Three days after returning from Mr. Phiri's house, Choolwe stood beneath the old mango tree with a small travel bag resting at her feet.
The morning air was cool.
Birds sang from the highest branches as sunlight filtered through the leaves.
She looked up at the tree her parents had planted together decades earlier.
"So many secrets," she whispered.
"It all began here."
Luyando walked toward her carrying a flask of tea.
"You remind me so much of your mother."
Choolwe smiled sadly.
"I hope that's a good thing."
"It is."
Luyando squeezed her hand.
"But don't carry this burden alone."
The two women climbed into Choolwe's vehicle and began the four-hundred-kilometre journey to St. Mary's Mission Hospital.
The road stretched through villages, mountains and endless fields of maize.
Neither woman spoke much.
Each was occupied by her own thoughts.
Luyando remembered the lively schoolgirl who laughed louder than everyone else.
Choolwe remembered the determined businesswoman who never accepted defeat.
Both were searching for the same person.
By late afternoon they arrived at the old mission hospital.
Time seemed to have stopped there.
The buildings were built from weathered bricks.
Large jacaranda trees shaded the courtyard.
Several elderly nuns quietly tended flower gardens.
Everything felt peaceful.
Inside the reception office, Choolwe explained why they had come.
The young receptionist listened politely before shaking her head.
"Those records would be more than thirty years old."
"I know."
"They're probably in our archives."
"Can someone help us?"
The receptionist disappeared into another office.
Several minutes later an elderly nun appeared.
Her name badge read:
Sister Agnes.
Her face was gentle, but her eyes reflected many years of experience.
"You are looking for Nalishuwa?"
Choolwe froze.
"You know that name?"
Sister Agnes nodded slowly.
"I haven't heard it spoken for a very long time."
Luyando's breathing became faster.
"You remember her?"
"I remember every frightened young woman who came through these doors."
The nun led them through a narrow corridor into an old records room.
Dust covered dozens of shelves filled with worn files.
She carefully searched one cabinet after another.
Finally she stopped.
Her trembling hands removed a faded brown folder.
Written across the front were the words:
NALISHUWA MWEEMBA
For a moment, nobody moved.
After thirty years...
The file existed.
Sister Agnes gently opened it.
Inside were medical reports.
Admission forms.
Nursing notes.
Then she stopped reading.
A tear rolled down her cheek.
"I remember now."
"What happened?" Choolwe asked softly.
The nun closed the file.
"Nalishuwa came here alone."
"She was frightened."
"She was only seventeen."
"And she was about to become a mother."
The room became silent.
Outside, church bells echoed across the mission grounds.
The search that had consumed Chumuka's life was finally reaching the place where everything had changed.
But Sister Agnes had not yet revealed the most important part of the story.
She looked directly at Choolwe before quietly saying,
"I can tell you what happened after the baby was born..."
"...because I was the one who placed that little girl into her mother's arms."