ASHES BENEATH THE CROWN 👑

The dust always woke before the sun. It rose slowly from the dry earth, curling into the air like it had somewhere important to be, unlike the people in the village who moved only because life pushed them. Amina was already kneeling by the basin when the first light crept across the sky. Her hands moved in the cold water, scrubbing fabric that wasn’t hers, clothes that never seemed to end. The water had long turned grey, but changing it meant walking to the well again, and walking to the well meant losing time. And losing time meant trouble. “Are you planning to sleep in that position?” The voice came sharp, slicing through the quiet morning. Amina didn’t turn. “I woke up early, Auntie,” she said softly. Auntie Abena stepped into the yard, tying her wrapper tighter around her waist, her eyes already filled with irritation, as if anger was the only thing that kept her warm. “Early?” she scoffed. “If you were truly serious, the cooking fire would be ready by now.” Amina swallowed. She hadn’t lit the fire yet. “I’ll do it now.” “You will do it now,” Abena mocked, stepping closer. “You always do things after I speak. Must I remind you every day that you are not a guest here?” Amina lowered her gaze. The answer was no. But silence was safer. Abena snatched one of the shirts from the basin, inspecting it with exaggerated scrutiny before tossing it back. “Useless girl,” she muttered. “If your mother had any sense, she would have taken you with her instead of leaving you here.” The words landed like they always did. Quiet. Heavy. Familiar. Amina kept scrubbing. Because if she stopped, even for a second, the pain might rise to the surface. And she didn’t have time for that.