It was a few days before the big quiz competition. Tope and I had been studying together almost every evening — in class, during breaks, even under the big mango tree near the school gate. She was smart, calm, and focused. She made studying feel… easy.
But something was off.
That day, while we were going through past questions, she kept glancing at her phone, barely talking. Her energy was low, and her smile — the one I looked forward to — had disappeared.
"You good?" I finally asked.
She looked up quickly, like I'd caught her doing something she wasn't supposed to. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said, forcing a smile.
But I wasn't buying it.
Later that evening, I asked if I could walk her back to her hostel. She hesitated, then nodded. We didn't talk much on the way, and when we got to her gate, I decided to try again.
"Tope," I said softly, "I know something's wrong. You've been quiet all day."
She looked down at her hands, then slowly back up at me.
"I didn't want to say anything," she said, "but… things are tough at home."
She paused. "My mom lost her job. We've been struggling to pay my school fees. I've been helping out by doing laundry for people after class. That's why I'm always tired."
I stood there, stunned. I never would've guessed. Tope always carried herself with pride — with strength. I didn't know what to say.
"You must think I'm weak now," she said, half-smiling, half-breaking.
I shook my head. "No. I think you're the strongest person I know."
She looked at me, eyes wide with surprise — then quickly looked away. "Thanks," she whispered.
We stood there for a moment. Then she reached into her bag, pulled out a practice sheet, and said, "We still have to win this quiz, though."
I laughed. "You're serious?"
"Always."
And just like that, we went back to studying — two teammates, side by side. But now, I didn't just want to win for myself… I wanted to win for her too