The Letter
Two days later.
Favour sat by the window in their new flat smaller, quieter, far from the noise of Abuja's elite. She was no longer hiding. Just… healing.
A letter arrived that morning.
It was hand-delivered. No stamp. No return address.
She opened it carefully.
Mrs. Okonkwo,
I have watched you closely through chaos, through cruelty, and through your calm defiance. I represent a small women's initiative based in Boston, aimed at empowering African immigrants who face institutional resistance abroad.
We would like to offer you a scholarship and platform to speak,your voice is one we believe the world needs to hear. If interested, join us at the address below, Saturday, 10 a.m.
— A Friend in the Shadows
Favour folded the letter, her eyes misting.
Daniel came into the room, holding two cups of tea.
She didn't say a word—just handed him the letter.
He read it.
Then smiled.
"What are you going to do?" he asked.
She looked out the window where the morning sun painted the sky gold.
"I'm going to rise," she said.