On Saturday morning, Nuru taped two sheets of paper to the wall beside the table.
The first said **HOME**.
The second said **SHOP**.
Salim passed with a cup of tea, stopped, and stared at them.
“Are we going to start living like an office?”
Nuru was searching a drawer for a ruler.
“For now, the office seems to have more discipline than we do.”
Salim didn't argue.
Alya came over holding a colored pen.
“What are you writing?”
“Money,” Nuru said.
Alya frowned. “Boring.”
“Good. When money gets too exciting at home, there's usually a problem.”
Salim laughed softly.
Nuru looked at him. “That's something I learned this week.”
Alya went back to the sitting room.
Nuru drew lines beneath the two headings.
“Today we're not looking for someone to blame. We're looking for what must be paid, what can wait, and what must not be touched.”
Salim sat down.
They started with the household.
Rent.
Food.
Transport.
Small school expenses.
Alya's trip was already paid, so Nuru put a tick beside it.
Then she wrote **Mama**.
Salim knew she meant Mama Rahma.
“When is her rent due?”
“Next week,” Nuru said. “The landlord increased it a little. I'd kept part of the reserve for that.”
Salim looked at what remained.
“Can we cover it?”
“We can if nobody takes any more without telling me.”
The words were sharp, but Nuru didn't say them like she wanted a fight.
Salim nodded.
“We'll cover it.”
Nuru raised her pen.
“Don't promise. Let's look.”
They calculated.
They could cover it if the second supplier's refund arrived as promised and if Salim didn't take any more money out of the shop.
“Then this is conditional,” Nuru said. “It isn't money we have.”
She wrote **refund — pending**.
Salim said, “I'm beginning to hate the word pending.”
“It's better than writing received before something arrives.”
Salim accepted that with a nod.
On the SHOP sheet they listed the first supplier, small stock purchases, possible refunds, kiosk rent, and repairs that could be completed without new parts.
Nuru asked, “Is there any money you still haven't told me about?”
“No.”
“Debt?”
“No.”
“Any promise to someone?”
Salim thought of Tunu.
“No.”
“Did you promise to return?”
“No.”
Nuru watched him for a moment, then continued.
A few minutes later, her phone rang.
Mama Rahma.
Nuru answered.
“Mama, how are you?”
Salim kept writing, but he could hear Nuru's mother's voice on the other end, a little louder than usual.
“Yes… when did the landlord say?”
Nuru stood.
“No, don't give him anything today. Tell him we'll call you this evening.”
Salim put down his pen.
Nuru listened, then said, “Mama, don't borrow from Bi Amina yet. Please.”
She ended the call.
“What happened?” Salim asked.
“The landlord wants the increase early. He says someone else is ready to take the room at the new price.”
“How much?”
Nuru told him.
Salim calculated in his head.
It was almost the same as part of his second payment to Tunu.
He didn't say it.
He didn't need to.
Nuru saw it on his face.
“Yes,” she said. “I calculated too.”
Salim stood.
“I'll find it.”
“Where?”
“At the shop.”
“Salim.”
“I'm not going to Tunu.”
“I didn't ask about Tunu. I asked where the money will come from.”
Salim sat again.
“I have two repairs I can finish today.”
“How much will they bring?”
He told her.
“Still not enough.”
“If the refund arrives—”
“Pending.”
Salim breathed in.
Nuru said, “We'll tell Mama the truth.”
Salim looked at her.
“Tell her what?”
“That the reserve we'd set aside has gone down. That we can't give her all of it today.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because it's my mistake.”
“Yes.”
Nuru answered so quickly that Salim stared at her.
“And that's exactly why you'll say it.”
“How will your mother look at me?”
“That's not something we can buy with another secret.”
Salim was silent.
At midday, they went to Mama Rahma's place.
She lived in a small house behind a road lined with food shops and salons. When she opened the door, she was wearing a kanga and her reading glasses.
“Nuru, I told you not to come because of me.”
“We came for tea,” Nuru said.
Mama Rahma looked at Salim. “And this one looks as if his tea owes money.”
Salim laughed awkwardly.
Inside, they sat on two chairs and a stool. Mama Rahma put tea on the table.
“Nuru said the landlord came,” Salim began.
“Landlords come all the time. That's nothing new.”
“There's something else.”
Nuru didn't help him.
Salim swallowed.
“The money we'd kept for emergencies… I used some of it.”
Mama Rahma looked at Nuru.
Nuru said, “Without my agreement.”
Mama Rahma looked back at Salim.
“For the business?”
“Partly for the business. Partly for someone I believed could help the business.”
“A consultant?”
Salim hesitated.
“In a way.”
“What way?”
Salim explained.
He didn't make it sound elegant. He told her about Kassim, the first session, Juma paying, another stage, the reserve, and the similar receipts. Every time he reached a part that made him look foolish, he felt the urge to skip it.
He didn't.
Mama Rahma listened until the end.
Then she asked, “How much did you give him?”
Salim named the total.
Mama Rahma clicked her tongue against her teeth.
“So that's the price of secrecy?”
Salim didn't understand.
“What secrecy?”
“You paid that man money. But when you hid it from Nuru, you paid again. Now my landlord has come, and you're paying a third time in stress.”
Nuru looked down.
Mama Rahma continued, “People think secrets are free because nobody gives them a receipt.”
Salim felt the words settle inside him.
“I'll replace it,” he said.
Mama Rahma raised a hand.
“Don't promise me. I've lived long enough without pretty promises. Tell me what you can do today.”
Salim named the amount he and Nuru had calculated was safe to give without damaging the household and shop further.
Mama Rahma nodded.
“That's enough to talk to the landlord. We'll plan the rest.”
“I'll add more after the refund.”
“When the refund arrives, then it becomes money.”
Salim looked at Nuru.
She didn't smile, but her eyes softened a little.
Mama Rahma noticed.
“Have you two started a new school?”
“Procurement,” Salim said.
“Truth,” Nuru said.
Mama Rahma laughed.
When they returned, Salim went to the shop to finish two repairs.
The first customer paid the balance. Salim recorded the transaction immediately.
The second customer wanted to leave a deposit for a repair whose part wasn't in the shop.
“Don't pay yet,” Salim said.
The customer looked surprised.
“Why?”
“I'll confirm stock on Monday. If it's there, I'll call you.”
“Can't you order it?”
“I can. But I don't want to hold your money before I know.”
The customer nodded and left with only a diagnostic receipt.
Kassim watched from his kiosk.
“You're refusing money now?”
“I'm refusing debt dressed as money.”
Kassim laughed. “Nuru teach you that?”
“I paid for the lesson myself.”
Kassim went quiet.
“Did you tell her about the receipts?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She said the evidence doesn't erase what I did at home.”
Kassim nodded.
“She's right.”
“I know.”
Kassim leaned on the counter.
“Moses sent me a message. That catering woman agreed to speak to him tomorrow.”
“Name?”
“Saada. Bi Saada Mrema.”
Salim remembered the name from his conversation with Moses.
“What does she want?”
“First she wants to know what we want.”
Salim looked at the printed receipts inside the envelope.
“I don't want a story about storming Tunu's place.”
“Neither do I.”
“I don't want people going online to abuse him.”
“Then?”
“I want us to put down what each person paid, what they were told, and what happened next.”
Kassim nodded.
“Evidence.”
“Yes.”
That evening, the second supplier's refund still hadn't arrived.
Salim didn't count it.
Instead, he sent Nuru the balances from the two completed repairs and a screenshot of his entries.
Nuru replied:
**Seen.**
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