Jasmine opened her eyes before the rooster had even crowed.
For a moment, she lay still on the narrow wooden bed, just listening to the sounds of the early morning. A hush settled over their small farmhouse, as if it were holding a quiet secret. The air felt cool, and it smelled of a mixture of soil and sugarcane.
Jasmine glanced over her shoulder. Beside her was her daughter Dena, tucked under a worn floral sheet.
The child's breathing was gentle and calm, with one hand resting under her cheek. Even when she was sleeping, there was something about her face that struck Jasmine. Whenever the moonlight fell on her lashes, you could see it clearly. Her lashes caught your attention right away, and you could clearly see the shape of her eyes. They were wide and light brown, with a slight grayish ring around the edges.
Her father's eyes.
Jasmine took a deep sigh as she sat up on the bed and whispered, "Dena", as she tucked back a curl away from her face and kissed her forehead. "Wake up, my love, it's morning."
Dena let out a groan and flipped onto her other side, dragging the sheet up over her head. "Mama….noooo," she mumbled, her voice heavy with sleep.
Jasmine's lips curled into a small smile, even though her chest felt heavy. "Yes, little miss, you'd better get up. You know Grandma gets angry anytime we are late."
Then her tiny eye cautiously slipped out from under the floral sheet, looking hesitant at the same time suspicious.
"Come on," she said, her voice firmer this time."Up."
Dena let out a deep sigh that sounded bigger than you'd expect from a seven year old, then sat up. Her curls were spread out and wide, and her cheeks were warm and creased softly from sleep. She blinked slowly and looked away, like she was trying to hold back something. She finally opened her eyes.
Jasmine glanced at her daughter.
Clear.
lovely.
She's too much like him.
She turned her gaze away without a second thought.
By this time, the farm settlement was usually buzzing, with goats bleating and neighbors calling out to each other. People talking to one another over fences, while the weather is just perfect and in full bloom. The kitchen was filled with the pleasant smell of dumplings frying in a nearby pan and the sharp scent of bush tea boiling in the kettle.
"Let's go and greet grandma," she said.
"Morning, Grandma," she said quietly, her voice gentle and sweet.
Her grandmother stepped away from the stove, her hands dusted with flour.
"Well, look who's up," she said, smiling warmly. She bent down and kissed Dena's forehead. "Morning, my baby girl."
Dena wrapped her arms around her waist, then moved past her towards the wooden back. She shouted, "I'm going to see Grandpa!"
"Don't run! Jasmine called out to her daughter.
Outside, the sky was painted with soft streaks of pale gold and white clouds. The fields stretched endlessly, showing the rows of crops beautifully on the ground. In the farmyard, her grandfather was standing close to the tap. He was shifting the strap and washing soil off his hands.
"Grandpa!" Dena called.
He immediately turned around, and his serious expression eased up. "Ah, my little early bird," he said as he crouched down. She ran into his arms.
Jasmine stayed quiet for a bit, her eyes fixed on the dust slowly settling on the far-off dirt. Her father cleared his throat quietly and spoke calmly to his daughter.
"Go get her ready," he said without glancing her way, "School bell won't wait." Jasmine gave a small nod.
"Alright, little miss," she called out.
" It's time to wash up."
Dena let out a big groan but obeyed her mum and made her way to the outdoor basin.
Inside, Jasmine helped her daughter dress into her neatly pressed school uniform, a white shirt neatly tucked in and a navy blue skirt, with her socks neatly folded just above her ankle. She gathered her daughter's thick curls and tied them into two soft navy blue ribbons.
When she stepped back, her chest tightened once more. The resemblance was even clearer when Dena was dressed for school; there was just something that made it stand out.
Her posture and the slight lift of her chin.
"Hold still," Jasmine said softly, pretending to smooth out wrinkles from her shirt.
In the kitchen, her mother packed a lunch tin of fried dumplings and a slice of mango, carefully wrapped in foil.
"Eat all of it," Grandmother said firmly as she handed it over to Dena.
"Yes, Grandma," Dena said.
Outside, the school bus, an old yellow van used by kids from nearby farms, waited quietly for Dena. The driver honked twice when he got to the end of the lane.
Jasmine took her daughter by the hand as they made their way from the farmyard toward the roadside.
The van door creaked open, Dena climbed in, turned, waved, and blew her mother a kiss eagerly through the tinted window.
The school bus doors closed slowly with a tired wheeze.
Jasmine stood at the edge of the dusty road, raising her hand to wave to her daughter and smiling until her daughter's face disappeared behind the tinted glass. The bus pulled away in a hurry, its rattling frame disappearing as it turned the bend past the old mango tree.
The morning got unusually still.
A bit too quiet.
A soft breeze caught the edge of the jasmine dress, gently touching her legs. Her hand slowly lowered to her side. She kept staring at the empty road long after the bus had gone, as if something might return.
Or someone.
The engine sound fading away brought the memory back.
Another bus.
Another morning.
She was seventeen again, standing at the same roadside, only this time, with Daniel.
He held an envelope in his hand, gripping it so tightly that the paper had creased at the edges.
"I got it," he had whispered, his voice a mix of disbelief and excitement. "Full scholarship. Engineering. California."
California.
The word had sounded like another planet.
She remembered forcing a smile from her lips, but her heart swelled with pride and something sharper, fear!. She had gotten high scores, too, and had qualified for the national scholarship exam. Her teachers really liked her essays, her science projects, and her discipline.
Two weeks before the exams, she had woken before daybreak with a strange uneasiness in her chest and body. The nausea showed up softly at first, then insistently, then daily.
She stood frightened with her mother in the small local clinic downtown, staring at the nurse's sympathetic expression.
Pregnant.
The word had echoed louder in her ears than any school bell.
Back on the roadside, the present and past seemed to mix into one. Jasmine blinked hard, but her vision stayed blurry. The memories just kept coming.
She watched Daniel get on his bus, her eyes wet with tears and her mind filled with uncertainty about the future.
He had promised to call, to write, and to return.
"I'll make something for myself," he said, resting his forehead against hers. " For us." "For our child."
She had told him about the pregnancy, and it had caught him off guard, but he had accepted it anyway, reassuring her he would make it work.
The scholarship exam came and ended. She stayed home, one hand resting over her barely visible tummy, listening to the distant hum of opportunity and chances slipping past her.
Her mother had been crying, and her father had not eaten for days.
Daniel's messages got shorter over time, then came less often, then eventually ended.
A car jolted her back to the present.
Jasmine realized she was still standing by the roadside, all alone, and that the dust had settled around her.
The shadow of the mango tree stretched lightly across her feet.
A chill ran down Jasmine's spine, not from regret but from something deeper.
What if the scholarship boy who left with promises one morning decided to come back on the same road?
She turned home slowly, her heart pounding louder than usual.
Some journeys never really end.
They wait.