After sometime without a response, the knocking ceased, and soon it was quiet again.

Huma sighed, relieved.

The coarse drawing board on her laps was beginning to chafe her skin through the nightdress. A dull ache wormed down her back from slouching and Huma arched forward sharply, sighing at the cracking of her spine. She put a fist to her mouth as she yawned.

Tired yet still wide awake, she should be asleep, because she had to study later---her alarm had no mercy when it jarred her awake (and just when the sleep was getting good, too) --- and rise early.

What she was doing would look better in daylight anyway as against the pale glow of her room. But it had been too long anything piqued her interest. And when that happened, Huma always wanted it captured forever; the memories on her walls could attest to that.

Her phone pinged. Distractedly, as if hypnotized, Huma reached for the phone. While one hand worked, she held the phone up and glanced at it. The first thing that alarmed her was the flickering arrows at the top of the screen.

Chai! My data connection has been on.

Then she noticed the hundreds of messages from her class group--over a thousand and still counting. Her data bundle must be used up by now.

Her gaze flicked down.

A message from Mrs Ehana. Hey, scholar! How did it go? You never got back to me!........the rest of it was hidden behind her display picture.

The smile on Huma's face was automatic. Dropping the pencil on the board, she shifted in after propping up the pillow so that her back would rest comfortably. The pencil rolled into the lapping folds of her dress. Bracing herself for a verbose scolding, Huma tapped to read.

Hey, scholar! How did it go? You never got back to me! How could you do that? You better not have flunked that defence, because I took my time with you. Everyone here wants to know how you did, and you have been withholding that information. All of my students have reported back and they did really well. You flunked it didn't you? Is that why? You let those sadists get the better of you. I will personally break your coconut head. *fuming emoji* *emoji of a rock*

Her fingers hovered above the screen as she thought out plausible excuses to why she hadn't given a feedback yet. Maybe because she knew that Mrs Ehana wouldn't be pleased with the outcome. The woman was a perfectionist to the core, but a lovable pain when her grueling tasks yielded outstanding results-only then was she chummy and down to earth with students. To the unlucky ones who had coconuts for brains, they were cracked open with sleepless nights of assignments: know it or stay awake trying.

Huma giggled as she reminisced on the time an intern had slept in after pulling an all-nighter. The woman had stormed into the room like a raging bull bellowing at the top of her lungs and the boy had jolted awake, toppled out of his bunk and shot to his feet with inhuman speed. He had stood at attention and saluted but his eyes had shown no sign of consciousness. It wasn't until someone had splattered some water on his face that he blinked back into reality. It had been like a military camp. She was the wife of a soldier after all.

She refocused on the screen in time to see Mrs Ehana typing.

Dead.

Scary Iron lady is typing:She's finally online. I texted like ten minutes ago. You read that text. I was online the whole time.

Huma's lips thinned as she typed. It was a short text, but she dawdled while knowing it would read "whatever the name is typing"

Good evening, ma. How are your husband and kids?

Scary Iron lady is typing: Three minutes just to text that? Good evening. They are doing well.

And work?

Scary iron lady is typing: Fine fine-now what was your grade?

With a huff, Huma slumped back into the pillow. She would have to tell her. Her heart sunk.

I got a B

Scary Iron lady is typing: What?!You must be joking!

I am not.

Scary iron lady: That's not possible. Even the dull ones in the batch got As.

That meant she was the dent in the woman's perfect score list. Tears stung her eyes while she bit back a sob. I'm sorry, ma. I don't know what happened. Maybe i did something wrong.

A lot of people had Aced the course, and even if she hadn't anticipated much, it was still daunting and disheartening. It had been one of the most frightening moments she had experienced up to this stage in her life. The way they had looked at her; how rapidly and frantically she had tried to communicate to her translator to beat time, to answer questions. Her disability had never been so glaring.

She sniffed as her eyes smarted and wiped a stray tear. Why was she pained? It was expected. Maybe they didn't want to seem too lenient with me just because i have a problem. Her colleagues would have thought it an unfair advantage.

Scary Iron lady typing: That is bullshit! I know what you know, remember? And despite that obstacle, you deserve that A more than all the students I worked with. Maybe they were bribed by those rich airheads in that class. I know the coordinators. Wasn't Mr Omokaro part of them?

Yes, he was. Sometimes, Huma forgot she had attended the university years back.

Scary iron lady: Lol.....Is there anything you were asked to pay for buy for that you didn't?

Her lips pursed, thinking back. The only thing I can remember is that a material of his had been on sale, but I didn't buy. He said it wasn't compulsory to.

