BORROWED LIFE Episode 2

Aminat (POV)

By my second year in college, I had perfected my disguise. The rich accent, the expensive laugh, the way I held my head all of it was a performance, a mask that felt better than my real skin. I stopped eating the food my mother sent; it smelled like home, and home smelled like weakness. I avoided phone calls, delayed messages, and invented emergencies to justify my absence. Each lie became smoother, more believable, until I no longer remembered what the truth sounded like.

Through Zara, the popular girl everyone envied, I tasted the life I had imagined. Late-night club outings, fancy restaurants, shopping trips I could never afford on my own all of it seemed endless. Money became a tool to maintain the story, to convince everyone, including myself, that I belonged. When my parents sent small allowances, I spent it all in days, borrowing from friends and promising to pay back. The guilt I felt was fleeting, drowned by the intoxicating thrill of recognition, admiration, and the attention of Daniel, who believed every word I said.

Daniel was everything I wanted charming, confident, wealthy, and fascinated by the version of me I created. When he suggested a future together, I felt my lies had finally become currency for happiness. I stopped sending money home completely, convinced my sacrifices were bigger than their struggles. I thought, They will survive. I deserve more.

Sadiya (POV)

Life at home was no easier. Musa grew weaker, his body succumbing to stress and exhaustion from endless work. Hospital bills swallowed what little savings we had, and my younger children were forced to skip meals or school. I washed clothes, begged neighbors for odd jobs, anything to survive, hoping one day Aminat would remember us. I watched her absence like a knife twisting slowly. She never called, never visited. Our letters returned unanswered.

Each night, I whispered prayers, begging God to keep her safe. Each day, I forced a smile when my children asked about their sister. I told them she was busy with school, that she was striving for a better life. But inside, my heart broke a little more. Sometimes, when I closed my eyes, I could picture her in a fancy classroom, laughing with friends, oblivious to the pain she had left behind. I swallowed my sorrow, telling myself that her dreams were worth this suffering.

Musa and I argued less, though the tension between us was heavy and silent. I had no energy left to grieve the distance Aminat had created, only enough to endure. Each day was a battle of survival, and every night a prayer that my daughter would not forget the family who loved her beyond reason.

By the end of the second year, I felt the first tremors of change. I sensed that the lies Aminat had built around herself were beginning to cast shadows, not just on her life but on ours. Yet I could do nothing. All I could do was wait, pray, and hope that one day, the girl I raised would return to the family she had abandoned.... continue reading Episode 3