Where Destiny Found Me

CHAPTER ONE: THE LAST GOODBYE

*AISHA POV*

Three weeks later

"You're leaving us," Zainab said. It wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact, delivered the way she delivered everything with the kind of bluntness that came from growing up in Lagos, where sugar-coating anything felt like a luxury we couldn't afford.

We were sitting in Lekki Conservation Centre, on one of the wooden benches overlooking the canopy walkway. It was where we always came when we needed to talk about things that mattered. Something about being suspended above the world, surrounded by trees and the sound of birds, made it easier to say goodbye.

"I'm not leaving you," I said, but even I could hear the lie in my voice. "I'm just... going."

"Same thing," said Chioma, braiding her hair with practiced fingers. Her hands never stopped moving braid, tuck, loop, tighten. She'd been doing this for the entire hour we'd been here. "You're going to America. You're going to forget us. You're going to become one of those girls who comes back home during Christmas break with an American accent and tries too hard to fit in."

Chioma had always been the blunt one. Where Zainab was sarcastic, Chioma was honest in a way that sometimes felt cruel. But I loved her for it. I'd known her since I was seven years old, since we were both terrified of Mrs. Okafor's mathematics class and spent lunch periods hiding in the library instead of facing our fear of long division.

"I would never"

"You will," Chioma interrupted, but she was smiling. "Not because you're a bad person, but because that's what happens. Life happens. You'll make new friends. You'll have experiences we can't have here. You'll live a life that we can only imagine."

The worst part was that she was right. I could already feel it the guilt of leaving, mixed with this electric excitement that I couldn't quite suppress. I'd gotten the scholarship. Full ride. Flights paid for. Accommodation covered. Everything I'd prayed for since I was thirteen years old, sitting in my secondary school library and reading stories about girls who got out.

And now I was getting out, and it felt like betrayal.

"I'll call," I said. "Every week. I promise."

"You'll be tired," Zainab said, not unkindly. She was lying on her back now, staring up at the canopy, her natural hair spread out around her head like a crown. "You'll be adjusting. Making friends. Studying. The time difference will be annoying. And slowly, the calls will become every two weeks, then monthly, then only on holidays. That's not you being a bad friend, Aisha. That's just life."

I wanted to argue, but I couldn't. Because deep down, I knew she was right. I could already feel myself slipping away from them, even though my flight wasn't for another two weeks. Part of me was already in New York, already imagining what it would be like. The guilt and the excitement were tangled together so tightly that I couldn't separate them anymore.

"Come here," Chioma said, dropping her braids and opening her arms. "Stop overthinking. Just let us miss you properly."

So we sat there, the three of us, our legs tangled together on that wooden bench, watching the canopy sway in the Lagos breeze. Zainab on my left, Chioma on my right, and me in the middle where I'd always been. Best friends since we were seven years old, sitting in Mrs. Okafor's primary school class, bonding over our shared love of books and our shared fear of mathematics.

"Tell us about New York," Zainab said softly. "Tell us what you're going to do there."

I closed my eyes and let myself imagine it. The streets lined with yellow taxis. The Empire State Building cutting through the sky like a needle. Snow in winter real snow, not the kind that existed only in movies. Monroe University, with its ivy-covered buildings and its library that apparently had three floors.

"I'm going to study," I said. "I'm going to get good grades. I'm going to make my parents proud. I'm going to come back home better than I left."

"You're already better," Chioma whispered.

"You're going to fall in love," Zainab added, and I could hear the smile in her voice. "It's America. Isn't that what happens in the movies?"

"I'm not going to fall in love," I said firmly. "I'm going to focus on school. I'm going to be responsible."

"Famous last words," Chioma laughed.

We stayed there until the sun started to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Until the mosquitoes started biting and our parents started calling, asking when we'd be home. Until the last possible moment of before turned into the first moment of after.

When we finally got up to leave, Zainab grabbed my hand.

"Write to us," she said. "Even if it's just emails. Even if it's short. Just... don't disappear, okay? Even when it gets hard and it will get hard don't disappear."

I squeezed her hand. "I won't."

I meant it then. I didn't know yet that promises made in the shadow of goodbye are the hardest to keep