Breakfast lingered long after plates had emptied.
In the Njoroge house, meals rarely ended when food did; they softened instead into conversation, refilled cups, and the quiet reassurance of shared presence. Rosa cleared and replaced dishes in gentle cycles no one interrupted. David remained at the table, hands loosely folded around his mug, gaze returning to Hailey with intermittent, almost private satisfaction.
Daniel alone resisted stillness.
"So," he said, leaning back on two chair legs with habitual defiance of physics and maternal warnings, "we have confirmed you have returned permanently, secured a director role before breakfast, and destabilised the entire household. Efficient morning."
Rosa gave him a look. "Sit properly."
"I am properly seated."
"You are tilting."
"Strategically."
Hailey smiled into her tea.
David turned to her again. "You begin tomorrow."
"Yes."
"Kairo Holdings," he said slowly, testing the scale of it aloud. "That is a demanding environment."
"I expect it to be."
His eyes warmed. "You have always preferred demanding paths."
"That is because easy ones bore me," she said lightly.
Daniel dropped his chair legs to the floor. "This is true. She once reorganised the entire kitchen at sixteen because the spice arrangement lacked logic."
"It lacked categorisation," Hailey corrected.
"It lacked boredom," he said.
Rosa shook her head. "You were both exhausting children."
"Correction," Daniel said. "I was delightful."
"Debatable," Hailey said.
David rose then, collecting plates despite Rosa's protest. "I will assist."
"You will put them in the wrong place," she said.
"I will place them with confidence," he replied.
They moved kitchenward together — a choreography long practised — leaving the siblings alone at the table for the first time since her arrival.
The shift was immediate.
Daniel leaned forward, elbows on the table, doctor's observational gaze replacing brotherly teasing.
"Let me see you properly," he said.
"I'm sitting directly in front of you."
"Not visually. Clinically."
She rolled her eyes. "I am not your patient."
"Everything is my patient," he said mildly. "Occupational hazard."
He studied her face, the set of her shoulders, the faint shadows beneath her eyes. "You're thinner."
"Mama has already declared this."
"Mama says it emotionally. I say it diagnostically."
"I'm healthy."
"I didn't say you weren't." He paused. "But you're also tired in a way that isn't just travel."
Hailey held his gaze.
He had always seen more than others did — even before medicine sharpened that instinct.
"I worked hard," she said simply.
"I know." His tone softened. "Was leaving London relief or rupture?"
She considered. "Both."
He nodded once. "Then you've chosen correctly."
The certainty steadied something inside her. "You approve."
"I trust your judgement," he said. "Also, Nerua needs competent marketing leadership more than London does."
She laughed. "Patriotism disguised as analysis."
"Always."
They sat in companionable quiet a moment — the ease of siblings who required little performance with each other.
"You've changed," she said then, studying him in return. "More serious."
"I deal in human fragility daily."
"You always did."
"Now it has paperwork," he said dryly.
She reached across and squeezed his hand briefly. "I'm proud of you."
He blinked once — startled despite himself — then covered her hand with his other. "Good. I've been waiting thirty years."
"Twenty-seven."
"Medical years count extra."
Their smiles settled into something deeper.
After a moment she drew back. "I should go out later."
"To?"
"To find Clara."
His expression lit instantly. "She will combust."
"She nearly did via text this morning."
"Appropriate response," he said. "She has been your proxy family representative for years."
"I know."
"You'll stay out all evening," he predicted.
"Probably."
"Tell her I expect a full report."
"You can ask her yourself."
"I prefer filtered intelligence."
Rosa and David returned then, drying hands, domestic order restored.
"You are discussing secrets," Rosa observed.
"Always," Daniel said.
Hailey pushed back her chair. "I was saying I'll go and see Clara this afternoon."
Rosa's face brightened. "Yes. You must. She will not forgive delay."
David nodded. "Old bonds should be reaffirmed quickly."
Daniel grinned. "And warn her Nerua has regained its most dangerous social element."
Hailey lifted her brow. "Myself."
"Precisely."
Rosa touched her arm. "Take something with you. I baked yesterday."
"Mama, she has food."
"She still needs mine."
"That is also true," Daniel said.
Hailey laughed softly — the sound easing through rooms that had waited years to hear it again.
"I'll come back later," she said.
"You will," David replied with quiet certainty.
Because now she had not simply arrived.
She had resumed.
And next, she would step back into the one friendship that had never loosened across distance — the cousin who knew her before ambition, before departure, before reinvention.
Clara Wanjiku.
Waiting somewhere in Nerua, already furious with joy.