Growth wasn't always loud.
Sometimes, it happened in quiet moments—when no one was watching, when no one was asking, when you simply woke up one day and realized you had changed.
For Akutu, it wasn't about forgetting Kojo.
It was about remembering herself.
She started writing again.
Not for assignments, not for anyone else—just for herself.
Late at night, when the world was quiet, she filled pages with thoughts she hadn't spoken aloud.
Sometimes, they were about the past.
Sometimes, they were about the future.
But mostly, they were about her—who she was becoming, what she wanted, the kind of life she was slowly shaping for herself.
And for the first time in a long time, she felt in control.
One afternoon, as she sat under the shade of an old mango tree on campus, she pulled out her notebook and began to write:
"What if everything we lose isn't really lost? What if it's just making space for something new?"
She paused, tapping her pen against the paper.
Then, for the first time in weeks, she picked up her phone and dialed Kojo's number.
This time, she wasn't calling to check if he still remembered her.
She was calling because she had something to say.
And when he answered, she smiled.
"Hey," she said, her voice steady. "How's Accra?"
The pulleys of life had shifted once again.