25 Years Ago
The soft morning light filtered through the kitchen window, casting a gentle glow over the breakfast table where Wile and Gumamela sat side by side. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the scent of toasted bread and ripe mangoes, creating a warm, inviting atmosphere that felt almost like a fragile promise of normalcy.
She stirred her cup slowly, her eyes tracing the steam rising in delicate swirls. She was quieter than usual, but there was a subtle shift in her demeanor—a faint lightness in the way she held herself, a softness in the way her lips curved when she glanced at Wile.
He watched her with a tender smile, grateful for these small moments of connection. “You’re doing better today,” he said gently, reaching across the table to brush a stray crumb from her
