The halls were unusually quiet that morning.
Even the loudest students whispered. Laughter was low, footsteps softer, and eyes kept darting toward the notice board at the front of the building.
The results were coming out.
I had barely slept the night before. My dreams were a chaotic mix of blank answer sheets and my father's disappointed face. I tried to eat breakfast, but every bite felt like chewing paper.
Tope, of course, was calm. Calm, but quiet.
"You ready?" she asked as we stood in line.
"No," I admitted.
She smiled gently. "Let's go together anyway."
The board was covered with names — page after page, printed in bold black ink. Everyone scrambled to find theirs. Some faces lit up in joy. Others faded into disappointment.
I scanned quickly… first by class… then by initials.
And there it was.
Position: 7th.
Top ten. But not top five.
My chest tightened.
Not enough to go abroad. Not enough to prove anything to my father. Not enough to shut down the voices in my head that still whispered "you're not good enough."
I stepped back, dazed. Then I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder.
Tope stood there, holding back a smile.
"I came 5th," she said softly.
I blinked in surprise. "You made it?"
She nodded. "Barely. But I did."
Something inside me wanted to cheer for her. Another part wanted to cry for myself. But instead, I just said, "I'm proud of you."
She looked at me closely. "I'm proud of you too."
I frowned. "But I didn't make it."
"You didn't make the list your father set," she corrected. "But you made your list. You didn't give up. You studied, you tried, and you got back up when things got hard. That's worth more than a position."
I didn't respond. I couldn't. Because deep down, I knew she was right.
And somehow, even without making the top five… I felt like I was finally starting to win.