Chapter six:The Opportunity
1845 Words
By my second year of university, I had learned that growing up was mostly about making decisions you weren’t completely ready to make.
Some decisions were small.
What to eat after a long day of lectures.
Whether to sleep for an hour before starting an assignment.
Whether that missing measurement on your architecture drawing was worth starting the entire thing again.
Other decisions were bigger.
The kind that made you sit on your bed at midnight and stare at the ceiling because you had no idea what the right answer was.
I was about to face one of those decisions.
It started on an ordinary Tuesday morning.
I had just finished a studio class when my lecturer asked me to stay behind.
“Amara, I want you to apply for something.”
I looked up from my notebook.
“For what?”
She handed me a printed document.
I read the heading twice.
West African Student Architecture Exchange Programme.
I looked back at her.
“What is this?”
“It’s a six week programme in London. Students from different universities are selected based on their academic work and design projects.”
London.
The word immediately caught my attention.
“You think I should apply?”
“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t.”
I looked down at the document again.
“There’s a competition?”
“Yes. You’ll submit your portfolio and one original design proposal.”
“When is the deadline?”
“Three weeks.”
I laughed nervously.
“Three weeks?”
“You have time.”
“I have exams.”
“You also have talent.”
I smiled.
“Those are two very different things.”
She smiled back.
“Apply, Amara.”
I took the paper home.
I didn’t tell Daniel immediately.
Not because I wanted to hide it from him.
I just wasn’t sure I was good enough.
That evening, I sat at my desk and opened my laptop.
I stared at the blank document for almost twenty minutes.
Then I started working.
For the next three weeks, my life became a cycle of lectures, assignments, sketches, corrections, coffee, and very little sleep.
Tasha called one night.
“You sound tired.”
“I am tired.”
“Have you eaten?”
“Yes.”
“What did you eat?”
I paused.
“Food.”
“Amara.”
“Okay, noodles.”
She sighed.
“You’re hopeless.”
I laughed.
“I’m working on something.”
“What?”
I hesitated.
“An architecture competition.”
There was silence.
Then she screamed.
“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?”
I pulled the phone away from my ear.
“I just did.”
“You’re applying for an international programme and you casually mention it like you’re telling me you bought toothpaste?”
I laughed.
“I don’t even know if I’ll get selected.”
“You have to try first.”
“I know.”
“Does Daniel know?”
I became quiet.
“No.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
She sighed.
“Amara.”
“I’ll tell him.”
“You better.”
I ended the call and looked at my phone.
Daniel and I had been talking less recently.
Not because anything was wrong.
Life had simply become busy.
His engineering programme was demanding, and mine was even worse than I had imagined.
Sometimes we’d go two or three days without having a proper conversation.
We still checked on each other.
We still called.
But things weren’t as effortless as they had been before.
I hated admitting that.
That night, I finally called him.
He answered after a few rings.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
He sounded tired too.
“How was your day?”
“Long. Yours?”
“Long.”
He laughed.
“We’re doing great.”
“Absolutely.”
There was a comfortable silence.
Then I said, “I have something to tell you.”
“What?”
“I’m applying for an architecture programme.”
“That’s amazing.”
“You haven’t even heard the rest.”
“What’s the rest?”
“If I get selected, I might have to travel to London for six weeks.”
There was a pause.
“London?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s huge, Amara.”
“I know.”
“You have to apply.”
“I am.”
“I’m serious. You should do it.”
I smiled.
“You’re not worried?”
“About what?”
“Six weeks.”
He laughed softly.
“Six weeks isn’t forever.”
I smiled.
“That’s what I told myself.”
“You’ll be amazing.”
“Thank you.”
“And when you get selected, I’ll be the first person to brag about knowing you.”
I laughed.
“You’re already annoying.”
“I know.”
We talked for another hour.
For the first time in weeks, I felt like everything was normal again.
I submitted my application three days before the deadline.
Then I tried not to think about it.
It lasted exactly two days.
On Friday afternoon, I was leaving the library when my phone buzzed.
An email.
I almost ignored it.
Then I saw the subject.
Architecture Exchange Programme — Application Outcome.
My hands suddenly felt cold.
I opened it.
I read the first sentence.
Then the second.
