The sun hadn’t yet cleared the minaret of the neighborhood mosque when Ayla’s phone buzzed on the plastic tablecloth. It was a cheap, brick-like Android with a cracked screen protector held together by packing tape. The notification light blinked red. 3G. Weak, but alive.
Then, a single grey checkmark.
Ayla’s thumb trembled. It wasn’t just an access point. It was a bridge. Her father was in Germany, working a night shift at a warehouse in Düsseldorf. Her older brother, Emre, had been “on a boat” for three days, trying to cross from Turkey to Greece. Their last message was a single thumbs-up emoji, sent from a spotty Wi-Fi connection on Lesbos.