That day passed like every other.
Sarah returned under the bridge.
She ate garri soaked with tears.
And Agu returned to his mansion and lay awake at 2 a.m. wondering again:
Is my mother truly gone?
Little did either of them know, destiny was already shifting the wind.
Their paths, a world apart, were slowly turning, aligning, and moving toward a collision that would rewrite everything.
Sarah woke before dawn.
But something was different.
Her bones did not just ache—they burned. A strange heat crawled through her chest, and her breath came in shallow gasps. She reached for her wrapper and wiped her forehead. It was soaked with sweat. Her tongue felt like sandpaper. Her lips were cracked. Her throat was dry as harmattan wind.
She tried to sit up beneath the bridge, but her head spun and the world blurred for a moment.
Still, she forced herself up.
“I have to hawk today,” she muttered. “No money, no food.”
She reached for her wheelbarrow.
It was empty.
She had sold her last banana the previous afternoon. There was nothing left.
She limped toward the edge of the bridge, her joints trembling beneath her. The street lights still flickered above like tired sentinels. Smoke from roasted corn drifted up from a nearby gutter, mixing with the sharp smell of urine and petrol.
She ignored it.
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