Rellaaaa 🤧❤️ first of all — I'm genuinely proud of you for writing this. Like FOR REAL proud. This is actually a very strong Chapter One. The emotions, the struggle, the rain symbolism, the reveal — everything is working.
I'll polish it while keeping your voice, your vibe, your Naija energy, not turning it into "AI English professor novel" 😌✨
Here we go:
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CHAPTER ONE
"Oga, these oranges are fresh now…"
"I can't sell five for ₦300. My mum and I plucked them directly from the tree."
The man barely glanced at me.
"See, are you selling or not?"
"Oga please now… it's five for ₦1,000."
He scoffed.
"Oya, take ₦800?"
"Sir, they're very juicy. See how big they are now!"
Slowly, I watched another customer walk away without buying anything.
He left like I was trying to scam him.
Like my desperation was suspicious.
Like poverty was contagious.
---
The weather was changing.
The clouds were getting thick.
The wind was growing heavier.
This kind of weather didn't need a forecast to tell you — heavy rain was coming.
---
I saw a woman running toward the umbrella stand.
As she came closer, I recognized her.
"Mum!"
I rushed forward to help her lower the bowl from her head. The wind was so strong that the umbrellas beside us trembled violently, like they were preparing to fly away.
"Muna, quickly go and hold those umbrellas before the wind carries them!"
"Mum, let me help you first—"
"Don't worry about me. Pack the oranges! I'll look for a keke."
"Keke?" I turned sharply.
"Mum… I didn't make any sales today."
"I don't think we have money for transportation."
"Well, we can't trek. The rain will beat us."
Before I could respond —
WHOOSH.
One of the umbrellas flew into the air.
"Nooooo!"
I ran after it.
"Muna! Leave it!"
"Just carry the oranges — there's no time!"
"Rain will soon start falling!"
Pls hurry
(No. 14 Hope Street
Amokwe, Aba South, Abia State )
By the time we reached home, the sky had already opened.
Rain poured heavily, drumming against the zinc roof of the small apartment we called home.
One room.
One toilet.
One wardrobe space we had converted into a kitchen.
No furniture.
Just two plastic chairs standing proudly in the middle of the room like they were doing their best.
And somehow…
They were enough.
Mum dropped her bags and sat down slowly.
I stood there, staring at her.
Disappointed.
Frustrated.
Defeated.
"Mama… I didn't make any sales."
She looked at me — an almost playful, unserious look.
"My daughter… there are always bad days."
"Tomorrow will be better."
"Bad days for how long, Mum?"
"I told you the place we stay is too hidden. We need to hawk for better sales."
"I don't know why you refused to let me hawk."
"I would have made more sales than you."
Mum laughed softly.
"Oh really?"
"Well… you're right."
"If you had gone, you probably would have made more sales."
"With those long legs of yours."
"And all that energy."
I folded my arms.
Then she said something that froze my heart.
"And who told you I didn't make sales?"
"I did."
"I know you would have done better…"
"But I had to go somewhere."
"To see your father."
"WAIT — WHAT?!"
"Mum!"
"You went to see Dad without me?!"
"Mum, that's not fair now!"
"I don't like this!"
"Calm down."
"You'll always get to see him."
"Besides… he wasn't even awake when I got there."
"I only spoke with the doctor."
My stomach tightened.
"What did they say?"
Mum slowly sat down.
Her mood shifted instantly.
Her eyes filled.
"My dear…"
"They said we have to pay for dialysis immediately."
"Or they'll stop the treatment."
Everything inside me went cold.
My heart pounded violently.
My hands began to shake.
Sweat gathered on my skin.
Fear.
That terrible, familiar fear.
KNOCK.
Mum and I looked at each other.
Confused.
"Muna… are you expecting someone?"
"No, Ma."
Are you sure you didn't invite Zaniab or Daniel to came
Mummy, it's come, not came.
"And no… I didn't invite them."
"I haven't even seen them in two weeks."
"Well…"
"It can't be hospital people."
"So who is it?"
KNOCK KNOCK.
This time louder.
More urgent.
"What if it's Baba Uche?"
"No…"
"He said he'll collect rent at the end of the month."
She adjusted her wrapper nervously.
"Let me check."
She opened the door.
And froze.
A tall man stood outside.
Black suit.
Calm face.
Umbrella in hand.
"Good evening, Ma'am."
"I believe this is the residence of Mr. and Mrs. Okorie?"
Mum frowned cautiously.
"Yes… who are you?"
"My name is Mr. Charles."
"I'm a representative of Kingsbridge International Academy."
Mum stiffened.
"We don't know any academy, sir."
"I think you're at the wrong house."
He smiled gently.
"Your daughter does."
Silence.
"Some months ago, Kimberly Munachimuso Okorie applied for our scholarship program."
"And completed an online entrance examination."
Mum's lips parted slowly.
"She ranked among the top candidates out of thousands of applicants."
"Because of her outstanding performance…"
"She has been offered a full scholarship."
My breath caught.
"A full scholarship?" Mum whispered.
"Yes, Ma'am."
"It covers tuition, hostel accommodation, meals, books, uniforms…"
"And transportation within the school."
The room felt like it was spinning.
"Muna?!"
She turned sharply toward me.
"When did you do this?!"
"What is this man saying?!"
"Mummy… I…"
"After my JAMB result came out…"
"I used Zaniab's phone to register for one scholarship I saw online."
"I didn't even think it was real…"
Mr. Charles nodded.
"We attempted to contact Miss Kimberly multiple times."
"But the number remained unreachable."
"When weeks passed without response…"
"The academy decided to visit the home address."
He stepped inside.
Closed his umbrella.
And handed me a file.
"Miss Kimberly…"
"This contains your admission documents."
"And academy details."
Then he turned to Mum.
"And one more thing."
"The Kingsbridge Scholarship Program supports brilliant students from low-income families."
"Selected students receive a monthly student support fund."
My head snapped up.
"Monthly… support fund?"
"Yes."
He reached into his bag.
And handed Mum an envelope.
Mum stared at it.
Like it was unreal.
Like it might disappear.
Like it was a miracle disguised as paper.
"It was a pleasure meeting you."
"I apologize for arriving late."
"I had difficulty locating the address."
"Miss Kimberly…"
"We look forward to hearing from you."
"Have a wonderful evening."
He walked out.
Door closed.
Silence swallowed the room.
"Mummy…"
"What just happened?"
She looked at me.
Looked at the envelope.
Looked at the documents.
And collapsed.