CHAPTER THREE

Somewhere along the way, Amara had quietly let go of science. Not because she couldn’t try anymore, and not because she wasn’t smart but because she believed she wasn’t good enough to belong there… or to become a nurse.

By the time she got into the university, the decision had already been made. She had been admitted to study Theatre Arts.

At first, she thought it was her escape.

In art class, she felt less judged, less compared, and less inadequate. It was a space where she could breathe. But little did she know that Theatre Arts was not an escape route for her. 

It demanded confidence. 

It required a voice.

And Amara was still learning how to find hers.

As time went on, she managed to join her class WhatsApp group and began receiving information from the right sources. 

She started attending  lectures with her fellow hundred-level students.

The classroom buzzed with low conversations as students drifted into their seats. Laughter, whispers, and scattered greetings filled the air.

Amara walked in quietly, her steps careful, her presence almost unnoticed just the way she preferred it. Or at least, the way she had learned to survive.

She found a seat and settled down, keeping her head low.

That was when Iris came to her.

Amara had noticed her before beautiful, confident, the kind of girl people naturally paid attention to. For a brief moment, Amara thought Iris might actually want to talk to her.

She was wrong.

“Well, well… look who we have here,” Iris said, her voice cutting through the noise. 

“Little Miss Quiet.”

Amara froze.

A few students turned immediately, sensing something interesting. The room shifted. Attention moved.

Her grip tightened around her pen, her eyes fixed on her desk as if looking up would make everything worse.

Iris stepped closer, a faint smile playing on her lips.

“I’m surprised you even came today,” she said, her tone laced with mock concern. “After that little performance the other day… I would have just stayed home forever.”

Soft laughter spread across the room.

Amara felt it again that familiar heat creeping up her neck, the heavy weight settling in her chest.

“I mean,” Iris continued, glancing around, “I’ve never seen someone embarrass themselves like that. It was actually impressive.”

More laughter.

The words landed sharp and heavy.

A few students chuckled. Others looked away. No one stopped it.

Amara swallowed hard, her throat dry, her voice nowhere to be found. Her fingers trembled slightly against her desk, but she kept her head down, as if looking up would only make it worse… as if being seen would somehow hurt more than this.

And maybe it would.

But then,

Something shifted.

A tear slipped down before she could stop it.

Then another.

Her vision blurred, the classroom fading into nothing but noise and shadows. The laughter echoed loudly in her head, over and over again.

Her chest tightened.

She tried to breathe normally, to hold it in like she always did, to stay invisible…

…but she couldn’t.

A small, broken sound escaped her lips.

It was soft but in that moment, it felt louder than everything else.

The room grew quieter.

Not completely silent, but enough.

Enough for people to notice.

Amara quickly raised her hand to wipe her face, her fingers shaking, her head still bowed. 

She wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. She wished she could disappear.

But she couldn’t.

She was there.

Seen.

And breaking.

Slowly, she pushed her chair back.

The faint scraping sound cut through the silence.

No one spoke.

No one laughed this time.

Amara stood up, her movements unsteady but deliberate. She kept her head down, avoiding every gaze she could feel burning into her.

One step.

Then another.

Her legs felt heavy, but she forced them forward.

Past the rows of seats.

Past the whispers that had begun again softer now, uncertain.

Past Iris.

She didn’t look at her.

She didn’t say a word.

She just walked.

Quietly.

Slowly.

Until she reached the door.

For a brief second, her hand rested on the handle. Her fingers trembled slightly, but she didn’t turn back.

She couldn’t.

Then she opened the door and stepped out.

The noise of the classroom faded behind her.

And for the first time since she walked in…

Amara let herself breathe.