The small living room in Tina's village home was alive with a rare joy. Her old granny, seated on her favorite maroon chair, contentedly chewed miraa, her toothless mouth working slowly. Tina had just received the call—a media company in the city, her dream job. Her parents couldn't hide their elation; her mother jumped around as if she'd won an Olympic medal. Tina, the village's only graduate, possessed a beauty that turned heads, though her quiet, studious nature meant most villagers barely knew her. Her father beamed, his pride finally restored after the shame of his son Roba's imprisonment.

That evening, as her mother helped her pack, a heavy conversation pulled Tina aside. Her father, his health deteriorating, confessed his secret—a terminal illness, six months to live. The news shattered her joy, replacing it with an unbearable weight. She remembered his strength, his love, the way he carried her on his shoulders as a child. That night, sleep evaded her. She found herself in the kitchen, confronted by the broken coffee maker and empty gas cylinder, symbols of her family's struggles. She vowed to work harder, to make things right. As dawn broke, she left her village, carrying the weight of her family's hopes and the unspoken burden of her father's secret, heading towards a new, uncertain life in the city.