Mama Grace sighed. “Ma, go.”
Ma carried the tray carefully, muttering, “If I break this plate, they will use me to replace it.”
She knocked.
“Come in.”
Ma entered slowly, then stopped.
Her eyes widened.
God.
The room was breathtaking.
White, gold, soft lighting, luxury everywhere.
Even the air looked expensive.
Anthony sat on his bed, laptop open, calm as ever.
Ma walked in carefully and placed the tray beside him.
“Your food, sir.”
Silence.
She turned to leave, paused, turned back, looked at the sofa, looked at him… then she sat down.
Anthony looked up slowly, confused, but said nothing.
Ma smiled.
“Sir, should I go?”
Silence.
She nodded. “Okay, I will stay small.”
Anthony blinked once.
She started.
“Sir, do you know that in my village, one goat nearly killed somebody because of an insult?”
Anthony picked up his spoon. “No.”
“Eh, it happened!”
She leaned forward dramatically.
“This goat—very wicked goat. Somebody insulted its mother.”
Anthony paused mid-bite. “The goat had a mother?”
Ma gasped. “Sir, every goat has a mother. How will it be born?”
Anthony almost smiled.
She continued, acting everything.
“The goat looked at her like this.”
She widened her eyes ridiculously.
Anthony lowered his spoon slightly.
“Then what?”
Ma lit up. “Ah, you are interested!”
She stood up halfway, acting the scene.
“The goat started chasing her. The woman ran. Her wrapper fell. The whole village gathered!”
Anthony’s shoulders shook slightly.
Ma clapped her hands. “Sir, I laughed until my destiny almost shifted.”
Anthony tried to stay serious but failed.
A soft laugh escaped him.
Ma froze dramatically.
She pointed at him. “You laughed!”
He cleared his throat quickly. “I didn’t.”
“You did. I heard it. Should I continue?”
He shook his head slightly.
Then Ma grinned like she had just signed a contract.
She talked and talked and talked.
Stories. Jokes. Village drama.
Her voice filled the room.
Warm. Alive. Different.
Anthony ate quietly.
But his mind was not on the food.
It was on her.
Her energy. Her light. Her freedom.
Something he had not felt in years.
Then slowly her voice began to fade.
Her words slowed.
Her head tilted.
And suddenly—silence.
Anthony looked up.
Ma had fallen asleep on his sofa just like that.
Mouth slightly open.
Peaceful.
Unbothered.
Anthony stared at her.
“Unbelievable.”
He stood up slowly and walked to her.
For a moment, he just looked.
Then he picked up a blanket and covered her gently—careful, soft, like she might break.
He stepped back, still watching her.
Something in his chest softened.
