in his tone stung like salt on a wound. Zuri shook her head in disbelief, muttering under her breath, "Productive? Yeah, right."

She had no intention of engaging further in a conversation that was clearly going nowhere. Zuri needed some space to cool down and gather her thoughts. Today's argument had revealed a significant divide in their perspectives, and she wasn't going to let Joon's ignorance dampen her resolve to stand up for what she believed in.

The car ride back to Zuri's place was steeped in an uncomfortable silence. Suho's hands gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white from the tension. Zuri sat beside him, her gaze fixed on the passing city lights, lost in her thoughts. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken words and pent-up emotions, a stark contrast to the heated argument earlier.

As Suho navigated through the streets, the hum of the engine was the only sound breaking the quiet. Each stolen glance at Zuri filled him with a sense of regret and helplessness. He wanted to reach out, to say something, anything, to bridge the gap that had formed between them. But the words eluded him, and the fear of making things worse kept him silent.

Zuri, on the other hand, was a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings. The argument at the family gathering had left her emotionally drained and frustrated. She replayed the conversation in her mind, analyzing every word, every inflection. The way Joon had dismissed her views, the way Suho had tried to mediate – it all swirled in her head, a maelstrom of indignation and confusion.

The streets outside blurred as they drove on, the city's nightlife a mere backdrop to their internal turmoil. The occasional stoplight cast a red glow inside the car, accentuating the tense atmosphere. Suho's eyes occasionally darted to Zuri, seeking a sign, a cue on how to break the silence, but she remained impassive, her eyes never meeting his.

As they neared Zuri's place, the realization that the journey was coming to an end brought a sense of urgency. Suho's heart raced, knowing this could be the moment to speak, to apologize, to explain. But the weight of the situation held his words captive, and the silence persisted, a heavy shroud over them both.

Finally, they arrived at Zuri's apartment building. Suho pulled over, the car's engine idling as neither made a move to break the stillness. The ticking of the clock on the dashboard punctuated the quiet, a reminder of the time slipping away.

Zuri unbuckled her seatbelt, her movements slow and deliberate. She opened the car door but paused, her hand resting on the frame. For a fleeting moment, it seemed as though she might turn back, might say something to shatter the quiet. But then, with a deep breath, she stepped out, the door closing with a soft thud behind her.

Suho watched her walk away, her figure gradually disappearing into the building. The urge to call out to her, to chase after her, was overwhelming, but he remained frozen, a prisoner of his own indecision and fear.

As he drove away, the silence lingered, a stark reminder of the words left unsaid, the apologies unspoken, and the bridge yet to be mended. The night swallowed him whole, the city lights fading into the distance as he navigated the lonely streets, the echo of the night's events haunting him long after he'd said goodbye.