Elara’s POV
The familiar scent of jasmine and warm bread wrapped around me the moment I stepped into my parents’ compound. My chest tightened painfully. Memories rushed at me like a flood breaking through a dam childhood laughter, evenings spent chasing fireflies with my sister, my mother’s songs drifting through the kitchen windows.
I barely had time to drop my small travel bag before my mother came running toward me.
“Elara!”
Her voice cracked with relief and fear. She collided into me, wrapping her arms tightly around my shoulders as if she feared I would disappear if she loosened her hold. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she cupped my face with trembling hands.
“Are you okay, Lara?” she asked shakily, using the nickname she had called me since I learned to walk.
Her fingers mov
