BETROTHED (10)

She had kept up her end of the promise with the picture of Ziba her mother had given her, but time was running out.

The holidays were coming up, and she knew she had let Mama Yola down. Their last conversation had left Mama Yola sad and bothered, while she had reassured her that God would not forget His own.

She took a shortcut from the Agriculture Department to get to Life Science and then turned abruptly to cross the road. A car blared in anger, and she raised her hand to apologise as it sped past. Her focus shifted back to the road as her shoulder gently brushed against another lady. 

She hurried to the other side and continued brooding. She hated disappointing her mum, but she also felt a knot of worry, what if Ziba rejected her offering of sisterhood?

Amena sighed as she entered her borrowed course hall, the last one before the school holidays commenced. Deep down, she also didn’t want to extend the friendship; she was already known by a lot of people she hadn’t planned for.

“God, make a way,” she whispered.

Hurrying past the hectic traffic, Ziba had almost brushed shoulders with a stranger; they would have collided if not for a fraction of space. She didn’t bother to look back. She had a borrowed course and had carried another course note instead.

She heaved a breath as she hurriedly unlocked her room door and grabbed the course notebook sitting angrily on the table, clearly upset to have been forgotten. She dashed out as quickly as she had entered and took a bike to class.

A habit she usually found amiable was about to work against her as the lecturer, Prof. Wole, was closing the LT hall door.

A voice shouted from a window inside the hall, “Pass the second door to your right, hurry!”

Ziba ran as fast as her athletic build could carry her and made it inside just nanoseconds before the class rep closed the second door.

Outside, she heard protests and pleas as students begged to be let in, each offering different reasons and excuses.

“Thank you,” she breathed.

Ziba noticed the resemblance before sitting down next to the lady who had saved her from missing the last course of the semester, Mama Yola’s carbon copy. She struggled to keep her smile on and focused directly on Prof. Wole.

Amena recognized her immediately; her picture had been in her left-side drawer. She had seen her jump the LT hall side staircase in a bid to get in before the Prof. Wole closed the front doors. She had just sat near the second door and had an empty seat beside her. She also noticed the slight drop in Ziba’s smile, though she tried to keep it together. She knows me.

Amena was in awe of how helpful God is. She smiled, focused her gaze on Prof. Wole, and muttered, “Thank you, Jesus Christ.”