The weekend Amina came home alone arrived under a sky that had finally cleared. The rain that had lingered for weeks gave way to crisp, bright autumn air, and the leaves on Maple Lane glowed in shades of amber and scarlet. Elias and I had spent the days leading up to it preparing — not just the house, but ourselves. We had practiced what we wanted to say, rewritten notes, and reminded each other that this conversation wasn’t about perfection. It was about honesty.
Amina’s train arrived on time. She texted when she was ten minutes away, and we waited on the porch, hands linked, hearts beating faster than either of us wanted to admit. When her car pulled into the driveway, she stepped out alone, bag over her shoulder, and offered a small, cautious smile.
“Hey,” she said, walking up the ste