Scary lady typing: That's what some lecturers say when they really mean the opposite--silent extortion. Does he still drive that thing he calls a car and repeat the same set of clothes each week?

Yes, he does

Scary lady typing: He needs money, my dear. He has an insatiable money hungry wife . He got married to one of those destiny blocking women. So sorry.* emoji of a sad face*

Do you really think that's why?

Scary iron lady is typing: I'm almost sure. If that's the case, nothing can be done.

Almost, but Huma doubted it. Still, she felt terrible. I ruined your perfect streak.

Scary lady is typing: No, you didn't, honey. You did your best. Now I know why, I won't be breaking skulls. Who got the best result?* Grinning emoji*

I did.

Scary iron lady is typing: My goodness! Congratulations! It's not every time a girl tops the class. How many As?* emoji with nerd glasses*

And that was because there were few girls in the department and a horde of intellectually intimidating guys.

The internship defence was the only B.

Scary iron lady is typing: Are you for reals?! Look at what that greedy man has caused. One day, a heavy wind will blow away that skinny body of his for sabotaging a perfect result. If it were those days when we had powerful witches, a lightning bolt would be on its way to his house. How about I send my husband to rough him up a little?

Huma grinned. Everyone was terrified of a soldier, not to talk of a provoked one. It didn't matter how big the offender was, or how grave the offence; their torment was without mercy. She let her head fall back on the pillow and raised the phone to her eyes. Thanks for the offer, but the man might kick the bucket just by seeing your husband.

Scary Iron lady is typing: Would serve him right. Don't take it to heart. You did exceptionally well. How does it feel?

Strange and a little bit frightening. People never really bothered with me, but the result kind of put me in a spotlight that I'd rather not be in. It was just a stroke of luck, ma. I know it is. Kazeem is the straight A student and still the best.

They suddenly had amiable smiles on their faces when she passed by, and greeted enthusiastically as if some form of rapport existed. Before now, nobody had really bothered, except Kazeem. They weren't mean. They just never acknowledged her directly.

Scary iron lady is recording an audio. Huma tapped on play when she was done. Meanwhile the class group buzzed ceaselessly with utterly irrelevant issues. There was a cackle before her husky voice filled the room. "Come, what is wrong with you? Is that how you underestimate yourself and undermine your capabilities? You're just so lucky I'm not there with you. I would have corrected your brain with a hard knock on that small head. You are just as good as him, but not as good as me. Do you understand?"

Thank Allah she wasn't here. A little laugh consoled Huma, but doubt niggled regardless. Partly convinced, partly doubtful, partly scared of the woman, Huma texted that she understood.

Scary iron lady is typing: Good. Met any interesting guys?

Well i saw this guy that could squirt milk out of his eyes in school. It was really amazing. Then there was this guy; he could make money disappear, but, for some reason, they never reappeared. That one didn't end well.

Scary iron lady is typing: *meh emoji* you know what I mean.

Heat crept up Huma's face. Sometimes, she also forgot Mrs Ehana was a hopeless romantic, even in her early forties, an avid fan of sappy love stories. The woman still didn't know of the engagement and she wanted it to remain so. It was just too humiliating.

Before the engagement, there had been a few interested men who had been drawn to her, shot admiring glances, made flirtatious passes, others so brazen with their amorous advances (some of which she ignored or rejected while jittery), but as soon as it became clear that she was.......peculiar, they recoiled and the desires burning in their eyes were snuffed out. She was accustomed to the response by now.

She hadn't met with her fiance so.....
A half lie, half truth.

Her lids began to droop close and flutter open with spells of sleep. "No, no one, ma. I red soething auisth..." her lids shut and her fingers slackened. The phone slipped and fell on her face with a hard smack. Huma sat up with start as she fumbled for it, knocking her board unto the floor.

Blinking drowsily, she picked the thing up and wedged it against her bedside table, after which she got into bed and grabbed her phone.

Scary iron lady is: There she goes again, always quick to dive into books. I know sleep texting when I see it. It's almost eleven, and you have night class and school tomorrow. You should sleep. Alarms are brutal.

The worst. More messages flooded the class group, and as they exchanged goodnights, a message popped in from Kazeem, first posted on the group before sent individually.

Professor Goodwill Agbonze will not be able to meet up with tomorrow's class scheduled for 8-11pm. Classes for the day will start by 11:30pm.

Alhamduliliiah!

Huma's shoulders sagged with relief. She would get some quality sleep after all. Set to go offline, her screen suddenly darkened and scary iron lady's caller Id flashed across. The woman was video calling her.

Oh, no.

