A wry smile tugged at my lips as the irony of the moment settled in. There I was, greasy fingers scrolling through a devotional while waiting – impatiently – for my bread dough to rise. Two hours had passed already, and the dough still looked like it needed another hour. I was tempted to shove it into the oven as‑is. After all, why should it take so long? “Why am I even making this bread?” I muttered, half‑annoyed.I wanted to be at the seaside, not babysitting dough. Then the question dropped. “Why do you think it is called unleavened bread?” Without hesitation, I answered,“It had no yeast.” “Why did it have no yeast?” That one stopped me. My eyelids scrunched, my brain rummaging for the obvious answer like a student whispering exam questions to herself, hoping the answer would magically