Something about Tope's letter lit a fire inside me — the kind that doesn't burn wild, but steady. Controlled. Real.
I didn't become perfect overnight. But I started waking up with purpose.
I studied — not because of pressure, but because I wanted to understand.
I listened more in class. I said less when I was angry.
And when I saw someone sitting alone, I sat with them.
It felt strange at first… but then it felt right.
People noticed. The same classmates who used to avoid me started greeting me with genuine smiles. Teachers nodded when I passed by. Even Jide, who once mocked me, kept his distance — maybe out of respect, maybe out of confusion.
But the biggest change wasn't around me.
It was within me.
One afternoon, Tope walked beside me on the way to the library. She looked at me sideways and said, "You're different."
I raised an eyebrow. "Good different or weird different?"
She smirked. "The kind that gives people hope."
I laughed, but her words stayed in my chest like a warm cup of tea.
For the first time in a long time, I didn't feel like I was running from who I used to be — I felt like I was walking toward who I was meant to become.
Later that night, I looked in the mirror again.
This time, I didn't see the boy who lashed out, or the one who used pride to cover fear.
I saw someone new.
Not perfect. Not finished. But real.
And that was enough.