BORROWED LIFE (Episode 1)

Aminat (POV)

I knew I was poor long before I understood the word for it. Poverty announced itself in our one-room apartment in Ajegunle, in the cracked walls, in the way rain bullied its way through the roof, in the silence that followed my parents’ whispered arguments at night. I watched other girls walk past our street with clean shoes and careless laughter, and something inside me hardened early. I did not want this life. I promised myself I would leave it behind, no matter the cost.

School was the only place where I felt important. Teachers praised my brilliance, classmates admired my confidence, but admiration always ended the moment my background was mentioned. I learned quickly that respect had conditions. By the time I gained admission into a private college through a partial scholarship, fear walked hand in hand with joy. The campus was beautiful. The students were polished. Their lives sounded expensive. I panicked. The truth about me would shrink me.

So I lied.

The first lie came easily. I said my father was a contractor who traveled often. I said my mother owned shops across Lagos. The words tasted sweet. No one questioned me. Each nod of belief felt like oxygen. I told myself it was harmless, temporary, necessary. I convinced myself that truth was overrated when it stood in the way of survival.

At home, my parents celebrated my admission like a miracle. They hugged me with pride I felt I no longer deserved. I watched them sell possessions, borrow money, and pretend everything was fine. Guilt knocked quietly, but ambition shouted louder. I deserved this chance, I told myself. I deserved more than struggle. I packed my bags and left, already halfway gone from the life that made me.

Sadiya (POV)

Aminat was born with fire in her eyes. Even as a baby, she cried with purpose. I knew she would not live a small life. When hardship surrounded us, I looked at her and felt strength return. She was my first child, my proof that tomorrow could be better than today. I poured my hopes into her the way poor women do completely, dangerously.

When she gained admission, her father and I rejoiced. We knew we could not afford it, but we also knew we could not deny destiny. We sold what we had. We reduced meals. We borrowed without pride. Hunger came, but hope came with it. Each sacrifice felt like a seed planted in faith.

Sometimes Aminat spoke to me with impatience. Sometimes she sounded distant, rushed, almost embarrassed. I noticed, but I excused it. Education changes children, people said. Success makes them busy. I chose understanding over suspicion because a mother’s love is stubborn.

The night before she left for school, I watched her pack her bag carefully, folding clothes we struggled to buy. I prayed silently as she slept. I asked God to protect her heart more than her body. I asked that she never forget where she came from.

As she walked away the next morning, I waved until she disappeared. I did not know I was waving goodbye to the girl I raised. I believed sacrifice always returns with joy. I did not yet know the price we were about to pay...

Continue reading Episode 2