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The house was quiet. Zahra stood by the table, the old picture in her hand. A baby girl with big eyes stared back. `That is you,` Amina said, her voice low. Zahra could not look away. `How old was I?` she asked. `Two months,` Amina said. `The clinic took you. They said you were sick. I never saw you again.` Zainab sat on the mat and watched them both. Amara closed the door. `Why did they take her?` she asked. Amina sat down slow. `I had no money. The nurse said I must pay. I came back the next day. They said a new mother took her.` Zahra’s hands shook. `So you did not give me away.` Amina shook her head. `Never. I searched for years. Markets. Churches. Streets.` Boma spoke soft. `We can find the records. If the clinic still stands.` Zahra put the picture down. Her chest felt tight,
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