Youssef began helping with family errands.
Nadia visited every weekend with her children.
None of them could undo the months when their father had been abandoned, but they were slowly learning that reconciliation required more than an apology spoken after the discovery of hidden wealth.
One afternoon, Malik found his father sitting beside the window with the old leather notebook resting on his lap.
“What are you writing, Father?”
Suleiman closed it.
“Nothing important.”
Malik smiled.
“You still don’t trust me with your secrets?”
“I trust you enough to know that a man should keep a few thoughts for himself.”
They laughed together.
Then Suleiman became serious.
“Malik, do you remember the question I asked you the night Idris came here?”
“Whether I would still have brought you home if I knew you had nothing?”
“Yes.”
Malik nodded.
“I meant my answer.”
“I know,” Suleiman said. “That is why I helped you.”
