The clicking of empty bottles was the first thing she heard that morning. A sharp crash followed,her father cursing in a drunken slur as he stumbled across the living room.
"Baba, please ---" Her younger sister 's small voice trembled, pleading.
She forced her eyes open. The ceiling was cracked, paint peeling from years of neglect, but it wasn't the house that made her chest ache---it was the sound of her sister's tears.
At nineteen,Amina had grown used to it. The shouting, the bottles,the shame. But today, the weight felt heavier. She slipped from her thin mattress quietly, not wanting to wake her sick mother in the next room.
The kitchen was cold and empty, except for stale bread. She split it into three uneven pieces: the biggest for her sister,the softest part for her mother, the crust for herself.
When she entered the living room, her father was sprawled on the sofa, reeking of cheap alcohol. "Where's my money, girl?" he slurred, not even looking at her.
Amina clenched her first. Your money? Or the little I make to buy Mama's medicine? But she swallowed the words. Answering back only made things worse.
Instead, she picked up her bag.
Inside were her work clothes for the diner, and ---hidden beneath them--- a small notebook filled with lyrics. Her secret. Her lifeline.
"Where are you going?" her father barked.
"To work," she replied calmly,though her heart hammered.
He muttered something about "useless dreamers" and "wasted lives" before drifting back into a drunken haze.
Outside,the sun was already scorching, Lagos buzzing with life, but Amina felt the weight of chains on her shoulders. Chains of poverty, of duty, of broken dreams.
And yet---when she passed the poster on the street corner, she stopped.
"SINGING CONTEST --- Winner Takes #500,000 and a Recording Deal".
Her pulse quickened.
Her mother's medicine. Her sister's school fees. A chance ---however small---at the life she once dreamed of.
Amina touched the notebook inside her bag. For a moment, the noice of the world faded, replaced by a melody only she could hear.
She whispered to herself, a vow only the sky could witness:
"I will sing. Even if it's the last thing I do."
And with that, her story began..