25 Years Ago
The sun hung low in the sky as Felipe tightened the twine around a bundle of harvested vegetables. The house had been unusually quiet for the past few days—Wile had left, though he called and texted, assuring them that everything was fine.
But now, something felt different.
Gumamela wiped her hands on a rag, standing outside the house, staring down the dirt path. A strange tension sat heavy in her chest.
And then, he arrived.
A sleek black car rolled onto the property, followed by another. Their engines hummed softly before shutting off, the doors clicking open with practiced efficiency.
And then Wile stepped out.
She nearly didn’t recognize him. Gone were the simple shirts he had grown accustomed to wearing—the modest clothing that had blended in with their quiet life.
