By 8:00 PM, they reached the "Young Creatives" pop-up. The space was a converted warehouse filled with the smell of jerk chicken sliders and the sound of a live DJ mixing Afrobeats with 90s R&B. Malik’s photos were pinned to a corkboard wall—a series titled The Joy in the Mundane . He watched as people stopped to look at a shot of his little brother eating a dripping red popsicle on a hot July afternoon.

"Don't just stand there with the camera, 'Lik," Tasha laughed, not breaking her rhythm. "The pop-up gallery opens in an hour, and I still need to find that specific shade of gloss at the beauty supply."

The neon lights of the Uptown Arcade flickered against the damp pavement of 125th Street, but inside, the air was thick with the scent of vanilla hair oil and the rhythmic thumping of a bassline that felt like a heartbeat.