Nights are the hardest. Abida sleeps semi-upright, the bulky bag under her head, holding Soni against her chest, five-year-old Hamir and seven-year-old Roshni curled around them. “I count their breaths,” she whispers. “I’m always afraid someone might take them away.”About 5am on a cold November morning in 2023, Abida and her children were sleeping, wrapped in a thin blanket, when a speeding car crashed into them.“When I opened my eyes, everything was dust, blood and screaming,” she says. “My two children, Sonia and Amir, were crushed to death in front of me.”The bodies of five-year-old Sonia and seven-year-old Amir were trapped beneath the vehicle. “I collected their pieces with my own hands,” she says, pressing her hand to her forehead as if trying to push the memory away. “I screamed for help, but it came too late.”Abida remembers standing frozen in place, blood on her hands, her body shaking. “I just kept looking at them, thinking maybe they were breathing,” she recalls quietly. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe they will wake up.”Abida later heard from bystanders and police officers that the five people inside the car had been drinking. “People told me the smell of alcohol was strong,” she says quietly. “Maybe that’s why they lost c …
