Òyì nke e mepụtara

I didn’t sleep that night. How could I. Every page I turned, every letter I read, it all pointed to one thing—a truth that had been buried for years. My grandmother had known everything. She had documented it, protected it, and left it for me like a final act of love. By morning, I wasn’t the same …

I didn’t sleep that night. How could I. Every page I turned, every letter I read, it all pointed to one thing—a truth that had been buried for years. My grandmother had known everything. She had documented it, protected it, and left it for me like a final act of love. By morning, I wasn’t the same person who had walked out of that dining room. I wasn’t confused anymore. I wasn’t doubting myself. I wasn’t trying to earn anything from people who had already decided I didn’t belong. I packed my thi