It was a clear day in Zimbabwe. Mark was just coming back from school, still in his uniform, casually strolling home with his bag slung over his shoulder.
When he arrived, he was surprised to see something unusual — his mother, who was always busy working double shifts as a nurse, and his little sister, Mary, who was normally out with her friends, were both at home… and cooking. A lot.
The table was filled with food.
> "Hey guys... is there some special occasion I forgot about?" Mark asked, dropping his bag on the couch.
> "Go take a shower and change out of your uniform," his mom said with a warm smile. "I'll tell you when you come back."
Mark nodded, smiling back. He headed to his room, took off his uniform — revealing his slim, scrawny frame — then entered the bathroom.
Fifteen minutes later, steam trailed behind him as he stepped out, towel over his shoulders. He glanced at the mirror, stared at his reflection — soft but sharp facial features, dark circles under his eyes, short, brushed black hair. He ran a comb through it quickly, brushed his teeth, and changed into casual clothes.
When he returned to the dining room, the food was already set. He sat down at the table with his mom and Mary.
> "Close your eyes, let's pray," their mom said gently.
They all obeyed.
> "Lord, thank you for this food, thank you for this day, and thank you for this family. May you continue to guide us, just as you have today. Amen."
"Amen," the two siblings echoed.
As they dug into the food, Mark looked up.
"So… what's the special occasion?"
"Yeah, mom, what's up?" Mary chimed in.
Their mom smiled brightly — that kind of proud smile that gave everything away.
"Well kids… as you know, I've been a senior nurse for a while now. And nurses at that level can be offered doctor positions in some countries."
Mark's eyes widened.
"Wait… don't tell me—"
"Yes," she nodded. "I've been offered a doctor position."
"Really?! Where?" Mary asked, nearly knocking over her cup in excitement.
"Brookhaven. In the U.S."
"WHAAAAT?! That's amazing!" Mark said, stunned.
"Bro," Mary gasped dramatically, "this isn't just amazing — it's fantastic. We're going to America!"
Mark chuckled.
"Really? What about your friends?"
Mary waved him off smugly.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk… foolish older brother. We live in modern times. Ever heard of FaceChat?"
"Yeah, yeah, you brat," Mark muttered, rolling his eyes.
"So mom, when are we going?" Mary asked, ignoring him completely.
"This Saturday."
"That's just two days away!" Mary cheered. "Let's goooo!"
Two days passed in a flash.
Mary spent her last day in Zimbabwe saying goodbye to her friends — laughing, hugging, even taking a few selfies with people she didn't know she'd miss until now.
Mark didn't do much. He had no one to say goodbye to. No friends, no attachments.
Just him, his thoughts, and the quiet hum of anticipation.
The morning of departure finally arrived.
The family stepped out, dressed to impress.
Their mother wore a flowing royal blue dress and heels. Her black braids were tied neatly into a ponytail, her smile warm but determined.
> "Okay, kids. Are you ready to go?" she asked, adjusting her purse.
> "I'm more than ready," Mary grinned. She had on tight jeans that hugged her curves, a long-sleeve crop top, and fresh white sneakers. Her short hair was styled into a fashionable, messy look — casual but confident.
> "Yeah," Mark replied with a calm nod. He wore a black minimalist hoodie, black cargo pants, and sleek Bottega sneakers. Understated. Clean. Quietly stylish.
> "Alright then," their mother said. "Let's go."
They arrived at the airport and boarded an economy flight.
The two-hour journey went by quickly.
Mark spent most of it playing a game on his phone.
His mother slept peacefully beside him.
Mary? She was already posting "New Life Begins 🇺🇸" on her Instagram story.
When they landed, a woman stood near the baggage claim holding a sign that read "The Wilsons."
She was dressed professionally in a blazer, slacks, and flats.
> "Hello, miss. It's a pleasure to meet you," she greeted politely. "Please follow me."
They followed her outside to a sleek black taxi.
> "My name is Sara," she said once they were inside. "I'll be helping you get settled in Brookhaven."
Mark's mother nodded and started chatting with her, asking about her new job.
Mary stared out the window, her eyes wide as they passed skyscrapers and blinking neon signs.
Mark stayed silent, watching everything.
The taxi kept driving. And as the minutes passed... the scenery changed.
Tall buildings gave way to cracked sidewalks.
Neon signs became flickering street lamps.
Luxury turned to graffiti, trash bags, and broken fences.
They passed a rusted metal sign:
> "Welcome to Downtown Brookhaven."
The taxi stopped.
Sara stepped out and motioned for them to follow her. They walked down the street, their footsteps echoing through the alleyways. Mark noticed beggars huddled on corners, teens puffing smoke into the air, and thugs glaring at them from cracked stoops.
The air felt heavier here.
Eventually, they arrived at a worn-down house — still standing, but weathered. The paint was faded, the porch light hung crooked, and the fence creaked when touched.
> "Doctor Wilson, this is the house the hospital has assigned you," Sara said, smiling politely. "You can start work tomorrow."
Mary stared at the house, mouth slightly open.
> "Wait… we're living here? It looks terrible."
> "Don't be such a baby," Mark replied calmly. "Our house in Zim was the same."
> "Yeah, in Zimbabwe," Mary snapped. "But this is America."
The two siblings walked into the house, still bickering playfully.
Their mother simply smiled, holding the keys and watching them disappear inside.
The Wilsons stepped into their new home.
Dust hung in the air like fog, and the wooden floor creaked beneath their shoes.
Several windows were cracked, and cobwebs clung to corners like hidden tenants.
But despite its rundown appearance, the house had promise — it even had a staircase leading to an upstairs floor.
Mark covered his mouth with his elbow.
> "Damn, it's dusty in here," Mary coughed, waving a hand in front of her face.
> "Mary! Language," their mother scolded gently, holding a handkerchief over her mouth.
> "Sorry, Mom… but like—look at this place."
> "Yes, it's dusty," their mother replied, walking in and inspecting the space. "But there's nothing a little cleaning can't fix."
> "Ughhh, but I hate cleaning," Mary groaned.
> "Well," Mark said calmly, glancing at her, "decide what you hate more: cleaning or living in a dust-infested house."
Mary shot him a playful glare, her grin borderline evil.
> "Why you—"
Mark smirked in response.
> "Your brother's right though," their mother said with a raised brow. "So… what's it gonna be?"
Mary let out a deep sigh and slumped her shoulders.
> "Fine. Let's get this over with."
And so, the Wilsons got to work.
Two hours of sweeping, wiping, scrubbing, and rearranging later — they finally dropped to the floor, exhausted and sweaty.
Mark had taken off his hoodie, revealing a plain white t-shirt. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm orange hue over the freshly cleaned space.
> "Ugh, that was way too much work," Mary muttered, fanning herself with a magazine.
> "Yeah," their mother said, smiling as she motioned around. "But now the house is clean."
It wasn't perfect, but it felt livable.
Safer.
Home.
> "By the way, kids… we need to talk about your enrollments."
Mark and Mary looked up.
> "Once you're enrolled," she continued, "you'll officially be in high school. Mark… I hope you can make friends this time around."
She ruffled his hair gently.
> "Okay, Mom… I get it," Mark said, chuckling.
> "And you, Mary," she added, turning to her daughter, "try not to cause trouble at this new school."
> "I won't, Mom," Mary replied — not even trying to sound convincing.
Their mother gave them a knowing look, then stood.
> "Good. Now head to your rooms. We've got a big day tomorrow."
The family split off for the night, climbing the stairs one by one.
As Mark stepped into his new room and closed the door behind him, he exhaled slowly.
Tomorrow…
Brookhaven would start to show its true colors.