“Everyone okay?” Rafiq called, his voice softer than the sun. He handed a mango back to the girl, who examined the bruise it had earned with solemn curiosity. Amina laughed, a small bright sound that seemed to shade the moment into something gentle. Someone found a bucket; someone else produced a cloth. They turned the mishap into movement—mopping water, gathering fruit, trading remarks.
“Everyone okay?” Rafiq called, his voice softer than the sun. He handed a mango back to the girl, who examined the bruise it had earned with solemn curiosity. Amina laughed, a small bright sound that seemed to shade the moment into something gentle. Someone found a bucket; someone else produced a cloth. They turned the mishap into movement—mopping water, gathering fruit, trading remarks.