Chapter 38: The Soldier Returns
Her uncle, recently returned from Libya, was not a loud man. War had carved silence into him. His steps were heavy, his face weathered, and his voice came like a breeze—gentle, but with weight.
At first, he moved around the compound like a stranger returning to a story that had gone on without him. But as the days passed, he began to watch the small details.
He noticed how Mary always waited until everyone else had eaten before she approached the pot. He noticed how her school uniform hung loose from her small frame, and how her slippers had holes at the bottom. He noticed how she never laughed. How she folded her hands tightly in her lap when adults entered the room.
And he remembered her.
The little girl he had once seen playing outside years ago—full of life, bright-eyed, always helping. Now, that light was hidden.
One day, he asked her quietly, "Mary, are you okay?"
She nodded. A lie, simple and practiced.
But soldiers are trained to see beyond words. He didn't press further. Instead, he began to do something unusual: he started showing up for her.
When he left for work, he would call her aside and place money in her palm.
"Buy food at school," he'd say. "Eat well. Don't wait."
Sometimes, he would show her where he hid extra money in the house—in a tin, tucked beneath a wooden ladder, buried lightly in the sand. "In case I travel again. Only you know."
He began paying her school fees himself. Quietly. No announcements. No arguments. He simply did what he knew had to be done.
Then came the day he came back from town holding a black plastic bag. Inside: two brand new dresses, a pair of sandals, and exercise books.
He handed them to Mary and said, "This is for you."
She looked at him, stunned, barely able to speak. No one had ever bought her clothes without a warning or a reason to repay it with labor.
He never asked her to explain what had happened before. But with each small gesture, Mary began to feel something foreign grow in her again—
Belonging.
Her aunt said little, perhaps uneasy about his attention toward the girl she'd mistreated. But she didn't stop him. She couldn't.
Because this time, Mary had someone who saw her worth…
...and quietly began to protect it.