Liam had just handed the heavy basket of carefully sorted fruit to his mother at her small market stall. She thanked him with her usual warm smile and a quick, affectionate pat on the cheek, already turning to arrange the mangoes, guavas, and starfruit in neat, attractive rows for the morning customers. Liam lingered only a moment longer, making sure she had enough small bills for change and that the shade cloth was properly adjusted, then started the walk back toward their house on the quieter side of the village.

The market was lively at this hour. Voices rose and fell in familiar rhythms. He greeted everyone he passed, the...