ut it wasn't much. Every naira mattered now. She clutched her small bag tightly as she navigated the unfamiliar streets, hopping from one crowded bus to another. The bustling city overwhelmed her sen

hen the work slowed, feeling trapped in a cage made of routine and unfulfilled hopes. Was this her life now? Would this be the extent of her existence? The thought gnawed at her insides. She wasn't living, she was surviving. And barely, at that. One evening, after completing the mountain of chores Ronke had assigned her, Darego sat quietly at the edge of her mattress, clutching one of the few books she had managed to keep from the orphanage. The words blurred as tears filled her eyes, not from the fatigue but from the ache of longing, a longing to learn, to grow, and to prove that her life could mean something. That night, she made up her mind to speak to Ronke about going to school. The following day, as Ronke sat on the couch scrolling through her phone, Darego hesitated in the doorway, gathering the courage to approach her. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her palms were clammy. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward. "Ma," she began softly, her voice trembling. Ronke looked up, raising an eyebrow. "What is it now?" Darego swallowed hard and clasped her hands together. "I... I was thinking, maybe I could go to school. I don't mind starting in secondary school or even being home-schooled. I just really want to learn." Ronke's face twisted into a scowl. "School? Do you think I'm running a charity here? Where do you expect me to get the money for that?!" she snapped, her voice rising. Darego flinched but stood her ground. "I can contribute. I've been saving- " "Saving what?!" Ronke cut her off, standing abruptly. "Do you know how much school costs? Even if I had money, I have my own needs. I need shoes, bags, and other important things. You think your education is more important than that?" The harshness of Ronke's words hit Darego like a slap. She stared at the woman in stunned silence, her chest tightening. She had expected resistance but not this level of indifference. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away, refusing to cry in front of Ronke. "Yes, ma," she murmured, lowering her head and stepping back into her room. Once inside, Darego sank onto her mattress, her heart heavy with disappointment. She had known deep down that Ronke wouldn't support her dream, but hearing it so blatantly crushed her. For hours, she sat in silence, staring at the walls of her small room, replaying Ronke's harsh words in her mind. But Darego wasn't one to give up easily. If there was one thing she had learned from Mrs. Chinasa, it was to keep pushing forward, even when the odds were stacked against her. Wiping away her tears, she began to formulate a plan. She decided that whenever Ronke wasn't around, she would venture out and search for opportunities. It didn't have to be a formal school, it could be anything, night classes, a community center, or even someone willing to teach her in exchange for work. She still had the small amount of money she had saved from Ronke's meager payments, and she could use it for transportation. The following week, Darego waited for the right moment. One morning, when Ronke announced that she was heading out for the day and wouldn't be back until evening, Darego seized the opportunity, deciding it was finally time to put her plan into action. She quickly finished her chores, changed into her neatest outfit, tied a scarf around her hair, slipped on her worn sandals, and stepped out of the house, out into the bustling streets with nothing but determination and a little money in her pocket. The midday sun bore down on her as she began walking from one corner of the neighborhood to another, asking anyone who would listen if they knew of any affordable classes or lessons. At first, people were polite, offering her vague directions or suggesting schools that were well beyond her means. Her sandals scraped against the hot pavement as she wandered into areas she Had never been before, each step filled with hope that the next inquiry would lead to something promising. Walking through the bustling streets, Darego felt a mix of fear and determination. She didn't know where to start, but she promised herself she wouldn't return home empty-handed. She stopped at a small kiosk to ask the vendor if he knew of any local schools or learning centers that might accept someone like her. The man scratched his head and suggested she try the community center a few streets away. Darego thanked him and made her way there. When she arrived, she found a modest building with a faded signboard that read "New Horizons Learning Center." Her heart lifted as she approached the entrance, hoping this might be the break she needed. Inside, a kind-faced woman sat behind a desk piled high with papers. "Good afternoon, ma," Darego said, her voice shaking. The woman looked up from her paperwork and smiled. "Good afternoon, my dear. How can I help you?" "I'm looking for...I'm looking for any lesson classes I can take, somewhere I can learn. I don't have much money, but I'm willing to work hard," Darego explained, her eyes pleading. The woman studied her for a moment before nodding. "We have evening literacy classes here for young adult, but they aren't free. Here's our pricing." The woman gave her a quick once-over, then gestured to a brochure on the desk. Darego picked up the brochure with trembling hands and scanned the fees. Her heart sank as she realized the cost was far beyond what she had saved. She glanced back at the woman, her voice barely above a whisper. "Do you... have any scholarships or discounts?" The woman shook her head curtly. "No. You pay, or you don't attend." Disheartened, Darego thanked her and left, clutching the brochure tightly in her hand. She walked to two more places, each time receiving the same response, the fees were simply too high. The small amount of money she had saved from Ronke's meager payments wasn't enough to even scratch the surface of what they were asking. By the time Darego began her journey back home, the sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the streets. Her legs ached from walking, and her throat was dry, but it was the heaviness in her chest that hurt the most. She replayed the conversations in her mind, each rejection chipping away at the fragile hope she had carried with her that day. As she trudged through the streets, she couldn't help but notice the vibrant shops and houses around her, places filled with people who seemed to have everything she longed for. Her eyes lingered on a group of children running down the street, their laughter ringing out as they played a game of tag. It reminded her of the simpler days at the orphanage when she and the other children would create their own joy, even in the midst of hardship. When Darego finally got back home, she slipped inside quietly, careful not to make a sound. She sank onto her mattress and stared at the ceiling, the weight of the day pressing down on her. She thought about the lesson fees, how even the simplest education seemed like a luxury she couldn't afford. "Why is everything so expensive?" she whispered to herself, her voice breaking. Tears welled up in her eyes as she hugged her knees to her chest. The day had been a failure, and it was hard not to feel defeated. But even in her sadness, a small voice in her heart reminded her of Mrs. Chinasa's words, "No matter how tough it gets, don't give up. Keep going." Darego wiped her tears and took a deep breath. She couldn't let today's failure stop her. If she couldn't afford the classes she found, then she would keep looking. Somewhere, somehow, there had to be an opportunity for someone like her. The resolve began to build in her heart again, fragile but present. She whispered a prayer for strength, then closed her eyes, determined that tomorrow would bring new possibilities. One Failed attempt didn't mean the end of her journey, it was only a detour on the road to something greater. The next day she went out in search of an affordable education center, unluckily for her it was the same result as yesterday. The day was almost over and Darego dragged her tired body back home, the weight of her failure pressing down on her like a heavy cloak. Her legs felt weak, and her chest ached, not just from the physical exhaustion of the day but from the crushing disappointment of yet another dead end. She slumped onto her mattress, her mind spiraling into a dark place she hadn't ventured into before. Her breath hitched as she wiped her face, determination slowly replacing despair. She remembered the piece of paper tucked away in her bag, the one with Abike's number scrawled on it in Mrs. Chinasa's careful handwriting. Darego shot up, her pulse quickening with a renewed sense of purpose. She rummaged through her bag, her hands trembling as she found the crumpled paper. Staring at the number, she realized her next obstacle, she didn't have a phone. Panic bubbled up, but she forced herself to think. There has to be a way. With shaky steps, she stepped outside, the cool evening air brushing against her tear-streaked face. Her eyes darted around the street, scanning for someone who might be willing to help. Her gaze landed on a man leaning against a nearby kiosk, his phone in hand as he scrolled through it. Summoning every ounce of courage she had, Darego approached him. "Excuse me, sir," she began hesitantly, her voice soft and uncertain. The man looked up, his eyes narrowing as he regarded her with suspicion. "What do you want?" "Please... I need to make a call," Darego said, clutching the piece of paper in her hand. "It's very important. I don't have a phone, and I don't know who else to ask." The man frowned, clearly reluctant. "How do I know you won't run off with my phone?" "I promise I won't," she said quickly, her voice cracking with desperation. "I'll stay right here. You can watch me the whole time." The man sighed heavily before handing her the phone, his expression still wary. "Don't try anything funny," he warned. Darego nodded and quickly dialed the number. Her hands trembled as the phone rang once... twice... three times. Her heart raced as she waited, praying someone would pick up. On the fourth ring, the call went unanswered. She glanced at the man nervously. "Please, can I try again?" she asked. "Fine. But make it quick," he grumbled. She dialed again, her hope dwindling with each ring. By the fifth attempt, the man snatched the phone from her hand. "That's enough," he said curtly. "I've been patient, but I'm not running a free call center." "I understand," Darego said quietly, her voice thick with disappointment. "Thank you." The man waved her off, already engrossed in his phone again. Darego turned and walked back into the house, her head bowed. As she closed the door behind her, she let out a shaky breath and leaned against the wall, staring at the piece of paper still clutched in her hand. Why didn't she answer? What if I've lost my only chance? She shuffled back to her room and sank onto her mattress. For a moment, she stared at the paper again, her vision blurry with unshed tears. Then, gently, she folded it and tucked it back into her bag. "Not today," she whispered to herself. "But I'll try again tomorrow." The longer she lay there, the darker her thoughts became. She thought about ending it all, silencing the pain once and for all. What's the point of all this? She wondered bitterly. It wasn't as if anyone would notice if she disappeared. She imagined herself no longer existing, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed like relief. But then another thought crept in, one she wasn't proud of but couldn't ignore. What if I just give in? She remembered the scenes she'd seen on TV of girls on the streets, dressed in Provocative clothes, trading their dignity for survival. The idea turned her stomach, but a voice in the back of her mind whispered, At le