Fourteen years. That's how long I stayed at the same school, walking the same halls, seeing the same faces, and dreaming of this moment—graduation. It wasn't just an ending; it was the start of something new, something I had longed for. When the day finally came, I couldn't stop smiling. It felt surreal. My heart swelled with pride, not just for graduating, but for everything it symbolized. My dream had come true.
I stood in my uniform for the last time, staring at my reflection in the mirror.
"I did it," I whispered to myself, my voice trembling with a mix of pride and disbelief.
The ceremony felt like a blur, with cameras flashing, cheers erupting, and my name being called. My parents beamed with pride, their claps louder than anyone else's. "You've made us so proud," my dad said, his voice cracking just slightly.
Yet, as one door closed, another creaked open, and the decisions that followed were anything but simple. Initially, I thought Mechanical Engineering would be my path—an exciting field, no doubt. But reality had its own agenda. Being a girl in that world came with its challenges, ones I wasn't prepared to navigate.The questions, the raised eyebrows, the quiet remarks: "Are you sure? That's not really a girl's field."
So, I pivoted. Computer Engineering seemed like a better fit, one where I could thrive without constantly having to prove myself.
One evening, I voiced my thoughts to my mom over dinner.
"I think I want to switch to Computer Engineering," I said hesitantly.
She looked up, her brow furrowing slightly. "Why the change? You seemed so sure before."
"I don't know," I admitted. "It just feels… right. And less complicated."
She didn't press further, and for that, I was grateful.
Next came the daunting task of choosing a university. My brother's school seemed like the obvious choice, but there was one glaring problem: freedom—or the lack thereof. I craved independence, a space to grow without constant surveillance. So, I chose a university closer to home, a compromise that offered both freedom and familiarity. It wasn't ideal, but it felt right.
The first day was nothing like I had imagined. The campus was vast, the faces unfamiliar. Everything felt foreign, like stepping into a world I wasn't entirely sure I belonged in. Was this what I had been looking forward to all these years? Was this the freedom I had dreamed of? The answer, it seemed, would take time.
Orientation week was a blur of activities, schedules, and introductions.
First week passed, "Name? Department? Hobbies?" became a routine question. I smiled and answered robotically, counting the days until the program ended.I found it exhausting, more mentally than physically. And then, as if by some twist of fate, I stumbled into a group of friends who turned my world upside down.Everything changed when I met them—my group. It started with two, then three, and somehow, by the end of the semester, we were ten.
We clicked almost instantly, so much so that people often asked if we had known each other before university. We hadn't. But somehow, we were inseparable, forming a bond that felt unbreakable or so I thought. By the end of the semester, our group had grown to ten—a crazy, tight-knit circle that did everything together. We studied, played, laughed, supported each other through everything and even got scolded by professors together. It was the kind of friendship I hadn't anticipated but desperately needed.
Amidst this whirlwind of new experiences, I met someone. He wasn't just anyone; he was the cousin of one of my friends Nicole, his quiet demeanor caught my attention and his presence stirred something in me that I couldn't quite place . The problem? I wasn't the only one who noticed.Two of my friends liked him too — Precious and Valerie, which only made things more complicated. I'm not the kind of person who wears my heart on my sleeve, so I kept my feelings hidden.
But I couldn't help myself. I wanted to know him better. Instead of asking my friend for his number, I found a way to get it through another friend in his department—accounting. "Hey Racheal," I asked a friend from his department one day, "can you share his number with me? I just need to ask him something about a project."
The lie felt flimsy, but she didn't question it.
When I finally got his number, my heart raced. I typed out a message, deleted it, then typed it again. Finally, I hit send.
"Hi, this is Ada. I got your number from Racheal. Hope that's okay."
His reply came quickly. "Hey. Yeah, that's fine. What's up?"
I stared at the screen, debating how to continue. But after that first exchange, I hesitated. Days turned into weeks, and I never followed up.
It was a bold move for someone like me, but courage only got me so far. I sent him one message, just one, and then nothing. My hesitation held me back, leaving my feelings in a limbo I wasn't ready to confront.
Still, life moved forward. University life was proving to be a strange mix of excitement and uncertainty. It wasn't perfect, but it was mine, and I was determined to make the most of it.