The annual Lagos Literary Festival had transformed the waterfront park into a vibrant celebration of stories. Colorful tents dotted the green space, authors signed books under shady trees, and the air carried the mingled scents of grilled suya, fried plantain, and fresh coffee. Laughter and animated discussions filled the afternoon as readers, writers, and curious locals moved between panels and stalls.
Claire walked through the crowd with Alex Jr.’s small hand firmly in hers. At five years old, he was a bundle of endless energy, pointing excitedly at book covers and asking a hundred questions. She smiled down at him, her heart full despite the quiet ache that never fully left.
“Look, Mummy! A big wolf book!” Alex Jr. tugged her toward a stall displaying fantasy novels.
Claire’s breath
