What if l try?

The pains of success

That night, she packed her few belongings and slipped out of the compound, into the darkness of Accra.

Abina's days blended together in a haze of fufu, soup, and scrubbing pots. Mama J's chop bar became her haven, and the regular customers grew fond of her quiet efficiency. There was Kwame, the taxi driver, who always left extra coins on the counter, and Aunty Akua, who brought in her sewing to fix torn uniforms.

One evening, as Abina was sweeping the sidewalk, a young man with a bright smile and a camera slung over his shoulder stopped by. "Hey, Abina! You look like a model for my photography project," he joked.

Abina laughed, embarrassed, and went back to sweeping. But the young man, whose name was Idris, kept coming back, chatting with her about everything from Accra's traffic to his dreams of traveling the world.

Mama J noticed the spark of interest in Abina's eyes and nudged her. "Girl, Idris is a good one. You could do worse."

Abina's heart skipped a beat. Could this be the start of something?

Idris started coming by the chop bar more often, and Abina found herself looking forward to his visits. He'd bring his camera, snapping photos of the food, the customers, and sometimes, Abina herself. Mama J teased her, saying she'd be the next big thing in Accra's fashion scene.

One evening, as the sun set over the city, Idris asked Abina if she'd like to join him for a walk along the coast. Abina hesitated, unsure, but Mama J pushed her out the door. "Go, girl! Have some fun!"

They walked in silence, the sea breeze blowing their hair back, until Idris turned to her and said, "I like talking to you, Abina. You're different."

Abina's heart skipped a beat. What did he mean? Was this the start of something?

Abina's cheeks flushed as she looked away, trying to play it cool. "Different how?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Idris chuckled, his eyes crling at the corners. "You just seem... real. Not like anyone I've met in Accra." They kept walking, the waves lashing at the shore, and Abina felt like she was floating. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she might actually belong here.

Idris slowed down, his eyes locking onto Abina's. "I mean it, Abi. You're the first person I've met who doesn't seem like they're putting on a show. You're just... you." Abina's heart was racing, but she felt a sense of calm wash over her. Maybe, just maybe, she'd found someone who saw her for who she really was. They stood there, the waves crashing, until Idris leaned in and whispered, "Can I take you out on a proper date?"

Abina's age and education were definitely priorities. Idris looked taken aback for a moment, then nodded, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "You're right, school comes first. How about I help you with your studies instead? Maybe tutor you in exchange for... food from the chop bar?" Abina smiled, relieved, and playfully rolled her eyes. "Deal, but don't think you're getting free fufu that easy!"

Idris laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "No free fufu, got it! I'll bring my books tomorrow, and we'll tackle maths together." Abina nodded, feeling a spark of excitement. Studying with Idris didn't sound half bad.

The next day while they sat in the corner of the eatery Mama J approached them. Her face was motionless and firm not the usual face we all used to.

Mama J stormed over, hands on hips. "Abina, what's going on here? You're supposed to be serving, not sitting around learning!" Abina jumped up, eyes downcast. "Sorry, Mama J, I was just—" Mama J cut her off, her voice stern. "No excuses! Idris, I'm sorry, but Abina's here to work, not study, Maybe you can come back another time.