The afternoon sun dipped low as Jamila walked home, her footsteps slower than usual. The day replayed itself in her mind—the friendly voice of her new classmate, the way the teacher had praised her answer, the strange lightness she felt leaving the school grounds. It all felt unreal, like something fragile she was afraid might disappear if she thought about it too much.
When she reached home, Binta was in the kitchen, the soft sound of simmering stew filling the air. She turned as Jamila entered, immediately noticing the difference in her daughter's expression.
"How was school?" Binta asked, trying to sound casual.
Jamila hesitated, then smiled. "It was… good. I made a friend."
Binta paused, surprised, then returned the smile—this time warmer, fuller. "That's wonderful," she said. In her heart, she whispered a quiet prayer of gratitude. She had worried endlessly about Jamila, about the way the girl often kept her feelings locked away. Seeing this small change gave her hope.
Later that evening, Jamila sat on her bed, books spread out before her. She opened her notebook, intending to study, but instead found herself writing her name over and over on the last page. Each time, she imagined the future attached to it—possibilities she had never allowed herself to consider before.
She thought about the girl she had met, about how easy it felt to talk, how natural it was to laugh. Maybe she didn't have to be invisible anymore. Maybe she didn't have to shrink herself to fit into spaces that were too small.
That night at dinner, her father talked about his day, Binta listened, and Jamila joined in more than she usually did. The house felt lighter, filled with a sense of togetherness that had been missing for a long time.
But as Jamila lay in bed later, staring at the ceiling, she knew this was only the beginning. Change was rarely smooth, and new paths often came with challenges. There would be days when fear returned, days when doubt whispered in her ear. Still, something inside her had shifted.
She closed her eyes, holding onto the feeling of hope—the kind that didn't promise perfection, only progress. Tomorrow would bring its own lessons, its own trials. But Jamila was ready to face them.
For the first time, she wasn't just moving forward because she had to.
She was moving forward because she wanted to. She also missed Fatima and gave her call
And with that, she drifted into sleep, standing quietly at the edge of a future that was finally beginning to open its
elf to her.