“Perhaps your father should move in with one of your brothers. They have bigger houses than we do. Why must we be the ones to suffer?”
Malik looked toward the small room where his father slept.
“Because they refused him.”
“And that makes us responsible for sacrificing everything?”
Malik’s face tightened.
“He is my father.”
“And I am your wife!”
The argument continued until Sami began crying in his bedroom.
Malik walked away without answering.
Amina remained at the table, shaking with frustration.
From the corner of the room, Baba Suleiman had heard every word.
He waited until the apartment was quiet.
Then he went into his room, opened his old travel bag, and removed a small notebook with a cracked leather cover.
He turned to the last page.
Several names were written there, alongside dates, amounts, and short notes.
Beside Malik’s name was a sentence written in careful handwriting:
