Adaugo did not decide to apply to a university in Korea in one dramatic moment. It wasn't like the movies where someone suddenly realizes their destiny while standing in the rain. For her, it was quieter than that. The idea grew slowly, like a seed planted somewhere in her mind that she didn't even remember planting.
It started with videos. Campus tours, student vlogs, "day in my life" videos, winter fashion videos, Korean language lessons, dorm room tours. She watched them late at night in her room with the lights off and her earphones in, the glow from her phone lighting up her face in the dark.
Sometimes she imagined herself in those videos — walking across a large university campus in a long coat, holding books, speaking a language that wasn't English or Igbo, living in a place where nobody knew her story.
A place where she could become someone new.
She never told her mother about these thoughts. Not because her mother was strict, but because her mother was her whole world. Telling her felt like admitting she wanted to leave that world.
And she wasn't ready for that conversation.
The Computer Lab
The real decision started in the school computer lab.
Her school had a modern computer lab with fast internet, and students used it mostly for assignments and research. But after finishing her assignments one afternoon, Adaugo typed something into Google that changed everything:
"How to study in Korea as an international student."
She didn't expect much, but what she found surprised her. There were scholarships, international student programs, English-taught courses, exchange programs, and application guides.
It suddenly felt possible.
Not easy, not simple, but possible.
She spent weeks researching quietly. She wrote down university names, application deadlines, requirements, scholarship options, and language requirements in a small notebook she kept hidden in her school bag.
One university kept appearing again and again in her research — Korea University.
The campus looked like something from a movie. Old stone buildings, large libraries, tree-lined paths, students sitting on the grass reading books. It looked peaceful and serious at the same time.
She watched so many videos of the campus that she started recognizing buildings.
"That one is the library," she whispered to herself one day while watching a campus tour video. "That one is the student center."
It started to feel familiar, even though she had never been there.
Her Mother's Long Hours
Around that time, her mother became even busier at the restaurant. They were opening a new branch, and her mother was involved in everything — menu planning, kitchen design, hiring staff, training cooks, meeting suppliers, and talking to investors.
Some nights she came home very late and very tired.
One night, Adaugo was in the kitchen warming food when her mother came in and dropped her bag on the chair and sat down heavily.
"You look tired," Adaugo said.
"I am tired," her mother replied. "Opening a new restaurant is like giving birth again."
Adaugo laughed. "So I am your first child and the restaurant is your second child?"
Her mother smiled. "No. The restaurant is the child that gives me money. You are the child that spends the money."
They both laughed.
But then her mother looked at her carefully and said something unexpected.
"You will not always live here with me," she said.
Adaugo frowned. "Where will I go?"
"You will grow up, go to university, maybe travel, maybe work in another country. Children always leave."
"I won't leave you," Adaugo said quickly.
Her mother smiled, but the smile looked sad. "Everybody leaves eventually."
That sentence stayed in Adaugo's mind for days.
The Application
The application process was long and stressful. She needed transcripts, recommendation letters, a personal statement, passport documents, and many forms she did not fully understand at first.
She did most of the work alone in the school computer lab. One teacher, her Literature teacher, noticed she was always filling forms and writing essays.
"What are you always working on?" the teacher asked one afternoon.
"I'm applying to universities," Adaugo replied.
"Which universities?"
She hesitated before answering. "In Korea."
The teacher looked surprised but then smiled. "That is very far."
"I know."
"You are a good student," the teacher said. "If you write your essay well, you have a chance."
That night, Adaugo worked on her personal statement for hours. She wrote about growing up with a single mother, about the restaurant, about school, about wanting to see the world, about identity and feeling like she belonged to more than one place even though she had never left Nigeria.
She didn't realize she was also writing about her father without mentioning him.
She submitted the application on a quiet Sunday afternoon while her mother was sleeping in her room after a long week at work.
When she clicked Submit, her heart started beating very fast.
It felt like she had just made a decision that would change her life, even though she didn't know yet if she would be accepted.
Waiting
Waiting for a response was harder than applying.
Every morning she checked her email before school. Every afternoon she checked again. Every night before sleeping, she checked again.
Weeks passed.
Life continued normally — school, restaurant visits, homework, family calls, weekend shopping with her mother. But inside her, there was a quiet tension, like she was standing at the edge of something but couldn't see what was on the other side.
One evening, she and her mother were sitting in the living room watching a movie when her mother suddenly said, "You have been very quiet these days."
"Have I?" Adaugo asked.
"Yes. You are always thinking about something."
Adaugo tried to laugh it off. "Maybe I am thinking about WAEC."
Her mother nodded slowly but didn't look convinced.
"You know you can tell me anything," her mother said.
"I know," Adaugo replied.
And she did know.
But she still didn't tell her.
The Email
The email came on a Tuesday afternoon in the school computer lab.
She almost didn't check her email that day because she had a Biology assignment to finish, but something told her to open it.
When she logged in, she saw it immediately.
Subject: Admission Decision
Her hands suddenly felt cold.
She opened the email slowly.
She read the first line.
Then she read it again.
Then again.
She covered her mouth with her hand and leaned back in the chair.
She had been accepted.
For a few seconds, she just stared at the screen. The computer lab was noisy, students were talking, chairs were moving, someone was laughing, but everything sounded far away.
She had been accepted to Korea University.
She felt excited, scared, happy, and guilty at the same time.
Because now she had to tell her mother.
Telling Her Mother
She waited three days before telling her.
Three long days.
She wanted to find the right moment, but there was never a right moment to tell your only parent that you might be moving to another country.
She finally told her on a Sunday evening after dinner.
Her mother was sitting at the dining table going through some restaurant documents when Adaugo sat down opposite her.
"Mommy, I want to tell you something," she said.
Her mother looked up immediately. "Why do you sound like that? What happened?"
"Nothing bad," Adaugo said quickly. "I just need to tell you something."
Her mother closed the file she was reading and focused on her fully.
"Okay. Tell me."
Adaugo took a deep breath.
"I applied to a university."
Her mother smiled. "That is good. Which one? University of Lagos? Covenant? Maybe abroad?"
Adaugo swallowed.
"Yes… abroad."
Her mother's smile faded slightly. "Where?"
"In Korea."
Silence filled the room.
Her mother did not speak for several seconds.
"You applied to a university in Korea," she repeated slowly. "Without telling me?"
"I didn't think I would get in," Adaugo said quietly.
Her mother leaned back in her chair and looked at her for a long time.
"Did you get in?" she asked finally.
Adaugo nodded slowly. "Yes."
Her mother looked down at the table and did not speak for a long time.
Adaugo's heart was beating fast. She couldn't tell if her mother was angry, sad, or just surprised.
Finally, her mother spoke.
"You really want to leave Nigeria and go that far away?" she asked quietly.
"It's a good school," Adaugo said softly. "And I want to see the world."
Her mother nodded slowly but still did not look at her.
"When do you have to go?" she asked.
"Next year."
Her mother finally looked up at her.
"You are growing up faster than I expected," she said.
"I am not leaving you," Adaugo said quickly. "I will always come back."
Her mother smiled, but there was something emotional in her eyes.
"I know," she said softly. "But life sometimes takes people far away from where they started."
That was the second time her mother had said something like that.
Adaugo didn't fully understand why her mother always sounded a little sad whenever they talked about the future.
But she would understand later.
Much later.