In the hazy realm of dreams, a distant echo resounded. "Hello? Anyone? Mum? Asmaa?" The calls lingered in the ethereal void, seeking a connection that remained elusive.
A voice, soft and eerie, interjected, "Kamari, you are all alone. Nobody is here to help you." Defiance rose within, dispelling the solitude. "That's where you are wrong. I have my family, my friends," I countered, the dream weaving the bonds of connection.
Amid the dream's surreal landscape, a faint voice emerged. "Mari? Doctor, is she going to wake up?" The fragmented whispers blurred the lines between reality and the dream, a mirage of voices reaching through the subconscious.
My eyes fluttered open to the presence of my mom and friends surrounding me. "Kami!" Esi exclaimed. Confusion marked my awakening, and I questioned, "Guys, why are you here?"
Asmaa stepped forward, explaining, "The police said they found you running from something, and then you blacked out. So, they brought you to this hospital." The pieces of the puzzle started to align, but the gravity of what I had to share demanded a moment of privacy.
Seeking a moment alone with Asmaa, I asked the others to leave. "Okay," they replied in unison. Once alone, I shared my theory with Asmaa – a gut feeling that Esi's mom might be involved in the human trafficking ring.
Suddenly, Esi burst back into the room, announcing, "My mom is back in town. I gotta go meet her."
Curious, I asked, "Who's taking you since she took your car and everything?" Esi replied, "Tamru will drop me at home." As she prepared to leave, I halted her, saying, "Be safe, okay?" She questioned, "Why wouldn't I be safe?" I responded with a vague "Nothing." Esi waved goodbye and blew a kiss before departing.
Thank you, Tamru. I'll see you next week," I expressed my gratitude before bidding farewell and entering my parents' home, which was now my sister's. Mom inquired about Kamari's whereabouts, and I casually responded, "Oh, she's in the hospital." Her follow-up questions probed deeper into Kamari's condition, and I took a deep breath before explaining, "Her mom said it's a kidnapping-type situation."
"Oh really?" Mom's tone carried a mix of surprise and concern, prompting me to share more details about the unsettling events surrounding Kamari. As I recounted the information, I couldn't help but feel the weight of the situation settling in.
"Mom, why are you suddenly so interested in Kamari? You've never cared about her until now," I remarked, a hint of skepticism in my voice. My mom, unfazed by my question, smiled and responded, "I've always loved her; she was vibrant." Her words caught me off guard, realizing there might be more to their connection than I had previously thought.
In a surprising turn, my mom suggested, "You know what, invite her to dinner next week." The offer, laden with an unexpected warmth, left me wondering about the layers of relationships and connections that existed beneath the surface, waiting to be uncovered.
"Alright, Mom. I'll tell her when I go to the hospital tomorrow. She won't get released until Sunday," I conveyed, accepting the invitation and contemplating the significance of this newfound interest in Kamari. As I prepared for the upcoming visit, a sense of anticipation mingled with the underlying mysteries surrounding Kamari's situation. The dinner invitation became a bridge between the complexities of our past and the uncertain future that lay ahead.