Then I stopped.
I read it again.
I had been selected.
I stood in the middle of the walkway staring at my phone.
I didn’t even realize I was smiling until someone walking past looked at me strangely.
I immediately called Tasha.
She screamed.
Then I called my mother.
She screamed too.
Then I called Daniel.
He didn’t answer.
I tried again.
Nothing.
I sent him a message.
I got selected.
He replied almost an hour later.
Selected for what?
I stared at the screen.
The London programme. Remember?
His response came a few minutes later.
Oh. Wow. That’s good.
Something about the message felt strange.
I typed:
Are you okay?
He replied:
Yeah. Just busy. We’ll talk later.
I put my phone down.
Maybe he really was busy.
I tried not to overthink it.
But the next day, he still hadn’t called.
Or the day after that.
By Monday, I was annoyed.
I called him.
He answered.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
“You sound angry.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
I sighed.
“Why have you been avoiding me?”
“I haven’t.”
“You have.”
“I’ve just been busy.”
“Daniel, you’ve been busy for three days?”
“Yes.”
“With what?”
He went quiet.
“School.”
I stared at the wall.
“Okay.”
“Amara”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Then tell me what’s wrong.”
He sighed.
“I don’t know.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“I’m happy for you.”
“But?”
“There is no but.”
“Daniel.”
He was quiet for a moment.
Then he finally said, “I’m scared.”
My anger disappeared.
“Of what?”
“You leaving.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“I’m going for six weeks.”
“I know.”
“I’m coming back.”
“I know.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I don’t know.”
His voice sounded frustrated.
“I know this is supposed to be a good thing. And it is. I’m proud of you. But sometimes I feel like everything around us is changing.”
I sat down.
“Everything is changing.”
“Exactly.”
“We’re growing up.”
“I know.”
“That’s not necessarily bad.”
“I know.”
Neither of us spoke.
Then he said something that stayed with me.
“What if we grow in different directions?”
I swallowed.
“I don’t know.”
It was the first time either of us had admitted that.
We had spent so much time believing that being together meant we’d naturally end up in the same place.
But what if we didn’t?
What if my dreams took me somewhere he couldn’t follow?
What if his dreams did the same to me?
We ended the call without solving anything.
For the next few days, I threw myself into preparing for the trip.
My mother helped me organize my documents.
Tasha helped me decide what clothes to pack.
Daniel and I barely spoke.
I missed him.
But I was also beginning to understand that missing someone didn’t mean you had to stop moving forward.
The night before my flight, I sat on my bed looking through old pictures.
There was one from our final day of secondary school.
We were standing outside the school gates, smiling at the camera.
We looked so young.
I smiled.
Then my phone buzzed.
Daniel: Are you awake?
I replied.
Me: Yes.
A few seconds later, my phone rang.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“How are you?”
“Nervous.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“I hope so.”
There was a pause.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“For what?”
“For making your good news about me.”
I smiled sadly.
“You were scared.”
“I was.”
“I was too.”
“Of what?”
“Of leaving.”
He was quiet.
“I’m still scared.”
“Me too.”
Another pause.
Then he said, “But you should go.”
I smiled.
“Thank you.”
“Go learn everything you can.”
“I will.”
“Meet amazing people.”
“I’ll try.”
“Come back and design me a house.”
I laughed.
“You don’t even have money for the house.”
“I’ll get money.”
“Sure.”
“I’ll be rich.”
“Of course.”
He laughed.
Then his voice became softer.
“I’m proud of you, Amara.”
My eyes stung.
“Thank you.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
We stayed on the phone until almost midnight.
When we finally said goodnight, I felt lighter.
The next morning, at the airport, I looked at my passport and boarding pass.
Six weeks.
It wasn’t forever.
But it was the first time I was stepping into something completely separate from the life I had built with Daniel.
And maybe that was what growing up really meant.
Not choosing between love and your dreams.
But learning how to make room for both.
I walked toward the departure gate.
Before I entered, my phone buzzed one last time.
Daniel: Go make me proud, future architect.
I smiled.
Me: Always, future engineer.
Then I put my phone away and walked through the gate.
For the first time, I wasn’t sure what would happen next.
And strangely, I wasn’t afraid.
I was excited.
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