The next morning, Mary woke up early, her stomach twisting with nerves. Today, Mama Mary said, a young man named Tunde would visit. He wasn't dangerous, Mama Mary assured her, but he was an opportunity—a chance to practice the lessons she had been taught.
Mary straightened her dress in the cracked bedroom mirror. She wanted to look neat and confident, even if her heart felt uncertain.
When Tunde arrived, Mama Mary greeted him warmly, offering him a seat. Mary followed her mother's example, smiling politely and keeping her voice calm.
"Mary, this is Tunde," Mama Mary said. "He's here to discuss… opportunities."
Tunde gave a small nod and a friendly smile. Mary noticed he seemed polite but also curious, as if he could see right through people.
As the conversation began, Mary felt her nerves sharpen. She remembered Mama Mary's advice: observe, think, and always stay calm. She listened carefully, asking questions when necessary, but never revealing too much about herself.
By the end of the visit, Mary had learned something important—not from Mama Mary, but from Tunde himself. People respected confidence, even when it was quiet. She realized that being smart and careful didn't have to feel wrong—it could feel like control, like standing on her own two feet.
That night, Mary told Mama Mary everything. Her mother listened, smiling as if she already knew.
"You did well, Mary," Mama Mary said, smoothing her daughter's hair. "Today was only the beginning. Remember, every step counts. You are learning more than you think."
Mary lay in bed afterward, thinking. Perhaps this journey wouldn't just be about following her mother's advice. Perhaps it would be about finding her own way—learning from every person she met and every choice she made.
And maybe, just maybe, she could do it her own way.