Some were happy, and some were sad.
But for a time, it didn't matter.
Because those two pregnancies those two miracles seemed to bind the whole village together again.
People called it a blessing from the heavens.
They said the gods of the land had forgiven Fernstead, that the rains and crops would prosper, and that the spirits of the mountains smiled again.
For once, everyone believed it.
Everyone wanted to.
The Village Reawakens
Soon, the village was alive again.
The sound of hammers, the laughter of children, the smell of roasted fish near the marketplace everything returned, brighter than before.
Men carried sacks of rice down to the stream where merchants came from the city.
Women sang while cleaning the grains, talking about baby names and how both Elisha and Clara were glowing.
Evening after evening, people came to our home to bring gifts baskets of yam, jars of milk, pieces of cloth.
Mother smiled again, though her eyes sometimes looked far away.
Father worked harder than before, helping everyone, trying to prove he was a changed man.
And Clara she always came with a quiet smile, holding my mother's hand as if they were two sisters who had shared a wound but learned to heal from it.
The two women became symbols of peace.
The villagers said,
"If Elisha and Clara can forgive, then who are we to hold grudges?"
And so, Fernstead became whole again.
Inside My Quiet World
But inside me, nothing felt the same.
I didn't speak much anymore.
When the other children ran through the fields or laughed at the well, I stayed behind the house, shaping pieces of wood into tiny figures.
Each toy had meaning.
A small one with long hair that was my mother.
Another with a hat my father.
And one tiny, fragile figure I kept closest to me.
That was my baby sister.
I didn't know her yet, but in my heart, I could already see her smiling.
Sometimes I would whisper to myself,
"Maybe it's a girl… maybe it's a boy."
And then I'd shake my head and laugh softly.
It didn't matter.
Either way, I was happy.
But I didn't show it.
Not to anyone.
On the outside, I was quiet just the boy who worked in silence, who no longer joined the other children when they ran to the schoolyard or helped on the farm.
Even Goru noticed, but he didn't say much.
He just watched me from afar, his eyes kind, as if he understood more than he should.
The Return of Normal Days
Days passed, and the rhythm of life flowed again.
The crops grew tall and strong, the fields golden beneath the sun.
The men worked together, singing songs of harvest.
Children carried water from the stream, racing each other on the narrow paths.
Laughter returned to the air that same laughter that once filled the village before the storm of secrets.
At night, fires burned in the village square.
People danced again, celebrating not one, but two new lives waiting to be born.
Some said both children would be lucky, blessed by the same moon.
Some said they would bring strength to Fernstead, that the gods had chosen them for something great.
And me I would just sit near the corner, carving my toys by the firelight, pretending not to listen.
But inside, I was smiling.
Quietly.
Waiting
I counted days like the way farmers count rain — with patience and quiet hope.
Every morning, before going to school, I would glance at my mother's stomach, then at Clara's when she visited.
Each time they smiled, my heart lifted.
Sometimes, I even dreamed about my baby sister holding her hand, showing her my toys, teaching her how to laugh again like I once did.
I didn't tell anyone those dreams.
They were mine alone.
My small secret in a village that already had too many.
The world outside me was full of joy and peace.
But inside me, I carried something smaller, something simple
a child's wish for a sister,
a quiet hope for love,
and a belief that maybe, just maybe, this peace would last forever.