THE FILE.
909 Words
Mr Godwin had been waiting for the answer for eleven days.
Eleven days of pretending everything was normal.
Eleven days of opening the same email and closing it again.
The programme had been legitimate from the beginning.
The university had accepted Ada’s preliminary application.
The funding had been arranged.
The placement had been discussed.
But one final approval had been pending.
Tonight, it arrived.
“Everything is confirmed,” the voice on the phone said.
Mr Godwin leaned back in his chair.
“And the sponsorship?”
“Approved.”
“The accommodation?”
“Arranged.”
He smiled.
“And the programme?”
“She’s eligible.”
Mr Godwin closed his eyes.
For a moment, he looked like a man who had just won something.
“Thank you.”
He ended the call.
Then he stood.
“Ada is going to Germany.”
He laughed to himself.
He could already imagine her face.
He reached for the folder.
Then stopped.
The old photograph on his desk caught his attention.
Ada and another girl.
Younger.
Smiling.
He picked it up.
“Amara.”
He remembered hearing that name so many times.
He had never paid much attention to it.
Not then.
He didn’t know that some friendships had a way of surviving long after the people inside them stopped speaking.
⸻
Ada entered the room.
“You called me?”
Her father quickly placed the photograph down.
“Yes.”
She sat.
“What happened?”
He smiled.
“I have something for you.”
He handed her the folder.
Ada looked at it.
Then opened it.
Her eyes moved across the first page.
She stopped.
“Germany?”
Her father nodded.
She looked up.
“Germany?”
“Yes.”
“You’re serious?”
“I don’t usually joke about your education.”
She stood so quickly the chair moved backward.
“Daddy!”
He laughed as she hugged him.
“Careful.”
“You’re the best!”
“I thought I was strict.”
“You are.”
“Good.”
She pulled away.
“What is this?”
“A pharmacy programme.”
She read the details again.
“Germany.”
Her voice became quieter.
“Amara and I used to talk about going there.”
Her father looked at her.
“You still remember that?”
Ada smiled.
“Of course.”
She sat down again.
For a few seconds, she simply stared at the folder.
Then reality returned.
“When?”
“Soon.”
“How soon?”
“After your assessment.”
Her smile faded.
“How soon, Daddy?”
“Three months.”
Ada swallowed.
That suddenly sounded very real.
Her father watched her.
“You wanted this.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you frightened?”
“I don’t know.”
He smiled.
“You’ve never been afraid of school.”
“This isn’t school.”
“No.”
He paused.
“This is life.”
Ada looked down.
The word seemed heavier than Germany.
⸻
Later that night, Ada called Amara.
The number didn’t connect.
She tried again.
Nothing.
She opened their old messages.
The last one was almost three years old.
Don’t forget our Germany plan.
Ada had sent it.
Amara had never replied.
Ada stared at the screen.
She didn’t know why she still had the message.
Maybe because deleting it would make the silence feel final.
She typed:
I might actually be going to Germany.
She stared at it.
Then pressed send.
The message failed.
Ada frowned.
She tried again.
Failed.
“That’s strange.”
She checked the profile.
No picture.
No status.
Nothing.
She sat back.
Three years.
She had told herself Amara was simply busy.
Then angry.
Then distant.
Then somewhere else.
But suddenly, Ada wasn’t sure what she believed anymore.
⸻
Across the city, Adam sat in his car outside a restaurant.
The girl beside him was talking.
He wasn’t listening.
She touched his arm.
“You’re not here.”
He looked at her.
“Sorry.”
“You’ve been doing that for weeks.”
“I know.”
“Is there somebody else?”
Adam almost laughed.
“No.”
“Then what is it?”
He looked through the windshield.
He didn’t know how to explain that sometimes he met someone wonderful and still found himself disappointed.
Not because they had done anything wrong.
Because, somehow, they weren’t her.
He hated himself for it.
He had spent years telling himself it was coincidence.
Different laugh.
Different way of talking.
Different smile.
Different temper.
It was never enough.
He looked at the girl beside him.
“You deserve someone who is actually here.”
She went quiet.
Adam closed his eyes.
Again.
Another relationship ending for a reason he couldn’t explain.
His phone vibrated.
Ada.
He answered.
“Top Girl.”
“Adam?”
“Hmm?”
“I got accepted for Germany.”
He smiled.
“I knew you would.”
There was excitement in her voice.
Then something softer.
“Do you remember when Amara and I used to talk about it?”
Adam’s smile disappeared.
“Yes.”
“Do you ever wonder where she is?”
He looked at the empty passenger seat.
“All the time.”
Ada was silent.
Then she said:
“I miss her.”
Adam looked down.
“So do I.”
Neither of them said what they were really thinking.
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