Life abroad taught me one lesson very quickly: hope alone was not enough.
Every morning began before sunrise. I would wake up to the sound of alarms and tired breathing in a shared room that never truly felt like home. I dressed quietly, careful not to wake anyone, and prepared myself for another day of running between lectures and work.
Studying was demanding. Working was exhausting. Doing both together felt impossible.
There were days I sat in class with my stomach empty, pretending to take notes while dizziness blurred the words on the board. There were nights I returned from work with aching feet, only to open my books again because failure was not an option. I reminded myself constantly why I came here. I reminded myself of the life I had left behind.
Still, loneliness found me.
Back home, noise had been my enemy. Here, silence was worse. Calls with family became less frequent. Everyone was busy with their own struggles, and I learned to keep my pain to myself. Crying became something I did in the bathroom, quietly, with water running so no one would hear.
He noticed before anyone else did.
At first, our conversations were simple. Short greetings. Complaints about work. Jokes about how tired we always were. But slowly, he started asking questions that mattered. He asked if I had eaten. He asked how my classes were going. He listened without trying to fix me.
That was how trust grew.
He had his own struggles too. Dreams delayed. Responsibilities heavy on his shoulders. Sometimes we sat together without speaking, just sharing the comfort of not being alone. In those moments, I felt understood in a way I hadn't felt in years.
Love didn't announce itself.
It arrived quietly, in shared meals, in late-night talks, in the way he walked me home when the streets felt unsafe. I didn't plan to fall for him. I didn't even want to. I was focused on survival, not romance.
But hearts do not always follow plans.
When we finally admitted our feelings, fear followed immediately. We both knew how fragile our lives were. No money. No stability. No guarantees. Yet, holding back felt harder than moving forward.
So we chose each other.
For a while, life felt lighter. Not easier, but bearable. We shared what little we had. Encouraged each other when one of us wanted to give up. In his presence, I found strength I didn't know I still had.
Then everything changed again.
I noticed the signs slowly. Fatigue that felt different. Nausea that refused to leave. A fear I tried to ignore. When the truth finally became clear, I sat alone on my bed, staring at the wall, my hands shaking.
I was pregnant.
The world did not stop. My problems did not pause. Fear swallowed every other emotion. I thought about my studies, my job, my family back home. I thought about shame, judgment, and disappointment.
I told no one.
Not him.
Not my family.
No one.
I carried the secret alone, pretending everything was fine while my heart raced with every passing day. At night, I placed my hand on my stomach and whispered apologies to a life that had come too early.
I was terrified.
And I did not yet know that this secret would shape the rest of my life.