He smooths my hair back. Kisses my forehead.
Soft.
“I’m taking you to Hala Mira,” he says.
That makes me feel a little better. I like my aunt. She makes sweet bread.
“But Mama—” I say.
He holds me tighter.
“I’ll take care of everything,” he says. “I’ll come get you soon.”
I nod because he’s Baba.
Because he says it like it’s true.
But I don’t stop looking at Mama until the door closes behind us.
***
Two weeks later
New clothes.
A hairbrush with pearls on the handle.
White walls.
Big windows and too many mirrors.
Baba kneels in front of me and says, “This is your home now, Tavsan .”
I nod, clutching my stuffed bunny tighter. I don’t ask if Mama is coming.
I already know.
He takes my hand and leads me through the halls. They smell like lemon soap and something old. At the top of the stairs, a man watches us. His eyes are dark. His jaw clenches when he sees me.
Baba smiles. “This is Gabriel, your brother.”
I step forward, small.
“Hi,” I say.
He doesn’t answer.
Instead he says something sharp to in Baba’s language and walks off.
Baba exhales.
“Let me take you back to your room, you can play until supper.”
Chapter 3
Ayla
13 years old
