Sunday morning hit different.
No classes. No alarms. Just the quiet hum of the radiator and the sound of distant church bells ringing somewhere in town. For the first time since arriving in America, Victor let himself stay in bed past 7:00 a.m.
Still, his mind was restless.
"You have two goals today," the System said. "One: Secure tutoring income. Two: Begin collaboration with Benedicta."
Victor rubbed his face. "You're getting real comfortable using her full name."
"Clarity is efficient."
He sat up and stretched, groaning slightly. "Let's make some money."
---
By 9:30 a.m., he was at the student center, laptop open, résumé polished, and a tutoring flyer half-designed. He used a Canva template — clean, sharp, with his face in one corner and bold letters at the top:
Need Help with English or Essay Writing? Affordable Tutoring by a Law Student with International Distinction!
He added his number and email at the bottom, then paused.
"Too much?" he asked the System.
"Confidence is not arrogance when backed by skill."
"Bars," Victor muttered.
He sent the flyer to the university's student tutoring board and printed five copies to pin around the library and dorm bulletin boards. It wasn't flashy, but it was a start.
---
At 11:00 a.m., Benny texted him.
> Benny: Studio room in the music building. 1 p.m. sharp. Bring lyrics 😎
> Victor: Already cooking 🔥
He wasn't lying. He had scribbled ideas in his notebook all morning. The concept? Bridges. Not just physical ones, but metaphorical ones — between countries, cultures, pain, and purpose.
He couldn't wait to show her.
---
By 12:45 p.m., Victor stood outside the music building, hoodie up, notebook tucked under his arm. Benny waved from the doorway, headphones around her neck, a warm smile on her face.
"Look at Mr. Rap Star, early and everything," she teased.
"Professional behavior, thank you very much."
They walked into a small recording room — padded walls, modest setup, keyboard in one corner. Benny plugged in her laptop and hit play.
A soft melody flowed through the speakers — piano layered with humming synths. Melancholy, but hopeful. The kind of beat that made you close your eyes.
"I wrote a hook," she said. "Wanna hear?"
Victor nodded.
She sang, voice rich and full:
"We come from fire, we cross through flames,
Still we rise and rebuild our names.
Brick by brick, we find our way,
Bridge the hurt to a better day…"
Victor exhaled. "Yo. That's beautiful."
"Your turn," she said, handing him the mic.
He took a deep breath, then began:
"From Third Mainland to Brooklyn dreams,
I build my bridge with silent screams.
Mama prayin', Ijeoma plead—
Books to buy, mouths to feed…"
She nodded along, eyes closed.
He kept going.
"But I spit truth, no sugar coat,
Words like raft — help me float.
I don't flex chains or chase applause,
I write to heal, not just because…"
The beat faded.
They sat in silence for a second.
Then Benny smiled. "We've got something."
Victor nodded. "Yeah. We really do."
---
That night, Victor returned to his dorm feeling like a different version of himself. Tired, but alive. He dropped onto his bed and opened WhatsApp to check in with home.
> Ijeoma: Thank you for the 50 dollars! Mama says we can manage with that for now.
Victor smiled. He'd sold one of his beats online that morning — a fast $65 via BeatStars. Not much, but enough to start helping.
"Initial income achieved," the System confirmed. "Emotional balance: stabilized."
But then, a new notification popped up.
Email: Academic Advising Department
He opened it.
> Subject: Concerning Attendance
Dear Victor Chukwuma,
We've noted your absence from Friday's seminar group discussion in Constitutional Law. Participation in small group seminars is mandatory and contributes to your final grade. Please reach out to your tutor immediately to reschedule. Repeated absences may impact your standing.
— Professor Klein
Victor's chest sank.
"System… I didn't miss anything, did I?"
"Correction: You did not input Friday's 12:30 p.m. seminar into your calendar. Calendar management currently at 61% efficiency."
"I was prepping for open mic," he muttered.
"Intent does not erase impact. You must integrate both purpose and responsibility."
Victor threw the phone on his bed and stood.
"This is too much," he said. "Every minute of my day is scheduled. If I don't chase money, my family suffers. If I don't rap, I lose myself. If I don't show up to class, I risk my degree."
He sat back down, head in his hands.
"Am I built for this?"
The System stayed quiet for a moment.
Then: "You are not built. You are becoming."
Victor exhaled slowly.
He opened his laptop and emailed Professor Klein, apologizing and requesting a makeup session. Then he opened Google Calendar and began logging every hour of his week.
Work. Study. Music. Rest.
Everything.
"Balance is not found," the System said. "It is created."
Victor nodded. "Then let's build it."
---
By midnight, he was under his blanket, eyes heavy, thoughts spinning. Benny's song still echoed in his mind.
"Bridge the hurt to a better day…"
That's what he was doing.
Every choice. Every stumble. Every win.
A brick in the bridge.
He wasn't just crossing.
He was constructing.