Beatrice sat at a well-decorated dinner table in their dining room, carefully slicing into a piece of chocolate cake as two of Sally's old friends laughed at a shared memory from years ago.
Her smile was polite, but her mind was elsewhere.
It had been weeks since she started her quiet investigation. She hadn't dared confront Sally directly, but she'd taken a more subtle route—inviting his close friends over for casual dinner parties and dessert nights. To everyone else, it seemed like a social gesture, a revival of warmth in their home. But Beatrice had one mission: to find Angela.
She poured coffee into their cups and leaned forward, feigning interest.
"So, do you two know any of Sally's close female colleagues named Angela? A nurse, maybe?"
Both men shook their heads.
"No, not that I can recall," said Martin. "He mostly deals with people in the hotel and business circles."
"And nurses?" Beatrice added with forced lightness.
Martin laughed. "Unless someone got sick and I missed it."
The answer frustrated her. Nothing. Again.
But she smiled and nodded like it didn't matter. Inside, she was growing impatient. If Sally was hiding this woman—and something about her—it was taking too long to uncover. Even calling in favors with old girlfriends and distant cousins hadn't helped. Everyone claimed ignorance. Kampala was just too vast. Uganda too big. And "Angela" too common.
Each dead end only made her obsession stronger.
---
That weekend, while Beatrice planned her next dinner invite, Sally was on the road—on a mission of love.
He had spent the morning carefully packing for Zaria's weekend visit at school. It wasn't her visiting day yet, but he had special permission to bring her some necessities. She had been in boarding for over a month now, and he missed seeing her face light up when he came around.
He packed the items neatly in a box: a 5-litre bottle of mango juice, two boxes of biscuits, a loaf of sliced bread, a big tin of Lato milk, a kilo of sugar, and two tins of flavored chocolate and vanilla. And most specially, a warm foil-wrapped bundle of homemade daddies that Nurse Angela had prepared that morning, just for Zaria.
"You've spoiled her already," Angela said as she handed the daddies to Sally.
"She deserves it," Sally replied. "That girl has been through too much pain for a child her age."
Angela smiled. "She's healing well. And she talks about you all the time."
Sally loaded everything into his car and set off for the school.
---
At the school compound, Zaria was helping sweep the dorm veranda when she heard someone call her name.
"Zaria!"
She turned, and her face lit up. "Uncle Sally!"
Sally smiled as she walked briskly toward him, arms stretched. Though they couldn't hug openly in front of everyone, her joy said it all.
"I brought you a few things," he said, leading her to the car.
Her eyes widened at the sight of the packages.
"All this is for me?" she asked, overwhelmed.
"Yes. And these are from Angela too. She made your favorite—daddies."
Zaria opened the foil, the warm scent making her close her eyes in delight.
"Wow… thank you, thank you so much!"
They sat under a shaded tree near the school gate, chatting freely.
"How is school treating you?" Sally asked.
Zaria nodded excitedly. "I love it. The teachers are kind. I've made a friend. Her name is Charity. And I'm learning so much. It's… peaceful."
Sally smiled at her maturity. "And the books?"
"I borrow from the library sometimes. But I want a few extra ones… English readers, math, Chemistry and Biology workbooks."
"I'll get them," Sally said immediately. "If you need anything, you tell me. Always."
Zaria's eyes softened.
"You know… I've always wanted someone to say that to me."
There was a pause. A quiet moment where the wind seemed to hush just for them.
Then Sally looked at her, gently.
"Zaria," he said, "from today, I don't want you to call me 'Uncle Sally' or 'Mr. Sally.' Just call me Father."
Zaria gasped.
"Really?"
"Yes," he smiled. "You are mine now. You've always been. I may not be your birth father, but I'll be the one who walks with you."
She jumped up and hugged him tightly, her eyes full of tears.
"Thank you, Father," she whispered.
When it was time to leave, Zaria waved at him with a glow on her face. It was the happiest she had looked in months.
---
After Sally drove off, Charity came running toward her.
"Was that your real father?" she asked with excitement.
Zaria smiled shyly. "Yes."
Charity looked at the bag of goodies. "Wow! He brought all that for you? He really loves you."
Zaria nodded, her heart swelling. "I think so too."
Charity took one of the biscuits and said playfully, "Well, he's my father now too—sharing is caring!"
Zaria laughed. For the first time, she felt like she truly belonged—not just at school, but in someone's heart.
---
Back in Kampala, Beatrice stared at her notebook, now filled with scribbles, arrows, and crossed-out names. She tossed it on the bed in frustration.
Still nothing.
She had tried every friend, every relative, every contact. She had even gone as far as asking Sally's assistant at the hotel under the guise of organizing a surprise party.
But Angela remained a ghost.
And Zaria… a name that haunted her thoughts from time to time, like a shadow she had tried to run from for years.
If only she knew just how close those two names were—how deeply connected her past and her present had become.