120. The Price of RunningNova

The hum of Nairobi traffic drifted faintly through my open bedroom window, but it couldn’t drown out the silence inside me. It had been ten days since New York. Ten days since I stood at the threshold of a future I had sworn I didn’t want, and fled like a frightened child.

I lay there on my bed in my Buruburu home, staring at the ceiling fan as it circled lazily above me. The doctor had said the panic attack was stress-induced. The triplets had cried. Oti had ...