It was late. The room was poorly lit. What could she possible hope to achieve? Whatever it was, Huma wouldn't dare reject it. Not if she valued her sleep. (As eerily as it may seem, the woman was bound to make a cameo appearance in her dreams reproaching Huma in the most usual ways, whenever she was disgruntled). Tonight, it had to be dreamless. It must be.

When she slid up to answer, although Huma could make out the silhouette of someone in the darkness, which wasn't distinctly defined, nothing stood out. There was a crackle as Mrs Ehana shifted to stable her phone somewhere, and Huma held up hers, peering to see if she could somehow make out her face but it didn't make it any clearer than it was seconds ago, so she settled into her bed and waited, despite her arm that was beginning to grow tired and heavy.

Huma plastered on a tired smile because it was habit, even if Mrs Ehana couldn't see it. And only because she wanted to do something participatory, she waved at the woman.

"You don't have to force it with me," the woman droned, and Huma deflated. She could see her after all. A melody of keys started from Mrs Ehana's end and Huma realised she was playing a piano by the way her head moved. It was mellow and soothing, the rhythm lulling her to sleep. One day, she'd watch her sit behind that grand instrument and play. "I see you nodding."

Yawning, Huma blinked her eyes wide open.

"I'll make this simple and quick." Mrs Ehana said, chuckling. "It's okay to doubt yourself once in a while. Nobody is cocksure at first, and that's because of the obstacles we face from day to day, especially when things don't go our way. But that's how life goes: you lose some, you win some. The only time I was ever sure of anything was me at ten. I believe doubt serves a purpose: it makes you rethink and look for loopholes in need of fixing, for faults, but it depends on whom; it is highly subjective, in terms of what you do about it. The truth is you never know until you try. And you, Huma Adelakun, have and will continue to do so."

"Do you know what I thought when I first saw you? When Kody brought you over?"

Huma shook her head, recalling only the tender smiles. The name evoked nostalgia and a sense of loss, probably because it wasn't mentioned so much. They never talked about Cody, almost like he never existed, and Huma didn't know if it was for her sake or theirs.

"I thought, look at her, look at those eyes marveling at the things I do every day with absolutely no joy. You asked so much questions and it made me realize how much I took for granted, how much I felt entitled just because it's my job and I'm really good at it. I looked at you and remembered what my job used to mean to me." Mrs Ehana laughed-then grew serious. "The point is I earnestly wanted you to give it a shot and hoped nobody would dampen your spirit. They didn't. I can't say I understand what you're going through but what I can say is that I'm proud of you, your father is proud, and Cody-I'm sure-would be proud of you, too."

"So don't doubt that you're smart or beautiful or important. Do you understand me?"

Huma sighed, her eyes straying from the screen.

"I need to see you nod, Huma, or so help you."

Giggling, she nodded vehemently then smiled all teeth.

"Good," the melody never ceased, and Huma wondered how the woman simultaneously talked and played without missing a note. Maybe it was like singing. "Is your mother finally softening up?"

Suddenly glum, Huma shook her head, making the woman harrumph. "Don't worry. I'm sure she will, eventually."

It was highly improbable considering how the day had turned out but Huma remained optimistic, regardless.

"Okay, I'll let you go for now. Remember you're like a daughter to me; if you ever need to talk, anything at all, I'm here for you." Mrs Ehana added. "And before i forget, i notice you keep dodging the subject of men. It's a part of life. There'll come a time for that. It's almost unavoidable--almost because there are those who become nuns(how do they even survive?), but you people don't have such, right? Please, tell me your guys don't have your own version."

Suppressing a giggle, Huma shook her head. No, Islam didn't have such.

Mrs Ehana sounded relieved. "I know you're focused on school now, your career, which is superb! --i'm all for that--But be prepared. There are still wonderful men out there--like my husband-- who aren't blind and will see you for you, who wouldn't...you know..mind. Don't lose hope. One day. Anyway, thats a matter for another time. Goodnight, dear."

She smiled perfunctorilyGoodnight

Placing the phone next to her pillow after resetting the alarm, she went to switch off the light before settling in to sleep, lying on her side and snuggling under the covers, her last thoughts revolving around eyes that were of an alluring hue.

As soon as the deafening peals of bells filled the room, Huma jolted awake and shot upright, mildly disorientated, her heart racing; and when she recognized the blasted tone of her alarm, she slumped back with a groan. Something snapped and reaching under her, she fetched the broken pencil and tossed it next to her lamp on the chest of drawers.

