Outside, the morning had opened wide. Women were sweeping the paths. Children were laughing near the kitchen. New residents were hanging laundry in the sunlight. Mama Ifeoma stood near the new wing, watching Enkiru with quiet understanding.
“Well?” Mama asked.
Enkiru looked at the building, the women, the land, the life that had grown from what was meant to destroy her.
Then she smiled.
“It’s over.”
Mama nodded.
“Good. Then start the rest.”
And Enkiru did.
Five years earlier, she had been left on a road like something disposable.
Now she had become a road for others.
She never forgot what happened. But memory no longer stood behind her with a knife. It walked beside her with purpose.
