Blue hour settles over a rain-slick quay. In a city that keeps its own ledgers, a single decision-gentle, inconvenient, impossible to unmake-sets lives on a collision course. Keys change hands. A battered notebook gathers names, owed favours, and the kind of promises that outlast a season.
As storms roll in from the harbour, people who have learned to ration their hope try again anyway. A ferry whistle, a shop light, a door held open-small mercies become a map. Old hurts refuse spectacle; new loyalties ask to be tested in daylight. And overhead, the crows count everything we keep and everything we abandon, stern in the morning, oddly merciful at dusk.
Children of the Crows is a cinematic, slow-burn literary romance with thriller edges-consent-forward, kid-first, and tender without sentimentality. A novel about how cities take care of their own, and how ordinary bravery makes room for a different kind of ending.