BEFORE THE SKY BREAKS

Chapter2

School environment wasn’t so different from home, if anything it was more chaotic, the noise, people moving from place to place, everything just seems to be happening at the same time, the place just seems like I stepped into another dimension, I mean Lagos was always about the hustle and bustle but still, everything around felt strange but this is my reality now I might as well start to embrace it. Baba and I walked to the hostel, that’s where I’ll be staying until I round up with registration, baba didn’t really buy the idea of me staying in the hostel, his facial expression showed just how irritated he was at the sight of the the hostel, it was a tall brown building, in a dilapidated state the walls on the outside was covered in algae while the inside walls were dark, the once yellow paint was now covered in dirt, the air was stiff and dry, the toilets was just beside the entrance of the common room the stench of urine filled the air, to be honest it wasn’t the best place to stay, I had always said I could stay for a short while but seeing the place I had a change of heart immediately, the rooms were terrible, a small space with over six bunk beds, a very tiny window that I couldn’t phantom how they got any air in, the mattresses looked lifeless on the iron bunk beds, “this is really terrible, you possibly can’t stay here let alone eat or sleep here, this entire building is in ruins! Baba said in an almost angry tone and to be honest I agree with him, I couldn’t stay there it wasn’t even manageable, “We’ll have to stay in a hotel and then try to get an agent” I really was looking forward to staying back alone and getting to know my peers but due to the situation of the hostel I was elated that Baba wanted to book a hotel room staying another second in that building and I will loose my mind.

Things went by fast, I got a place they had a lot of new students so they were a lot of new vacant off campus hostels around, baba stayed until I got the things I needed for the house, cleaned, a part of me was happy we got this time alone this was the longest I had stayed with him alone and I must say the old man was good company, when he left then I came back to reality, everything was back to default, it took me two weeks to get around school and round up with my registration but it was fun, I finally felt like I was around my peers, most of us could relate to our challenges, life was finally beginning to take a new form and shape……I think I may like it here or so I thought.

Resuming school felt… strange. Not in a bad way, just—different. I had finally gotten my space, a tiny but cozy room that smelled like fresh paint and possibilities. I remember lying on that bed the first night, staring at the ceiling, whispering to myself, “You’re really here.”No yusuf or my mother barging in. Just me.

Lectures started faster than I expected. No warm-up, no easing in—just straight into it. I was still figuring out which hallway led where when I met Zara and Ini.

Let me tell you, God has a sense of humor. I don’t know how I, Asabe—the girl who used to ask for permission just to leave the house gate—ended up with two friends like them.

Zara was fire. The kind that didn’t burn you, but lit you up. She walked like the whole campus belonged to her and dressed like her wardrobe was sponsored by a fashion influencer. Zara didn’t just speak her mind—she announced it. Loud, clear, and unbothered. She grew up in Lagos, and honestly? You could tell. She had stories for days about beach parties, concerts, and house parties her parents knew about and didn’t bat an eye.

Ini was different, but just as free. Her vibe was easy. Warm. Funny. A little chaotic in the best way. She was from Port Harcourt and had the kind of relationship with her mum I had only seen in movies—sharing gossip, talking about crushes, everything. I couldn’t even imagine trying that with Mama. I’d probably melt before finishing my sentence.

With them, life just… shifted. They didn’t look at me like I was odd for not knowing the latest slang or hesitating before speaking up in class. They laughed with me, not at me. They never made me feel like I had to perform. I didn’t have to explain why I was still awkward about sleepovers or why I kept my skirts just below my knees. They just let me be.

And slowly, I began to ease up. The version of me that used to hold back in every conversation began to soften. I started laughing louder. Saying what I really thought. Even letting Zara talk me into wearing lipstick one random Thursday (and yes, I blushed the whole day like it was a sin).

But even with all that, I was still Asabe. Still raised with rules, with caution stitched into my skin. I hadn’t lost her—but I was meeting new versions of me too. And I liked her.

Making friends with Zara and Ini didn’t change who I was. It just reminded me that maybe I could be more. That maybe, just maybe, I didn’t have to choose between being the girl I was raised to be and the woman I was becoming.

School and lectures was flowing really well, I had my friends and they had me too, I mean Zara was a big deal in our department although she never was the type to let the praises get to her, she just knew she was that girl no validations needed and that was what I envied the most of her, her ability to live and live bold, loud, unapologetic and authentic not having to overthink and over analyze every small detail just knowing that she was more than enough, sometimes I forget about freewill and live like life had a rule book with specific steps that you had to follow and live by. “Asabe” Zara said in the most delicate yet firm tone “I wish you could see yourself how I do maybe then you’ll learn to loosen up a bit because at the end of the day nobody really send” I laughed not that anything she had said was funny, I laughed because I didn’t have a reply, I laughed at my own foolishness because I was limiting myself not because I couldn’t do more but because I was scared of how much I could achieve but it wasn’t easy letting go of these insecurities.

Sometimes, when I’m around people like Zara and Ini, I feel like I’m playing dress-up in a life that doesn’t fully belong to me.

They’re so sure of themselves. So loudly sure. Zara walks like she owns the sidewalk. Ini laughs like she’s never second-guessed herself a day in her life. And me? I shrink. I laugh too, but mine feels like an echo—like I’m watching the moment from outside, wondering if I fit into it at all.

I think I’ve always had this quiet battle inside me. It didn’t start here. It started long ago, in those small moments that didn’t look like much on the surface—like being told not to talk too much, not to wear certain things, not to draw attention. “A good girl doesn’t do this… a proper girl doesn’t say that.” Little rules, sewn into me like thread. By the time I got older, I couldn’t tell which parts of me were real and which ones were stitched on by fear.

I don’t think people see it when they look at me. They see calm. Poised. Put-together. But inside, I pick myself apart more than I care to admit. Sometimes I look in the mirror and all I see are flaws—hips that don’t curve like Zara’s, skin that isn’t always smooth, a face that I’ve spent years trying to convince myself is beautiful.