Once I had asked God for one or two extra inches in height, but

Host: The night was bathed in moonlight, a soft, silver glow that spilled over the mountains and settled upon the still lake below. The air was thin, crisp, and quiet, save for the whisper of wind through pine branches and the distant howl of a fox.

A campfire crackled at the edge of the clearing, its flames dancing in rhythms both wild and controlled. Jack sat beside it, his face carved by shadow and light, his eyes reflecting the embers like thoughts that would not sleep. Jeeny sat across from him, her hands cupped around a tin mug, steam rising between them like a prayer.

Above, the stars blazed—a thousand small fires burning in obedience to the dark.

Jeeny: softly, reverently “Malala Yousafzai once said, *‘Once I had asked God for one or two extra inches in height, but instead, he made me as tall as the sky, so high that I could not measure myself... By giving me