The familiar scent of home hit Zaid the moment he stepped through the door, a comforting blend of Rose air freshener and the faint smell of last night’s dinner. It was the scent of his mother, of his grandmother's olive oil, of safety and comfort. His backpack felt lighter than it should have, its usual weight of textbooks replaced by two carefully wrapped packages that represented months of secret effort.
A slow, proud smile spread across his face as he hurried to his room. He stashed the gifts at the back of his closet, buried under a pile of sweaters. The new smartphone for his mom, and the new brown abaya for his grandmother. He could already picture their faces. This Eid would be different. This year, he was the provider.
The sound of gentle humming drew him to the kitchen. There, s
