Humaira's POV
I exhaled deeply, fighting the creeping despair. Opportunities were slipping through my fingers like grains of sand, and I could do nothing but watch. I felt trapped, stuck in a life that didn't feel like mine.
As I sat there, my thoughts drifted to Abba's relatives—the ones who had turned their backs on us when we needed them most.
Uncle Shamsudeen had the audacity to tell Ummah to marry me off, as if that was the only solution. Yet, this was the same man Abba never let lack anything when he was alive. He would visit our house in Abuja, eat as he pleased, and demand money from Abba without hesitation.
And he wasn't the only one. The rest of the family was no different. When Ummah reached out for help, all she received were excuses.
Some claimed they were struggling too. Others insisted they had already helped someone else.
Their concern had never been real—just a fragile illusion that shattered the moment we needed it most.
But it wasn't just them. Ummah's friends, the ones she had once trusted, were no better. They avoided her calls, ignored her messages, and some even pretended not to see her when they passed by our shop.
It was as if we had become invisible, as if our struggles had made us untouchable.
Still, there were a few of Ummah's relatives who tried, in their own small way, to help. Occasionally, they would send money or little gifts—a bag of rice, a few naira tucked into an envelope. Their kindness was appreciated, but it was never enough to make a real difference.
I sighed, my gaze falling on the empty room around me. The house felt too quiet without Ummah's presence. Even in our hardest moments, she had been our pillar—never once complaining, never once giving up. And despite everything, she still carried herself with grace.
Just then, the distant hum of an engine broke the silence. A car pulled into our compound, its tires crunching against the gravel. My heart skipped a beat. I turned toward the window, my breath catching when I saw who it was.
Professor Bello.
He hadn't been to Kano since his last visit. I didn't expect to see him again so soon.
He stepped out of the car, with his familiar warm smile. As he walked in, his presence filled the quiet space with an unexpected sense of comfort.
"My daughter, how are you doing?" he greeted, his voice carrying both warmth and concern. "I hope you're feeling better, koh?"
A small smile found its way to my lips as I nodded. "I'm doing better, Alhamdulillah," I replied softly.
He asked about Ummah and my siblings, and I explained that they weren't home. Wanting to be hospitable, I quickly offered him a glass of water on a plate, just as we always served guests.
"We don't drink bottled water; I hope you don't mind," I said apologetically.
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, come on, it's not a problem at all," he reassured me, taking the glass with a grateful nod.
A comfortable silence settled between us as he took a sip. Then, glancing at the door, he said, "I'll wait for your mother. I'd like to speak with her when she returns."
I nodded, a small sense of relief washing over me.
As we chatted, his gaze softened with genuine interest. "So, tell me, Humaira, what are your future plans?"
I hesitated for a moment before answering, my fingers tracing the edge of my hijab. "I want to study law," I said, my voice laced with both hope and uncertainty. "I've always dreamed of becoming a lawyer, of standing up for people who can't fight for themselves."
Professor Bello nodded thoughtfully, his expression unreadable at first. Then, he leaned back in his chair and smiled. "That's a noble dream," he said. "And not an easy one. But I believe you can do it."
I lowered my gaze, my fingers tightening around my hijab. "I wish I could," I murmured. "But with our financial situation, I doubt I'll ever be able to study law."
"Not being financially stable shouldn't stop your dreams, my dear." His voice was gentle yet firm.
His words warmed me, but what he said next held me captive. He shared his own story—his struggles as a young man juggling multiple jobs just to put himself through school while supporting his family. There were nights he barely slept, days he nearly gave up. But he pushed through, and in the end, he became a professor.
His words stirred something deep inside me. For once, I felt seen, understood. His journey wasn't so different from what I was facing. And if he could rise above his hardships, maybe I could too.
He also told me about his family, his wife, his two married daughters, and his only son, who was pursuing his master's degree in Egypt. As he spoke, his eyes softened with warmth, his love for them evident in every word.
