It was supposed to be a normal Friday.
Classes had ended early.
Sonia planned to stay back for a quiet night in the hostel — maybe journal or maybe sleep.
But everything changed when her roommate barged in with her eyes wide.
> "Your mom is here."
---
Sonia froze.
No call.
Not a text warning.
Her mom was here in person.
By the time she reached the front of the female hostel, there she was.
Madam Deborah Olagoke.
An ironed iro and buba, thick-framed glasses, gold sandals and her usual war-ready purse.
> "Mummy?"
> "You're losing weight," her mom said, not as a question, but an accusation. "You look like you've been fasting for no reason."
Sonia exhaled. Already tired.
---
They sat on the bench near the faculty office.
Her mom didn't waste time.
> "So what exactly is this thing I heard about you crying in fellowship? Your aunt's friend's daughter said you're always quiet. Moody."
> "I'm fine."
> "You're not. And don't tell me it's 'mental health.' That's the white man's nonsense. You better pray harder."
Sonia looked away.
Her voice dropped.
> "Mum... I've been struggling. I don't know what's wrong with me. I feel empty sometimes. I cry without knowing why. And sometimes I feel... I feel like leaving everything."
> "Leaving what?"
> "Everything."
Her mom stared at her like she'd grown horns.
> "Sonia, what is all this rubbish you're saying? You want to kill me abi? You don't know the kind of suffering I went through at your age. And I didn't break down. I didn't have time for all these emotional nonsense."
Sonia blinked, holding tears hostage in her eyes.
> "So… I should what? Pretend I'm okay?"
> "Yes. In this life, you fight. You don't fall apart because of feelings. That's weakness. You're not weak, you're just lazy."
Something snapped in Sonia.
> "I'm not lazy, mum."
> "Then explain what all this drama is. You're eating our money and claiming sadness? What kind of sadness? You're even in church! What are you still looking for?"
---
Her mom's voice carried across the hallway.
Students glanced, some whispering.
But Sonia didn't care anymore.
> "I cut myself, mummy."
The silence? Deafening.
Her mom blinked. Slowly.
> "You what?"
> "You said I'm lazy. But I bleed, mum. On purpose. Because the pain helps me remember I'm still alive."
Her mother's lips parted.
And for the first time in years — she had no response.
---
Sonia stood.
> "Don't worry. I'll call you when I'm better. But until then… stop telling people I'm just tired."
And with that?
She walked away.
Her hands were trembling.
Her heart? Racing.
But she didn't look back.
Because today?
She finally chose truth over silence.