Zuhra was no stranger to competition chairs, the MC's call, and the blinding stage lights. But today, her heart was heavier than ever. Before thousands of people stood European judges who could change her destiny. Yet the deepest pain — her parents weren't there.
She closed her eyes, remembering her father, Brigadier Imran, who had never accepted her singing. Today, she had to sing not just for herself, but to prove to him that her heart was never wrong. Clutching the microphone with her sweaty palms, she whispered a prayer, then lifted her head.
"Next contestant… Miss Zuhra Ahmed!" the MC's voice thundered through the hall.
The hall fell silent. All eyes locked on her. Some were filled with wonder, others with anticipation. Her friends — Rushna and Amla — waved their hands, cheering and giving her courage.
Then came the roar of the crowd:
"Zuhra! Zuhra! Zuhra!"
Her heart fluttered — caught between fear and resolve. She took a deep breath, raised the mic to her lips, and began.
Her voice poured out soft and sweet, in Hausa:
"My heart speaks, but the world does not hear…
Listen to me — my heart seeks freedom…"
The stage lights bathed her, turning her into a star in the galaxy of the contest. The audience froze, even their breathing hushed. The judges closed their eyes, some scribbling notes, but their faces revealed awe.
When she finished the verses, silence erupted into thunderous applause. The hall rose to its feet, shouting her name.
"Bravo!" a professor from Europe exclaimed.
"Excellent!" a female judge from Paris said with delight.
Then an elder from the London School of Music stood, holding the golden trophy, and presented it to her before everyone.
"Congratulations, Miss Zuhra. With this golden trophy, you have earned a full scholarship abroad. You are the voice the world has been waiting for."
Zuhra accepted the trophy, tears glistening in her eyes — not of fear, but of joy. And in her heart, she whispered just one word:
"Daddy… this was never a mistake. This is me."