Amina's father was still lying down on the bed, resting heavily against the thin mat that had been placed beneath him for comfort. His breath rose and fell slowly, and although he had survived the frightening ordeal of the previous day, his body had not yet recovered. Every now and then, a small tremor ran through his legs or arms, tiny strains that reminded everyone in the house that he was far from healed. His face looked tired and pale, and his eyelids fluttered weakly as though even opening them required strength he no longer had.

His wife sat beside him quietly, her worry written on every line of her face. She dipped a small cloth into a bowl of cool water, wrung it out gently, and placed it on his forehead. She watched him with the kind of careful attention only a wife who deeply feared for her husband's life could show. Every time he shifted or let out a soft groan of pain, she leaned closer, hoping it wasn't something worse. The room was silent except for the soft movements of her hand and the uneven sound of his breathing.

Although the day had only just begun, she was already exhausted. She had barely slept through the night, checking on him over and over again, adjusting his blankets, making sure his wounds had not opened, and whispering quiet prayers that he would heal soon. She tried to stay strong, but her heart was full of fear - fear for him, fear for herself, and fear for Amina, who had already been faced with danger once.

Just then, Amina woke up in the small room she shared with her parents. She rubbed her eyes and stretched slowly, then stood up and walked toward the corner where her clothes were neatly folded. As she adjusted her wrapper, she turned and saw her father on the bed. Immediately, her face softened, and her curiosity about the new day changed into concern.

Without waiting to finish dressing, she went straight to him. She approached quietly, afraid of disturbing him, and bent down beside the bed.

"Good morning, Dad," she said softly, her voice filled with tenderness. She touched his hand lightly.

Her father opened his eyes slowly and managed a faint smile. Even speaking seemed difficult for him, but the way his eyes brightened slightly showed how happy he was to hear her voice.

Amina looked up and saw her mother watching both of them. She straightened and said, "Good morning, Mom."

Her mother smiled gently back. "Good morning, my dear. How did you sleep?"

"I slept well," Amina replied, though she still looked worriedly at her father.

Her mother studied her for a moment, then asked, "So... what are you going to do today?"

Amina hesitated for a second before answering, "I want to go out for a walk with my friend."

Her mother lifted her eyebrow slightly. "Which of your friends? Is it Jessica?"

Amina shook her head. "No, it's Miriam."

"Oh... Miriam," her mother said, nodding in understanding. "Alright." She paused, then added more seriously, "But be careful, Amina. You know your father is not yet strong. Things have been difficult lately, and we don't want anything happening to you. Please be very cautious. Watch the places you go. Pay attention to the corners you pass."

Amina nodded politely. "Alright, Mom. I'll be careful."

She then turned back toward her father and leaned closer again. "Dad, recover soon. I love you. Just take care, okay? I'll come back later. I just want to go and meet my friend Miriam. She said I should come over today."

Her father tried to speak, but only a soft sound came out at first. He took a slow breath and finally whispered, "Be careful... my daughter." Even though his voice was weak, his concern for her was clear. He squeezed her hand very gently before letting it go.

Amina rose to her feet, tied her wrapper properly, and picked out one of her neatest sheets of clothing. After adjusting it over her shoulder, she stepped outside the room and walked toward the door.

When the door closed behind her, the house fell into a heavier silence. Her father stared at the doorway long after she had gone. Finally, he turned to his wife and sighed.

"I don't know what's wrong with Amina," he murmured. "She just loves walking around with her friends so much... even now, when everything seems dangerous." He shook his head slowly, careful not to strain his neck. "But it's fine. As you said already, let her go - but let her be careful. I'm sure nothing will happen to her."

His wife nodded, though her eyes did not hide her worry. "I just pray that nothing goes wrong," she said quietly.

---

Amina walked down the familiar path leading toward Miriam's compound. The morning sun warmed her skin, and the gentle breeze brushed against her cheeks. Birds perched on distant branches chirped pleasantly, and the sounds of villagers beginning their daily tasks echoed around her - sweeping, greeting one another, gathering water.

Even though she tried to enjoy the peaceful morning, her mind still drifted to her father and how weak he had been when she left him. She hoped he would be much better by the time she returned. She also thought about her mother's warning and quietly promised herself she would avoid any strange paths or places that felt dangerous.

After a few more minutes of walking, she arrived at Miriam's compound. She expected to see her friend playing, sweeping, or sitting outside the house, but the courtyard was empty. The wooden door was half open, and a bowl lay upside-down on the ground near the entrance.

Amina stepped inside, looking around curiously.

Miriam was not there.

Instead, Miriam's parents were sitting outside on a low bench, peeling vegetables for cooking. They were both calm, focused on their work, and didn't seem worried at all about their daughter being out.

Amina greeted them politely. "Good morning, Ma. Good morning, Sir."

Miriam's mother looked up with a warm smile. "Good morning, Amina. You're welcome."

Her father also nodded in greeting.

Amina walked closer and sat down near them. She placed her hands neatly on her lap, looked around the compound again, and then asked, "Is Miriam inside?"

Miriam's mother shook her head gently. "No, she isn't around at the moment, my dear."

"Oh..." Amina replied quietly. "Where did she go?"

"I sent her on an errand earlier," Miriam's mother explained. "But she will be back very soon. You can sit and wait for her if you want."

Amina nodded. "Okay, Ma. I will wait."

She sat comfortably on the small wooden stool near them, watching as Miriam's father peeled yams with slow, steady movements. The rhythmic scrape of the knife against the yam skin was oddly calming. The air smelled of fresh vegetables, clean earth, and morning breeze.

For a moment, Amina forgot her worries.

Miriam's mother paused her work and looked at Amina kindly. "Do you need anything? Water? Food? Or something to drink?"

Amina shook her head gently. "No, Ma. I'm okay. Thank you."

She sat quietly for a while, listening to the soft sounds of the compound - the water splashing as Miriam's mother rinsed vegetables, the scraping of the knife on the yam, the distant chatter of villagers outside the compound wall. Everything felt peaceful, almost too peaceful, compared to the fear and tension that had filled her home.

Amina took a deep breath and folded her hands more tightly. She continued waiting silently, hoping Miriam would return soon so they could spend time together as planned.