Sometimes she preferred to sit alone in the garden.
Sometimes she wanted to talk about the cave.
Other times, she could not bear to hear its name.
Gradually, she began sleeping more comfortably.
She resumed short walks.
She started using her camera again.
At first, she photographed ordinary objects around the house.
A cup beside the window.
Rainwater collecting on a leaf.
Sunlight falling across an empty chair.
Then she began photographing plants.
Her hands seemed to remember the work she had once loved.
She carefully adjusted the lens, examined the light, and waited for the right moment.
One afternoon, Mahmoud found her kneeling beside a small flower in the garden.
She was smiling.
Not because someone had asked her to.
Not because she was trying to prove she had recovered.
She was smiling because she had discovered something beautiful.
He stood in the doorway and watched without interrupting.
For the first time since her return, he felt that his daughter was beginning to find her way back to herself.
