Only Malik, the youngest son, brought him home.
“We can’t leave him alone,” Malik told Amina the day he arrived carrying his father’s small bag of clothes.
Amina had agreed, though fear quietly settled inside her heart.
At first, Baba Suleiman barely spoke. He spent most of his days sitting near the window, staring outside for hours. Sometimes he whispered apologies nobody understood.
But slowly, strange things began happening inside the house.
Money disappeared from kitchen drawers.
Amina’s gold bracelet vanished.
The landlord complained that someone had shouted insults at neighbors late at night.
Every time something happened, suspicion fell on the old man.
“He’s becoming difficult,” Amina whispered to Malik one evening. “Maybe age is affecting his mind.”
Malik stayed silent.
Deep inside, he feared she might be right.
Weeks later, Amina woke before sunrise and walked quietly toward the kitchen. That was when she froze.
Baba Suleiman was kneeling beside the refrigerator, searching through a plastic bag filled with old receipts and documents. His hands trembled violently.
“What are you doing?” she demanded sharply.
The old man looked up in panic.
“I… I was looking for something.”
“For what?”
But he didn’t answer.
From that day, Amina’s discomfort turned into resentment.
