The morning arrived earlier than usual, heralded not by sunlight but by the sound of the doorbell.
Luna was still in her sleep clothes, Jennifer nestled against her shoulder, when she peered through the peephole and saw Abishola standing in the hallway with two large bags and the kind of determined posture that suggested she had not come for a short visit. Behind her, Jason carried a third bag, his expression calm and resigned, the look of a man who had learned not to question his wife when she set her mind to something.
Luna opened the door, and Abishola stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, her eyes immediately scanning the apartment with the practiced assessment of someone who had raised four children and knew exactly what a household needed.
"Good morning, Luna," Abishola said, setting her bags down with a soft thud. "I hope you slept well."
"I did, Ma. Thank you."
