In the washroom, Olaedo dialed her mom, fingers hovering over the call button as her mind raced.
How exactly was she supposed to phrase this without sounding like she was about to do something… reckless?
Her reflection in the mirror stared back at her, eyes uncertain. For a moment, she saw her younger self, small, scared, and helpless.
---
Seven years ago
The time had come to register for her high school final exams, an event she'd dreaded since middle school.
The government had made public schools affordable. Tuition, uniforms, and even textbooks were covered. Parents only had to pay a small fee, somewhere between 2,000 and 4,500 local currency, depending on the class level.
But final exam fees were a different story.
One exam cost 19,500, the other 22,250, a grand total of 41,750.
It might as well have been a million. The Anozie family had never seen that kind of money, not even close.
Olaedo sat at her old wooden desk, her head bowed. Her heart felt heavy. She wanted to cry, but there were no tears left, she'd already shed them all.
Beside her, Nnenna sat in quiet understanding.
They were two girls from the same cracked street, living in the same struggling neighborhood, both weighed down by the same impossible number.
The only difference was faith.
Nnenna's faith could move mountains; Olaedo's was buried under them.
"Don't worry, Olaedo," Nnenna said softly. "Everything will be fine. All things work together for the good of them that love the Lord, to them who are called according to His purpose. You've given your life to Christ, so trust Him, like you'd trust your father if he were alive."
Olaedo froze.
The words stung. Not because Nnenna meant harm, but because she'd said that.
Her father.
The sermon was nice, Olaedo thought bitterly, but she just had to mention my dad.
And just like that, the tiny thread of peace she'd managed to hold on to snapped.
She forced a small, awkward smile, trying to hide the turmoil inside. It didn't fool Nnenna, but thankfully, her friend knew when to stop talking.
The room settled into silence again. Not an empty one, but a tired, waiting kind of silence.
Thirty minutes later, Olaedo finally spoke. Her voice was quiet but steady.
"Nnenna, I want to start a finance company one day. Maybe even a bank—by the time I turn eighteen."
Nnenna blinked, startled. "A bank?"
"Yeah," Olaedo said with a faint, determined smile. "I don't know how yet, but I'll figure it out. If I get to write these exams, that's great. If not, I'll find a job, help my family, and start saving for it."
For the first time that day, her words felt lighter than her pain—like a small promise to herself that she refused to break.
'Starting a company at eighteen? Is that even possible?' Nnenna thought, her chest tightening. 'Maybe… maybe I should accept that proposal. If I do, I could help her.'
The thought tasted bitter.
Her gaze drifted to Olaedo, studying her friend's face — that stubborn spark in her eyes, the quiet defiance that refused to die no matter how bad things got.
That was what she admired most about Olaedo — her resilience, her courage, her unbreakable spirit.
Then, just as quickly, Nnenna shook her head, her eyes hardening.
'No! I won't throw my life away by getting married at eighteen. I won't! I'll fight beside Olaedo. We'll come out on top together!'
---
As the exam registration day crept closer, the weight of finding the money pressed down on the Anozie family like a storm cloud that never moved.
Mrs. Anozie and Olaedo barely sat down anymore. They ran from one odd job to another, from one relative's house to the next, begging, pleading, hoping.
Some doors opened with kindness. Others slammed shut with words that cut deeper than hunger.
Still, Olaedo kept count — not out of spite, but out of memory.
Those who mocked them, she would remember.
Those who helped, she would never forget.
There were kind relatives who had nothing but still borrowed small soft loans to help. Some called friends and begged on their behalf. Others gave food or prayed for them instead of turning away.
Every act, no matter how small, lit a fire in Olaedo's heart.
Each kindness stitched strength into her bones. Each insult sharpened her resolve.
One day, she promised herself, she would repay the ones who had lifted her — and show the rest that they had underestimated the wrong girl.
---
After weeks of struggle, they finally scraped together ₦35,000.
It still wasn't enough.
Then came the moment Olaedo would never forget.
Nnenna's father — the man who had quietly helped their family before — stepped forward once again.
He worked as an administrator at a small private primary school. The pay was steady but far from comfortable. He could only take small loans, just enough to patch things here and there.
He'd already been saving up to pay for Nnenna's exam fees, and when the time came, all he needed was a little extra to complete it.
One quiet evening, he returned home to find his daughter sitting on the worn-out sofa, her face drawn with worry.
"Nnenna," he asked gently, dropping his bag beside her, "haven't I already paid for your exam? What's wrong, my dear?"
Nnenna rose quickly when she saw him, a small smile of relief crossing her face. "Welcome home, Dad," she said, taking his bag from his hands before he could protest.
She fetched him a cup of water, waited for him to sit, and then blurted it out, her voice trembling with worry.
"It's Olaedo, Dad. Her exam fees aren't complete yet, and the deadline is tomorrow. I don't know how to help her anymore."
Her father listened in silence, his brows furrowing slightly as he nodded. Then, without a word, he stood, reached out, and ruffled her hair, the same way he always did when he wanted her to calm down.
"My little girl," he said softly, a proud smile tugging at his lips, "always thinking of others. You have such a good heart."
He sighed and straightened. "Don't worry. The money I borrowed for your fees was a little more than we needed. I was planning to use the rest to restock the convenience store, but this… this is more important. I'll go see Olaedo's mother now and help them finish up. Warm my food for me, okay? I'll eat when I return."
Nnenna's eyes widened so much that they seemed to double in size. "Dad, are you serious?!"
He chuckled. "Very serious."
"Yeeeeee!" she screamed, spinning in circles like a five year old who'd just been told she could have ice cream for dinner.
Her father could only shake his head, laughing under his breath. Her joy was infectious, and for a moment, he felt grateful that despite everything, his daughter could still smile that freely.
---
Five Months Later
Olaedo passed with flying colors, straight As and Bs, not a single subject below excellent.
Nnenna did well too, her grades glowing with the quiet reward of long nights spent studying beside her best friend.
But before they could even celebrate, another mountain appeared on the horizon, college.
And this time, Olaedo knew the truth she couldn't run from: it was impossible.
She had already made up her mind. School was over. It was time to face reality, to build something, to work, to help her family survive.
But convincing her mother? That was a different kind of test.
That night, after dinner, when her brothers had gone off to do their homework, she took a deep breath and called softly, "Mom, there's something I need to tell you."