Reluctantly, Huma dragged herself from bed, turned off the noise and groggily went to get a bag of green tea stowed in her drawers, yawning and stretching. It had been for couple of hours, but as she trudged to the door with the weight of sleep on her lids, Huma couldn't tell the difference it made. Disgruntled, she hauled the door open but immediately had to push it forward while placing a supporting foot behind when her father fell in.

He caught himself just in time and looked up at her, bleary eyed and smiling in a way that suggested embarrassment. Her father was sitting on the floor, legs splayed out, and next to him were a pillow and his sandals, which he brushed aside to make way for her. The man hadn't left as Huma earlier thought and from the look of things, he had fallen asleep while waiting.

"Caught you," he yawned and patted the space beside him. "Please, it won't be a long talk." He added when Huma remained standing, scowling at the bag she twiddled, and she eased down on the spot, readjusting the end of her nightdress so that it shrouded her crossed legs.

Nadeem shut the door behind them so they could rest their backs and gazed at her, not knowing how to initiate the conversation he had rehearsed for hours unto sleep. After a while of watching her twirl the tea bag's thread round a finger then spin back to loosen in a dispirited manner, he couldn't help but feel adequate, incompetent and inconsiderate being culpable for some of the unease that weighed down those little shoulders.

"Does it still hurt?" Turning her head towards him by the chin, Nadeem peered to see past the shadows. At his prodding, Huma parted her lips slightly so he could have a better look, gaze averted to the ceiling. It had become a hard, little node with a cherry red spot on its tip, he tried to probe with a finger, but Huma protested jerking her head away, causing him to chuckle. There was a time she loved to play doctor, especially when he was recuperating from an illness, and pretended to nurse him back to health with paper drugs and pencil injections.

How children grew up so fast.

"Do I have to apologise again?" he asked tweaking her ear playfully, and Huma, whose eyes were fixated on the teabag, shook her head. He breathed deeply, gazing straight ahead, and was silent for a moment. "It's her own way of expressing frustration and anger, making accusations and empty threats because she'd never fight or hurl abuses. If pronouncing those words could kill then I'd be dead by now. Trust me it flies out of her mouth faster than I love you." They snorted together and had to laugh at the serendipity.

"What she doesn't know is that I already have a second wife." Nadeem reached for his daughter's hand and entangled their fingers on his lap. He smiled at her knowingly and she responded with a giggle. "On second thought, I think she does and is jealous of the woman."

"She won't hit you again," he said, sobering. "I can tell you that it was completely accidental, and your mother feels bad for it."

Then why won't she say it herself? Why did her father play the middleman?

"Do you really want to stay with this girl?"Huma tugged to release her hand but Nadeem clasped it in place. "There's no need to be afraid. You can tell me anything." His smile was encouraging enough for Huma to nod that she really did.

"Might I ask why?"

It required some sort of explanation, and she promptly excused herself to get her board and marker. Sitting back down, she scrawled above the jagged line. "I don't know why but she reminds me of Cody."

"The boy? How can a grown woman remind you of a child?" Nadeem asked, perplexed. Huma chewed on her bottom lip. Then he sighed, shaking his head. Had his daughter become unnecessarily attached to someone else just like she did before? "Huma, listen to me," he began in a grave tone. "I liked Cody despite your mother's objections. He made you laugh, taught you a lot of things, but you have a habit of becoming too clingy. It took you years to get over the poor boy and I don't want to see you go through that pain again. And besides, things didn't end up well the last time you encountered a stranger or have you forgotten so quickly?"

But he couldn't dissuade her, once she resolved to do anything-which rarely happened since she yielded to their better judgment- his daughter stood by it. She was withering away with each passing day, he could tell, and something told Nadeem that if he insisted by wielding his authority as a father, although the girl would do as told, her already dwindling trust in them would be nonexistent.

"If you do insist," he said rising and slipping his big feet into the sandals. He picked up the pillow. "We won't hold you back. Being an adult now means-and it pains me to say-that you get to make your own decisions." He looked at her upturned face and smiled. "In all fairness, you'll be married soon," he winced remembering who she was affianced to, and Huma suppressed a smile. "The last months of being single should be spent doing something you enjoy. It gives you memories to reminisce on when it gets tough. Getting married changes a lot, believe me."

"I'll need her number." Nadeem said and pitched something at her, which Huma reflexively caught in mid air with a hand. It was her balled up letter. He turned and walked away, saying, "I would like to speak with this girl who has impressed my daughter. She must be something."

And that was because his daughter hardly bonded with anyone, being something of a recluse, but when she did, it was for a reason.

Author's note:

Thanks for reading. Please endeavour to vote and comment.