"They've all grown so fast," he said with a wistful smile. "Sometimes, I still see them as little children running around the house, causing trouble."
I chuckled softly, imagining the scene. There was something comforting about the way he spoke, the familiarity in his voice reminding me of Abba. It wasn't just the stories he shared—it was the way he listened, the way he truly saw me.
As we talked, a quiet sense of connection settled between us. He understood me in a way few people did, and for the first time in a long while, I felt like someone genuinely cared about my future.
Then, to my surprise, he offered to sponsor my education. The words caught me off guard, leaving me momentarily speechless. Gratitude swelled within me, but I told him he would have to speak with Ummah first. As much as the offer filled me with hope, I needed to be sure she was comfortable with the arrangement. He just smiled and said, "You deserve it, my daughter."
"Education is key to unlocking your potential," he said with a smile. "Never give up on your dreams. You have a bright future ahead."
---
Ummah arrived soon after, a warm smile on her face, happy to see Professor Bello sitting with me. She didn't expect him to visit, and her surprise was evident in her sparkling eyes. As she exchanged greetings with him, her eyes darted to me, and I could sense her curiosity. We exchanged pleasantries, and then I excused myself to get a something from the kitchen. I slowly got up, careful not to put too much weight on my fractured leg, and began to make my way to the kitchen. As I walked out of the living room, I couldn't help but overhear snippets of their conversation.
As I re-entered the living room, Ummah's eyes sparkled with tears, and her voice trembled with emotion as Professor Bello had shared the news of his offer to sponsor my education. Her face lit up with a mix of surprise and gratitude, and she thanked him profusely. I felt a surge of excitement and relief, knowing that this opportunity could change my life.
Professor Bello's offer was still sinking in, and I couldn't help but feel grateful for his kindness. As I looked at him, I felt a mix of emotions: excitement, relief, and hope. His kindness had given me a new lease on life, and I was determined to make the most of it.
As the conversation progressed, Professor Bello's offer became even more generous. He suggested that I come to live with his family in Abuja, where I could further my education in a more supportive and stable environment. Ummah's initial reaction was one of hesitation, and she tried to decline the offer, citing concerns about being separated from me and the burden it would place on Professor Bello's family.
But he was insistent, and he reassured Ummah that his family would welcome me with open arms. He also emphasized the importance of providing me with a stable and supportive environment, where I could thrive and reach my full potential. Ummah's expression softened, and after a moment's thought, she nodded her head in agreement.
"I think that would be best for her," she said, smiling at me. "She deserves a chance to succeed, and I know that you will take good care of her."
Professor Bello smiled, clearly pleased with Ummah's decision. "I'll return in a month's time to pick her up," he said. "In the meantime, I want her to get ready for the transition. I'll make sure to arrange everything on my end."
I felt a mix of emotions: excitement, gratitude, and a hint of sadness at the thought of leaving Ummah and our community behind. But I knew that this was an opportunity I couldn't afford to miss. I nodded my head, trying to process the sudden turn of events.
As Professor Bello prepared to leave, Ummah walked him to the door, thanking him again for his kindness. I watched them, feeling a sense of hope and possibility that I hadn't felt in a long time.
As the day went on, Abdulkareem and Qasim returned home from school. The moment Ummah shared the news with them, their faces lit up with excitement.
"That's amazing!" Abdulkareem exclaimed, while Qasim nodded eagerly. They rushed over to me, their grins wide with pride.
"Congratulations, Ya Humaira!" they chimed in unison.
Their enthusiasm was infectious, filling the room with an energy I hadn't felt in a long time.
In the weeks that followed, I focused on recovering from my injuries. Every day, I pushed myself a little harder, determined to regain my strength. At the same time, I started preparing for what lay ahead. With Professor Bello's promise to register me for the JAMB exam, I knew I had to be ready.
This was my chance, the best opportunity I had ever been given. And I couldn't afford to waste it.