“Isn’t she the one that used to hang around here?” one of them said.
“The same one,” the girl replied.
Then she looked directly at Grace and said clearly, “Gate girl that wants to be a lawyer.”
The girls laughed.
For a brief second, Grace’s fingers tightened around her tray, but her face did not change.
“Your change is complete,” she said calmly.
The girl—Vanessa Cole—took one last look at her, smiled in a way that didn’t feel friendly, then turned and walked off with her friends.
Grace stood there for a moment after they left. She didn’t move immediately. Then she took a slow breath, shifted the tray on her head, and continued calling out to customers as if nothing had happened.
Later that same day, when the crowd reduced, she moved closer to one of the lecture halls. She stood just outside the window, pretending to arrange her things, but her ears were focused inside.
“Offer, acceptance, and consideration form a valid contract,” the lecturer said.
Grace leaned slightly, careful not to draw attention. She stayed until the lecture ended, holding onto every word she could catch.
From that day on, it became her routine. From one class window to another, from one voice to the next, she listened, memorized, and stored everything.
After lectures, when students left in a hurry, she moved around quietly, picking up what they left behind—a torn handout here, a half-used notebook there. Some pages were dirty. Some were incomplete. But it didn’t matter. At night, she spread them across her bed and read as if her life depended on it.
One evening, as she stood near another lecture hall, a voice spoke behind her.
“You’ve been here for days.”
Grace turned quickly. A man stood there, watching her closely.
“I’m Dr. Michael Adams,” he said. “Why are you always around this place?”
Grace held her tray a little tighter. “I’m just selling, sir.”
He looked at her for a few seconds, as if he were trying to figure something out. Then he nodded once and walked away without another word.
That night, Grace sat on her bed surrounded by scattered papers. She stared at them for a long time before speaking softly to herself.
“If I can’t enter, I will still learn.”
Seven years passed, but for Grace, it did not feel like time was moving forward. It felt as though she was standing in one place, watching life move without her.
Deborah was the first reminder.
“I’m graduating next week,” Deborah said over the phone.
Grace forced a smile, even though Deborah couldn’t see it. “That’s good. I’m happy for you.”
After that call, the messages became fewer. The calls stopped. Slowly, Deborah became a memory.
Daniel, on the other hand, stayed longer, but not forever.
“I’m done with school,” he said one afternoon, standing in front of her with a small box. “Final year is over.”
Grace nodded. “You made it.”
He smiled. “You too, just in a different way.”
He handed her the box. “These are my law materials. I don’t need them anymore.”
Grace looked at them as if they were gold. “Thank you.”
“Please don’t stop pursuing your dreams,” he added.
“I won’t,” she said happily.
That was the last day she saw him.
Then one afternoon—the afternoon that changed everything for Grace—as she stood near the lecture hall again, Dr. Adams walked up to her.
“You’re still here,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” Grace replied.
He looked at her closely, then asked, “What is consideration in contract law?”
Grace answered immediately. “It is what each party gives in exchange for a promise. Without it, the agreement may not be enforceable.”
Dr. Adams blinked. “And what makes a contract valid?”
“Offer, acceptance, consideration, and intention to create legal relations.”
He stared at her in shock. “Where did you learn all this?”
Grace gestured slightly with her head. “From here—and from books people throw away.”
He was quiet for a moment, then he said, “You deserve a place inside.”
Grace gave a small, tired smile. “I know, sir.”
He nodded slowly, then walked away.
Days passed, but nothing changed.
That night, Grace sat on her bed, crying bitterly. “God, have you forgotten me?”
A few days later, the sun was high and the university gate was busy as usual. Grace was standing there with her tray of goods when she overheard a group of students nearby. Their voices were raised in an argument over their studies.
“That’s not right,” Grace said before she could stop herself.
Three students turned to stare at her.
“What?” one of them asked, looking confused.
“You’re mixing it up,” Grace explained calmly. “That case doesn’t apply to what you’re talking about. You’re using the wrong principle because that situation is about a breach of contract, not how a contract is formed.”
The students frowned, but before they could argue, a man standing behind them spoke up.
“She’s right,” he said.
The man stepped forward and looked at Grace with interest. “Explain it again,” he told her.
Grace hesitated for a second, then began to speak. He listened carefully without interrupting once. When she finished, he nodded slowly.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Grace,” she replied.
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