Morning crept in on the smell of akara frying in the street below. Adanna blinked awake to the sound of her younger cousin banging on the door.
"Adanna! If you're not getting ready, I'm eating your share!"
She groaned, rolling over. Sleep clung to her like a heavy blanket, but work waited. Always work. Always chasing time, chasing money, chasing dreams.
Her gaze fell to the Purple Jar on her desk. The coins glimmered weakly in the light , still far too few to reach Seoul. A small ache twisted in her chest.
Dragging herself up, she slipped her notebook into her bag, the one place her family never touched. Nobody knew about the letters. Not her cousins, not her mother, not even her closest friend. Those pages were hers alone. A secret world where she could speak to someone who would never answer.
On the bus ride to work, with the driver blasting highlife music, she opened the notebook again. The words stared back at her, raw and unpolished, but honest.
"Dear Jinwoo, sometimes I feel invisible in this city. I wonder if you ever do too, even while the whole world stares at you. If we met, you'd never notice me. But still, I notice you."
Her thumb lingered on the page. She smiled faintly, then shut the book as the bus jolted to a stop.
By afternoon, the café where she worked buzzed with customers. Adanna balanced trays of jollof rice and pepper soup, ignoring the ache in her feet. A group of students huddled at a corner table, squealing over a phone.
"Ehn! Did you hear? They're doing a raffle , free tickets to Eclipse7's concert in Seoul!"
Adanna froze mid-step. Slowly, she turned her head.
"Are you serious?" one of them gasped.
"Yes oh! My sister's friend has already entered. It's on the fan site ,look!"
Her pulse hammered. She forced herself to finish serving her table before slipping behind the counter, where the café's old computer sat unused. Hands trembling, she pulled up the page.
There it was. Bold purple letters, almost too good to be true:
Win Front-Row Tickets to Eclipse7's Seoul Concert. Flight Not Included.
Her heart stuttered. Front row. Seoul.
But reality slammed back hard, flight not included. What use were tickets if she couldn't even cross continents?
Still… her fingers hovered over the keyboard. Her dream jar was half-full. She was halfway there. And halfway was better than nowhere.
She typed in her name.
Entered her email.
And clicked Submit.
For a long moment, she just stared at the screen, her reflection faint in the glass.
It was impossible. Laughable, even. Lagos girls didn't just win golden tickets to Seoul.
And yet, when she closed her eyes that night, her heartbeat whispered
the same dangerous promise:
What if… just what if?