RALPH

The immigration officer, a woman with brown eyes that held a piercing stare, didn’t say anything at first. She just looked at our passports for a long moment, flipping through the pages. The air around me felt thick, and I could almost hear the ticking of my pulse in my ears.

“Purpose of your visit?” she asked sharply, her gaze still fixed on Dahlia’s passport.

“Tourism,” Dahlia answered smoothly, her voice steady. “We’re here to see the Rwenzori Mountains.”

The officer didn’t respond immediately. She looked at Dahlia for a moment longer before flipping through her documents, her fingers brushing against the pages slowly. Then she glanced up. “And...