He called in relatives as if turning pain into a public announcement would make it more righteous. Uncle Sorie arrived with a slow frown. Auntie Binta came with her hand already hovering near her chest like she expected a good scandal to be heavy.
“Tell them,” Lamin said.
Isatu said it. She said she was pregnant. She did not say Bakari Té’s name, because she still believed, foolishly and fiercely, that if she protected the boy then maybe the world would protect her back. She was wrong. The punishment always knew where to land.
When she stayed silent, Lamin’s gaze hardened into something that didn’t feel human. It felt like a lock.
“Then you have chosen,” he said.
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