The airport buzzed with announcements, rolling suitcases, and polished shoes rushing past. But in one quiet corner beside a large window overlooking the tarmac, a Black woman lay curled against the wall, two tiny bodies pressed into her side under a pale blanket.
Her name was Amira.
Her eyes were shut, not from peaceful sleep, but from pure exhaustion. She hadn’t rested in nearly two days. Her stomach ached with hunger, and her throat was parched. The twins—six-year-old Io and Benny—breathed softly against her chest, bundled tightly in the only warmth they had. Their knitted hats were unraveling at the edges, their socks mismatched.
But they didn’t complain. They never did. Amira’s heart broke every time she looked at them. They were hers by choice, not by birth. Born into chaos and abandoned in a Nairobi alley, the infants had been barely a week old when…..Read Full Story Here.……………….
