If you're expecting a perfect story, you're in the wrong place.
My name is Anna, a Nigerian girl… and this is how it all started.
The first thing I heard that morning was my name.
Not in a calm, normal way.
Not even in a slightly annoyed way.
No.
This one came with intention.
Anna!
I didn't move.
I stayed exactly where I was—flat on my bed, wrapped in my thin blanket, staring at the ceiling like it had personally offended me. The fan above me creaked as it rotated lazily, doing absolutely nothing useful despite all its efforts.
Anna!!
There it was again. Louder this time.
If persistence were a person, it would definitely be my stepmother.
I turned my head slowly and glanced at the clock beside my bed.
Too early for stress.
Too late to pretend I was still asleep.
Quite unfortunate for me don't you think.
I pushed the blanket off my body and sat up, my oversized pyjamas hanging loosely on me. My hair was a complete disaster ..... like I had been dragged through a storm and fought world war 3.
I ran my fingers through it once, then gave up halfway.
Not worth the effort.
Anna, are you deaf?
I rolled my eyes, swinging my legs off the bed.
No. Just selectively responsive.
Of course, I didn't say that out loud.
I wasn't trying to die this early in the day.
The floor was cold against my feet as I stepped out of my room, stretching slightly. The house was already awake—the faint clatter of plates from the kitchen, the smell of fried oil hanging in the air, the distant hum of the generator outside.
Everything felt… normal.
And by normal, I meant tense.
That quiet kind of tension that doesn't need noise to exist.
I walked into the living area and paused for a second, taking in the usual scene.
My elder sister sat at the dining table, dressed like she had her entire life figured out. Neatly pressed clothes, calm expression, phone in hand.
The definition of responsibility.
The family's pride.
Meanwhile, I looked like I had just fought with a lion in my room.
Well that's her business.
My brother leaned against the wall, headphones resting around his neck, fingers tapping lightly against his thigh. His eyes were half-focused, like he was somewhere else entirely.
Future musician.
Or at least, that was the plan.
And somehow, his plan sounded more acceptable than mine.
Interesting.
Anna.
I turned toward the voice.
My stepmother stood by the kitchen entrance, arms folded tightly across her chest, her expression already set in that familiar look—half disappointment, half readiness to complain.
Come here.
I walked toward her, not too fast, not too slow. Just enough to show I wasn't scared… but not enough to start a problem.
Balance.very important
Her eyes scanned me from head to toe.
Slowly.
Critically.
I resisted the urge to spin for her, just to make it easier.
What is this? She asked
I glanced down at myself.
Oversized T-shirt. Loose shorts. Barefoot.
Comfortable.
I don't see anything wrong.
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
At your age?she said
Ah.
There it is. There she goes again
That phrase again.
I almost smiled.
Not because it was funny—but because it was predictable.
At your age, your mates are already doing something meaningful.
At your age, you should know what you're doing with your life.
At your age—
I stopped listening halfway.
Not intentionally.
My brain just refused to keep processing the same speech.
Everything is wrong with you, Anna.
Ouch that hurts.
Not because it was new.
But because it never got old.
I leaned slightly against the wall, crossing my arms loosely.
You've said that before.
Her eyes narrowed.
And I'll keep saying it until you change.
I almost asked what exactly I was supposed to change into.
A banker? A clone of my sister? A quieter version of myself?
But I let it go.
Some arguments weren't worth the energy.
What is going on here?
My father's voice cut through the moment, firm and controlled.
And just like that, everything shifted.
You could feel it.
Even the air adjusted.
I straightened slightly—not out of fear, but out of habit.
He stepped into the room, his presence filling the space without effort. His eyes moved briefly across everyone before settling on me.
Anna.
Just my name.
No extra words.
No softness.
You refused university. He said
Straight to the point.
Of course.
I didn't respond.
Not immediately.
My fingers tightened slightly against my arm.
I had heard this before.
Many times.
And now?
His gaze didn't leave mine.
What exactly are you doing?
That question again.
The one everyone asked.
The one that sounded simple—but never felt that way.
I exhaled quietly.
I'm trying. I responded
It wasn't a full answer.
But it was the truth.
Trying what?
My stepmother added quickly.
Trying to waste time?she asked
I ignored her.
Focus.
I've been applying to training programs.
That got his attention.
Slightly.
What kind of training?
I hesitated.
Not because I didn't know.
But because I knew what would follow.
Still…
Private investigative training.
Silence.
Not shocked.
Not impressed.
Just… silence.
My stepmother let out a short, disbelieving laugh.
Of course.
I didn't look at her.
I didn't need to.
My father's expression didn't change.
He just watched me.
Long enough to make the moment uncomfortable.
And?
That was all he said.
I shrugged slightly.
And… I've been rejected.
More than once.
That part didn't need decoration.
It was already frustrating enough.
How many times?
I thought about it.
Too many to count comfortably.
Enough.
Another silence.
This one felt different.
Less judgment.
More… observation.
I held his gaze.
I'm not stopping.
That was the only part that mattered.
For a brief second—just one—I thought I saw something shift in his eyes.
Not approval.
Not disappointment.
Something else.
Something quieter.
Then it was gone.
We'll talk about this later.
Of course we would.
We always did.
Just never in a way that changed anything.
I nodded once.
Conversation over.
I turned away, walking back toward my room without waiting to be dismissed.
No one stopped me.
No one called me back.
Good.
Back in my room, I shut the door behind me and leaned against it for a second.
The silence felt different here.
Softer.
Safer.
I walked over to my bed and picked up my laptop, opening it slowly.
The screen lit up, reflecting faintly in my eyes.
Inbox.
Another email.
I already knew what it was before I clicked it.
I could almost predict the words.
Thank you for your application…
We regret to inform you…
We wish you the best…
I stared at the screen for a few seconds after reading it.
No reaction.
Not immediately.
Then I let out a quiet breath and closed the laptop.
Rejected.
Again.
I leaned back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
Same ceiling.
Same thoughts.
Different day.
Most people would have stopped by now.
Taken the hint.
Chosen something easier.
Something safer.
But I've never been most people.
I turned my head slightly, my eyes landing on the small notebook by my bedside.
I reached for it and flipped it open.
Pages filled with notes.
Observations.
Random details about people, behavior, patterns.
Things most people didn't notice.
Things I couldn't ignore even if I tried.
I ran my fingers lightly across the page.
They can reject me all they want but am never gonna give up.
A small smile formed at the corner of my lips.
I'm not going anywhere.
Not yet.