Throughout the day, I searched everywhere for Tope. After what happened in class, all I wanted was to talk to her — to explain myself, maybe even apologize. But she was nowhere to be found. I checked the usual places: the library, the back of the dining hall, even the quiet garden behind the hostel blocks. Nothing.
Just when I had given up, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned — and there she was.
"At last, you, you, you!" she said, her voice laced with a mix of mockery and relief.
Caught off guard, I replied, "You what?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she turned and walked away, her expression unreadable.
Something in me refused to let her walk out of my sight again. I rushed forward and gently held her hand. She froze.
"Please," I said, my voice lower now. "Can we be friends?"
She looked down at our hands, then up at me, eyes cautious. "I'm a poor girl," she said plainly. "I don't think I can be friends with you. You're from a wealthy family."
Her words weren't angry — just honest. But they hit me hard.
"I don't care about that," I said quickly. "Don't worry. No matter who you are or where you come from… we're all equal."
She blinked like she didn't expect that response. "Are you for real?"
I nodded. "Yes. I am."
For the first time, she smiled — a real one, warm and curious. "No problem, then," she said.
But I couldn't stop there. "However—"
She interrupted, finishing my thought with a smirk. "…your behavior isn't good at all."
I looked down, embarrassed. "I know. I've been behaving badly. I want to change. I just don't know how."
She didn't hesitate. "Face the problem head-on. Try not doing it for a day. Then another. Clear your mind. Focus. Don't let your past trap your future."
There was something powerful in the way she said it. Like she wasn't just talking to me — like she'd lived it.
"I'll try," I said, feeling something shift inside me. "No problem. I'll really try."
Then, I gathered some courage. "Can I walk you to your hostel?"
She paused, then nodded. As we walked side by side, she gave me directions, pointing out shortcuts and laughing when I got confused.
We talked about everything and nothing. Somehow, it felt easy — like we were friends already. She told me about her dreams to become a doctor, and I told her how I didn't even know what I wanted yet.
At one point, she looked at me and said, "You're different when you're like this."
"Like what?" I asked.
"Like… honest," she said, softly.
That moment stuck with me.
Before we parted ways, she stopped in front of her hostel gate. "Don't forget what I told you," she said, tapping her temple. "Change isn't about big speeches. It's about small choices. Daily."
"I won't forget," I promised.
We said our goodbyes. But this time, it didn't feel like an end — it felt like the beginning of something new.
As I walked back to my dorm under the fading sunset, her words echoed in my mind.
Maybe change wasn't impossible after all.
Maybe I could still become someone worth being friends with.