The Nnadede family arrived in the late morning sunlight like a small benediction, cautious and unsure, as if they were stepping into a house that belonged to someone else’s life.
Ifeanyi kept his hat in both hands, a polite, old-fashioned gesture that made Sarah smile the way one smiles at a memory of home.
Nkem walked a few steps behind him, moving with the backward-glance reserve of a girl who had been forced to hide for too long; she was smaller now, shoulders tight, but there was a curious steadiness beneath her quiet.
They spoke slowly at first. Ifeanyi’s gratitude unfurled like something hesitant and precious. He talked about the small house back in Enugu, about how he had taught his daughter to sing little songs to stop her crying.
“You did not save only my daughter,” he sai
