I've always tried to be on time, but I never seem to get it right. One Tuesday morning, I was late again. As I entered the university courtyard, I noticed Thando standing there—her smile soft, inviting, carrying warmth that felt momentary yet real. Her deep, dark eyes held something else, something quieter, as if they concealed a story I wasn't meant to hear.
For a moment, the world around me stilled. The rustling leaves, the chatter of students, even the distant hum of traffic—everything blurred into insignificance. I could almost picture us walking side by side, exchanging laughter, sharing hushed conversations that only we understood. The thought swelled in my chest, fragile yet hopeful.
I fought to steady myself, my voice uneven as I finally spoke.
Thando met my gaze, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, her smile faded.
Something shifted.
The warmth dissolved, replaced by something colder, something sharp. Her eyes hardened, and before I could process the change, she spit—quick, deliberate, as if erasing the moment before it could become real.
I stood frozen.
The courtyard returned to life—the laughter, the rustling, the movement—but something in me remained still. The weight of her rejection settled in my chest, familiar yet always unexpected. Not again.
Thando turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving behind only the memory of her smile and the sting of what followed.
Chapter 1: A glimmer of Hope
Thando's rejection lingered in my chest, tightening like an old wound. But as the semester unfolded, I found solace in friendships I never thought I'd have.
As the year progressed, I was surrounded by people who genuinely cared about me—friends who asked about my day, listened without judgment, and offered words of encouragement when I needed them most. Their kindness felt real, yet in the quiet moments, doubt crept in.
When I was alone, I found myself questioning everything. 'Were they truly my friends? Or would they, too, turn against me when things got hard?'
The memories of my childhood still clung to me—of those I once trusted, the ones who spoke kindly to my face but whispered cruel words behind my back. Struggles and hardships had always been the reason I was mocked, and no matter how much time passed, part of me still feared history repeating itself.
One sunny Saturday morning, our group gathered to work on a project. All my friends were part of the group project. We headed outdoors, and the air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers.
The warm sunlight cast a gentle glow over everything, and the sound of birds chirping created a soothing melody. As we worked, our conversations flowed easily, like a gentle stream meandering through the countryside.
After we finished, one of my friends turned to me and asked, "Cedric, I wonder why you said you used to be mocked and laughed at. You're so bright and intelligent. Who wouldn't want to be close to you?"
I felt a pang of emotion, and my eyes dropped to the ground. Memories of my past threatened to resurface, but I pushed them back. Instead, I looked up at my friend and smiled weakly. "It's complicated," I said, leaving it at that.
However, his eyes caught mine, and in that shared moment of understanding, a wave of unexpected laughter washed over us.
But as I glanced around at my friends, I felt a sense of gratitude wash over me. They'd become my support system, my safe haven. They'd shared their own stories of struggle and pain, and in doing so, had helped me find the courage to face my own demons.
As we parted ways, I couldn't shake off the feeling that I was still haunted by my past. Memories of loneliness and mockery lingered, refusing to be extinguished. But I knew I wasn't alone. My friends were there to support me, to remind me that I was worthy of love and acceptance.
I arrived at my place, feeling drained but hopeful. As I looked around my room, I realized I was running low on food. Coming from a poor family makes life at the university hard.
Students compete in everything, from food to clothes. This is why you hear stories of students who squander their money and later steal from their roommates. As I pondered this, I sighed, feeling the weight of my responsibilities.
But then I remembered my friends and the way they'd rallied around me. I smiled, feeling a sense of peace wash over me. I realized that life at the university wasn't just about surviving; it was about thriving. And with my friends by my side, I knew I could overcome anything.
Later that evening, as I sat deep in thought, wondering what to do about my dwindling food supply, I heard footsteps approaching my door. The knock was soft, and I shouted, "Who's there?" while making my way to the door. I slowly opened it to find Peter and Chris standing in the hallway, their faces lit up by the faint glow of the evening lights.
"Come on in, guys," I said, stepping aside to let them in. As they sat down, I quickly brewed a fresh pot of coffee, the aroma filling the room. Peter exclaimed, "Oh man, I just love the smell of coffee! No matter how full I am, I just can't resist a freshly brewed cup."
We all laughed, but as the moment settled, Peter's eyes lingered on the nearly empty shelves. His expression darkened, and he turned to me.
"Brother, I noticed you're running low on food."
I nodded, my gaze dropping to the floor, avoiding the concern in his voice. My mind raced—what would he think of me? Taking a deep breath, I lifted my head and forced a weak smile.
"I'm stressed, guys," I admitted, my voice strained. "My mom is doing everything she can to provide for me, and I don't want to burden her by asking for more food. I don't know what to do. But… I'll try to make sure all is well."
Even as the words left my mouth, tears burned at the edges of my vision. My chest tightened, heavy with something I couldn't name. That feeling—it always came when I said things would work out. Because deep down, I knew they wouldn't.
Just then, my phone rang, shrill in the silence. I hesitated for a moment before answering. "Hello?" A deep, soothing voice spoke on the other end. "Hi, is this Cedric?" "Yes, it's Cedric. How can I help you?" I replied, my curiosity piqued.
"Cedric, I just want to let you know that your tuition fees have been taken care of. You can use the money you had set aside for tuition for other essentials, like food." He paused before adding, "I'll email you the proof of payment." With that, the line went dead.
I stood there, stunned, the phone still pressed to my ear. Peter and Chris exchanged a confused glance, and Peter asked, "Who was that?" I shook my head, still trying to process the unexpected news. "I have no idea," I admitted, a mix of emotions swirling inside me.
As I was still processing who could be behind the anonymous payment, I looked up and locked eyes with Chris. He forced a weak smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. His fingers tightened around his cup, his posture stiff, as if holding something back.
"What's wrong, brother?" I asked, watching him closely.
"Nothing," he muttered, barely audible.
Silence settled between us—heavy, stretching just long enough to feel unnatural. Peter shifted slightly, glancing at Chris, then at me. He must have felt it too, the quiet weight of something unspoken.
Chris looked down, his jaw tightening as if he wanted to say more but couldn't. The glow of the evening lights flickered across his face, casting faint shadows that made his expression unreadable.
For the first time, I wondered—was it concern? Was it envy? Or was it something deeper?
I opened my mouth to ask again, but before the words came, Chris stood abruptly.
"I should go," he said, and then left.