The engine rumbled low as the truck crawled forward, the suspension creaking under the weight of people, gear, and whatever hope they still had packed in the back.
Dust kicked up in hazy clouds behind them, the road ahead a thread of cracked pavement winding through the dead hush of morning.
Inside, it was cramped and restless—kids leaning against windows, bags jostling with every bump, silence pressing down like another passenger.
Zara shifted, cradling Leo against her side. His fingers clutched her sleeve with soft, sticky desperation.
"Mommy…" he mumbled, face buried in her shirt. "My tummy hurts."
She exhaled through her nose. Not frustration. Not quite. Just… the tight ache of knowing she couldn't fix this with hugs or lullabies anymore. Her baby was hungry. Again. Still.
"I know, sweetheart," she whispered, brushing his hair back. "Just a minute."
