“Mummy, this time I will hide it,” she told her mother one night.
Mrs. Johnson looked worried, like someone who had so much to say but couldn’t. “Just be careful,” she said.
Grace hid the letter inside her Bible, under her clothes. She checked it every night before sleeping, but three days later, it was gone.
She turned her room upside down. “No, no, no, no. It was here.”
That was the second time.
By the third time, she didn’t tell a soul, not even her mother. She gave the letter to her friend Deborah for safekeeping.
“I don’t trust this house anymore,” Grace admitted.
Deborah nodded and even offered Grace a place to stay when it was time to leave.
But somehow, her father still found out.
One evening, he called her into the room. Grace stood in front of him, trembling as he accused her of hiding things from him. When she tried to play it off, his voice turned sharp and dangerous.
The next morning, Deborah came running to the house, breathless.
“Grace, your father came to our house,” she whispered. “He took the letter.”
Everything went silent for Grace.
That was when her Uncle Peter finally stepped in. He shouted at her father one afternoon, demanding to know why he kept stopping his own daughter from bettering herself.
Mr. Johnson’s face tightened as he told Peter to stay out of his family business.
“She’s your daughter, not your property,” Peter yelled back, but he was eventually kicked out of the house.
After that day, Grace’s life became a cage. Her father watched her every move, constantly questioning where she was going and who she was meeting. He buried her in chores—washing clothes, cleaning the kitchen, and sweeping the compound over and over, regardless of how tired she was.
One evening, Grace finally broke down.
“Why won’t you let me live?” she asked, her voice shaking with emotion.
Her father didn’t even hesitate. “A woman doesn’t need school to succeed,” he said coldly.
When Grace told him that was his belief and not her life, his eyes hardened.
“As long as you live under my roof, it is my life.”
Later that night, her mother came to her quietly with the truth. She confessed that Grace’s father had been the one hiding all the admission letters for years.
As Grace felt her chest tighten under the weight of that betrayal, she decided she couldn’t stay a moment longer. She packed a small bag and tried to slip out the door, but the sound of a loud slap stopped her.
She ran back inside to find her father shouting and her mother crying. When she stepped in to stop the violence, the room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence.
Grace looked at her mother’s bruised cheek and then at her father. She slowly set her bag down and said, “I will stay, but I will not stop fighting for my life.”
After that day, Grace made a firm decision. If she could not enter as a student, she would stand as close as she could.
One morning, she packed a small tray with sachets of pure water, biscuits, and recharge cards, tied her scarf firmly, and walked straight to the university gate.
“Pure water, cold water, biscuit,” she called out.
Students passed without looking at her. Some bought from her while many ignored her.
By the second week, she had learned how to move fast, how to hold her tray steady, and how to call out without sounding desperate.
That was how she met Daniel Brown.
“Give me two pure water,” he said one afternoon.
She handed them over, smiling calmly.
He watched her for a moment, then asked, “You come here every day?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not a student?”
“No, I’m not.”
“But you sound like one.”
Grace didn’t reply.
From that day, he stopped by often. Sometimes he bought things he didn’t need just to make her happy.
Then one day, he asked a question Grace had been longing to hear.
“Would you like to further your studies?”
Grace gave a small smile. “Yes, of course. I have always dreamt of becoming a lawyer.”
Daniel raised his eyebrows. “A lawyer? That’s serious.”
He looked at her, then nodded. “I believe in you.”
But not everyone was like Daniel. Not everyone treated Grace with kindness.
One afternoon, a black car pulled up right in front of the school gate. The engine had hardly gone quiet before the door opened and a girl stepped out, removing her sunglasses slowly as if she wanted to be noticed.
“Hey,” she said, walking straight to Grace. “Do you have change for this?”
Grace nodded and reached into her small purse, counting quickly before handing it over. “Yes.”
The girl collected the money, but instead of leaving, her eyes dropped to Grace’s tray.
“Pure water, biscuits, airtime.” She tilted her head slightly. “So this is what you do now?”
Grace didn’t answer. She adjusted the bottles on her tray as if she hadn’t heard.
The girl gave a short laugh. “Interesting.”
Her friends had gathered behind her now.
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