Right as my son said “Mummy, let’s eat the bread!” I felt something twist in my chest. I told him “No”—firmly enough to scare him. Hours later, my friend returned the bread untouched… and what she confessed changed everything.

I didn’t know why.
Only that the answer came from somewhere deeper than logic.

That afternoon, Naza came by — loud, warm, always filling the room with energy.

“The bread is fine! Why are you overthinking?” she laughed.
She wasn’t being unkind.
Some people simply don’t understand the weight of a mother’s intuition.

So I handed it to her — just to avoid waste.
And as she walked away down the compound path, I felt something I couldn’t explain:
a little tug of uneasiness, like a thread pulled too tight.

The next morning, Naza knocked on my door, holding the bread in one hand and shaking her head.