A creak from the doorway drew Bette’s gaze. Augustine stood there, wrapped in her familiar shawl, her knowing eyes soft but sharp. She stepped inside, moving gingerly on her arthritic hips. Her soft-shoed slippers only making the subtlest of shuffle on the linoleum floor.

“Habari za asubuhi,” Augustine greeted her, “You’re up early,” the old nanny observed, moving toward the stove, her movements unhurried but sure. She found the old-fashioned kettle already boiled, the metal still humming faintly with leftover heat. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, a quiet gratitude for this small, thoughtful gesture. She lifted the kettle, its weight familiar in her hand, and poured the steaming water over a waiting teabag nestled in her favourite, slightly chipped mug. The fragrant steam rose, curling around her lined face as she set the kettle back down, wrapping both hands around the mug and drawing the warmth into her bones. She stood there for a moment, letting the quiet scene settle around her like an old, comforting blanket.

“Shikamoo,” Bette responded showing her elder respect, “She woke up early.” Bette smiled meekly.

Augustine hummed, settling into the chair opposite her. She watched the young mother for a moment before speaking again. “And you, my child? Did you sleep?”

Bette exhaled, shifting Angelica slightly in her arms. “Some.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either.

Augustine reached for a cup on one of the shelves, her wise eyes never leaving Bette’s face. “Your heart is heavy.”

Bette didn’t answer right away. Instead, she focused on Angelica, brushing a gentle finger over her daughter’s tiny hand. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet. “I just want to do right by her. By Tina. By all of this.”

Augustine nodded knowingly. “You carry the weight of the world, Bette. But you must remember, no one can walk with one foot in two places.”

Bette looked up, brow furrowing. “What if I don’t have a choice?”

Augustine reached across the table, resting a warm, steady hand over Bette’s. “There is always a choice, child. The question is, are you willing to see it?”

Augustine’s habitual metaphors were never lost on Bette, she was juggling too many things at once; her responsibilities as a mother, her relationship with Tina, and her dangerous work protecting wildlife. No one else knew that better than herself, she was stretching herself thin, attempting to be fully present in all areas of her life, but in doing so, she was risking failing in all of them.