hadn’t given a reason for the longer visit, and we didn’t ask for one. She simply arrived with her bags and a quiet look in her eyes that told us she had come to say something.
The first few days passed gently. She spent time on the porch even when it was cold, helped Elias repair a loose board on the back steps, and cooked with us without being asked. She didn’t bring up the future. We didn’t either.
On the fifth night, after dinner, she asked if we could all sit on the porch together. The string lights were on, and the air smelled like the first hint of spring. Amina sat on the swing across from us, her hands wrapped around a mug of tea she wasn’t drinking.
“I’ve been thinking about something for a long time,” she said. Her voice was steady, but there was a weight to it. “I know I’ve
