Chapter 71: The Third Year
The third year brought new challenges. The course load was heavier, the expectations higher. Dr. Adefuye's seminar was a crucible, pushing her to think, to question, to write.
Zara thrived. Her articles were being published regularly, her name becoming known beyond the campus. She was invited to speak at a conference on student activism, her face on posters she could not look at without flinching.
"You are famous," Funke teased.
"I am tired."
"That is the same thing."
She laughed, but there was truth in it. The attention was a weight, a spotlight that illuminated everything she wanted to keep hidden.
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Chapter 72: The Conference
The conference was held at a hotel in Victoria Island, the kind of place Zara had only seen from the outside. She was the youngest speaker, the only student, and her palms were sweating as she walked to the podium.
She spoke about the files, about Efe, about the students who had been silenced. She spoke about the power of words, the responsibility of those who wielded them.
When she finished, the applause was thunderous. A woman in the front row stood, her face wet with tears. "I am Efe's mother," she said. "Thank you."
Zara stepped off the stage, her legs shaking, and she let herself cry.
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Chapter 73: The Fallout
The conference brought more attention. Journalists called, activists reached out, and the university administration, which had been quiet since the investigation, began to stir.
Zara was called to the Dean's office. The Dean was a woman with a sharp face and sharper words. "You are representing this university," she said. "You must be careful what you say."
"I speak the truth."
"The truth has consequences."
Zara met her eyes. "I know."
The Dean let her go, but the warning was clear.
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Chapter 74: Tunde's Secret
Tunde had been quiet for weeks. Zara noticed, but she was too busy to ask, too caught up in her own battles to see the war he was fighting.
One evening, he did not meet her after class. She called, but he did not answer. She went to his hostel, her heart pounding.
He was sitting on the steps, his face in his hands.
"Tunde."
He looked up, and she saw the tears. "My father is sick."
She sat beside him. "How sick?"
"They do not know. The doctors are running tests." His voice broke. "He has been hiding it. For months."
She held him, his head on her shoulder, his tears wet on her shirt. "You should have told me."
"I did not want to burden you."
"You are not a burden." She held him tighter. "We will get through this."
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Chapter 75: The Hospital
Tunde's father was in a private hospital in Ikeja, a place of clean corridors and hushed voices. Zara went with him on a Saturday, her hand in his, her heart heavy.
Mr. Adebayo was in a room on the third floor. He was thinner than in the pictures Tunde had shown her, his face lined, his eyes tired. But when he saw his son, he smiled.
"You brought someone."
"This is Zara."
His eyes moved to her, assessing. "The writer."
She nodded. "Yes, sir."
"I have read your work." He held out his hand. "It is good."
She took his hand, his grip weak but warm. "Thank you, sir."
He looked at Tunde, and something passed between them—an understanding, a forgiveness.
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Chapter 76: The Treatment
The diagnosis was cancer. It was treatable, the doctors said, but the treatment was expensive. Tunde's family had money, but not enough for the months of chemotherapy that would be needed.
Zara did not hesitate. She started a crowdfunding campaign, her name and her story lending it weight. The response was immediate—students, alumni, strangers who had read her articles.
Within a week, the funds were raised.
Tunde found her in the library, his face wet. "You did this."
"We did this," she said.
He kissed her, and for a moment, the world was nothing but them.
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Chapter 77: The Chemo
The treatments began in October. Tunde spent his days at the hospital, his nights studying, his face pale with exhaustion. Zara was there when she could be, sitting beside him, holding his hand.
"You do not have to do this," he said one afternoon.
"I want to."
He looked at her, his eyes red. "I am not sure I can be what you need right now."
She took his face in her hands. "I need you to be alive. Everything else we can figure out."
He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. "I do not deserve you."
"You deserve everything."
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Chapter 78: The Article
She wrote about it. Not the details—Tunde's privacy was sacred—but the shape of it. The fear, the waiting, the small moments of hope. She wrote about the students who were struggling, the ones who could not afford treatment, the ones who were silently disappearing.
The article went viral. Shares, comments, messages from people who had been through the same thing. A radio station asked her to speak. A television producer called.
She said yes to some, no to others. She was learning to navigate the world of attention, to use it without being consumed by it.
Tunde read the article in the hospital, his face soft. "You are changing things."
"I am trying."
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Chapter 79: The Remission
The news came in December, just before the semester ended. The cancer was in remission. Tunde's father was going home.
Tunde called her from the hospital, his voice breaking. "He is okay."
She cried, sitting on her bunk, Funke's arms around her. "I am so glad."
"I am coming to see you."
"I will be waiting."
He came that evening, and they sat on the steps of her hostel, the campus quiet around them. He held her, and she held him, and for a moment, there was nothing but relief.
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Chapter 80: The New Year
The new year brought new resolutions. Zara was offered a column in a national newspaper—a small space, but hers. She would write about education, about youth, about the Nigeria she wanted to see.
Tunde was returning to school, his father's illness behind them. He had changed, the weight of the months making him quieter, more deliberate.
"What do you want?" she asked him one evening, as they walked through the campus.
He thought for a moment. "To be a doctor. To help people like my father. To make a difference, even if it is small."
She took his hand. "That is not small."
He squeezed her hand. "Neither are you."