A nurse smiled gently. “You need to take care of yourself.”

Amara managed a nod. Her throat felt dry. She glanced at her phone on the bedside table, six missed calls from Mum. Three from Awele and Dad.

There was a soft knock on the door.

Awele stood awkwardly in the doorway, holding a plastic bag with oranges and Lucozade. Her face was without makeup. 

Amara blinked. “You came.”

“You nearly passed out chasing your future,” Awele muttered, stepping in. “The least I could do was bring sugar.”

Amara managed a small laugh. It sounded rusty.

They didn’t say much at first.

Awele sank into the chair beside the bed, peeling an orange, fingers fidgeting. “Mum and Dad are very worried, even though Dad’s acting like he’s not.” She handed Amara a slice of orange.

Amara collected it and looked down. “I didn’t think I was pushing too hard.”

“You were.” Awele glanced at her. “You always do.”

Amara turned her head, eyes glassy. “And you always make it look easy. Being free.”

“It’s not,” Awele whispered. “It’s loud, and messy, and… sometimes lonely too.”

For a long moment, neither of the twin spoke.

But in that hospital room, they realized how much they missed and needed each other.

Back home, their parents were glad to see Amara looking well. They noticed that Awele was very supportive to help Amara unpack. Amara complimented Awele’s new hairstyle. They even sat side by side during dinner. 

Later that night, Awele pulled out an old book from their drawer. It had childhood drawings, notes passed in class, and photos of them wearing matching outfits.

“Remember this one?” she said, pointing to a photo of them at age seven, covered in cake icing.

Amara smiled. “We were so messy.”

They laughed.

Question

1. What happened to Amara at the workshop?

2. Who brought oranges and Lucozade to the hospital?

3. What did the nurse say was wrong with Amara?

4. What item did Awele bring out later in the night?

5. Do you think the twins were starting to reconnect?