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A few weeks later, I was discharged from the hospital.

Walking out of those doors felt like stepping into a second chance at life.

The evidence Chike handed over changed everything.

The police launched an investigation, and one by one, the truth came out.

Musa, Tunde, and Emeka were arrested and charged for their roles in what happened to me.

As for Chike, the court took into account that he confessed, cooperated with the investigation, provided evidence, and made the call that helped save my life.

He was still punished for his involvement, but he received a lighter sentence than the others.

Justice had finally been served.

Even then, I still didn't know how I felt about Chike.

Part of me was angry.

Part of me was grateful.

Maybe some wounds heal slowly.

Maybe some never fully heal at all.

But I had learned something important.

Not everyone who smiles with you is happy for you.

Not everyone who calls you a friend wants the best for you.

And sometimes, the greatest danger comes from the people standing closest to you.

Months later, after I had fully recovered, I was finally able to take the trip that had almost cost me my life.

As the plane lifted into the sky, I sat quietly and looked out of the window.

I thought about everything that had happened.

The betrayal.

The pain.

The hospital bed.

The sleepless nights my family endured.

And the grace that kept me alive when death was only a few steps away.

Life abroad wasn't easy at first.

There were days I wanted to give up.

Days I missed home.

Days I questioned whether all the struggle was worth it.

But I kept pushing forward.

I worked hard.

I stayed focused.

And little by little, my life began to change.

Years later, I was able to give my family a better life.

My parents no longer struggled the way they once did.

My siblings got opportunities we once only dreamed about.

The family that had spent nights praying beside my hospital bed was finally smiling again.

One evening, after returning home from work, I sat quietly and reflected on my journey.

A journey that should have ended on a cold floor that night.

But God had other plans.

The people who tried to stop me became part of my story, not the end of it.

And that was when I truly understood something:

When God has written a destination for your life, no jealousy, betrayal, or evil plan can erase it.

They tried to stop my journey.

But they couldn't stop my destiny.

The End.

Days passed.
My condition improved faster than the doctors expected. I was sitting up, talking, eating, and slowly getting stronger.
But one question remained unanswered.
What really happened that night?
One afternoon, Chike walked into the hospital.
The moment my father saw him, the room went silent.
Chike looked broken. His clothes were wrinkled, his eyes were swollen, and his hands were shaking.
He walked closer and lowered his head.
"I couldn't stay silent anymore. My conscience has been killing me."
My father stared at him.
What are you saying?
Chike looked at me, tears running down his face.
It was us. Musa, Tunde, Emeka, and me. We poisoned you.
Everyone froze.
I was jealous too. I knew what they planned, but I didn't stop them.
He wiped his face.
But when I saw what happened to you, when I saw the blood, I panicked. We ran away. I wanted to leave it behind, but my conscience wouldn't let me.

He took a shaky breath.

I knew if I waited any longer, you might not survive. So I used a friend's phone and called your father. I told him where you were.
My father's face changed.
That was you? The private number that called me that night?
Chike nodded.
Yes. I couldn't let you die there alone.
He reached into his pocket and brought out his phone.
I have proof. I recorded some of the things they said. I kept it because I knew one day the truth had to come out
He fell to his knees.
I'm sorry. I don't expect you to forgive me. I just needed to tell the truth so I can finally have peace.
My father looked at him with anger and pain.
You watched my son suffer.
Chike lowered his head.
I know. I was wrong.
I gathered the little strength I had.
"Chike."
He looked up.
I don't know if I can forgive you. Maybe not now.
His face fell.
But I'm alive. And I know your call is one of the reasons I'm still here.
Chike broke down.
For the first time in days, I cried too.
Not because I forgave him.
But because I finally understood.
My father's warning was never about keeping secrets. It was about knowing that sometimes, even people close to you can envy your blessings.

The journey to the hospital was filled with confusion.
Nobody could explain what had just happened.
Just a few hours earlier, I had been declared dead.
Now, I was awake.
The moment we arrived at the hospital, doctors and nurses rushed toward us.
My family quickly explained everything.
How I had been pronounced dead.
How my body had been taken home.
How my fingers suddenly moved.
And how I had opened my eyes.
The doctors looked at one another in disbelief.
Without wasting any time, they rushed me into the emergency unit.
Several tests were ordered immediately.
Blood tests.
Heart tests.
Brain scans.
Everything.
The doctors wanted answers.
My family waited outside.
Nobody knew what to think.
Nobody knew what the results would show.
Hours later, a senior doctor walked into the waiting area holding a file.
My parents immediately stood up.
"Doctor, how is he?" my mother asked.
The doctor nodded.
"He's stable."
A sigh of relief spread across the room.
We've completed the initial examinations, the doctor continued.The harmful substance he took caused severe damage to his body, so he will need further treatment and close monitoring.
My father swallowed hard.
But he will recover?
The doctor nodded again.
Yes. It won't happen overnight, but his condition is improving.
For the first time since that terrible day, hope returned to my family.
I was alive.
And that was more than anyone thought possible just a few hours earlier.

BEHIND THE SMILES....
She screamed.
"My son!"
Her voice echoed through the house. Within seconds, relatives came running into the room.
My father rushed in first. "What happened?" he asked. My mother pointed at me, her hands shaking.
I saw it.
I saw him move.
The room fell silent.
Nobody spoke. Some thought grief had overwhelmed her. Others simply stared.
Then suddenly, my fingers moved again. This time everyone saw it. A gasp swept across the room.
My father froze.
My aunt covered her mouth.
Nobody could believe what they had just witnessed. My mother moved closer. Her heart pounding. Tears streaming down her face. She held my hand tightly.
And then...
The impossible happened.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
I opened my eyes.
"He's alive!"
Someone screamed.
The room erupted into chaos.
"Call a doctor!"
"Get a car!"
"Move!"
Nobody slept anymore.
Nobody sat still.
The same people who had been discussing taking my body to the mortuary a few hours earlier were now scrambling to get me back to the hospital.

BEHIND THE SMILES...

But was this really the end...? 💔🥺

Night slowly fell.

The house that had been filled with cries all day became unusually quiet.

Most of the neighbors had gone home.

Some relatives slept in the sitting room.

Others sat outside, discussing how my body would be taken to the mortuary the next day.

Everyone believed the story was over.

Everyone except my mother.

She was still sitting beside me.

Still praying.

Still believing.

Still refusing to let go.

Her eyes were swollen from crying.

Her voice had become weak from hours of prayer.

But she continued.

"Lord, I know what the doctors said.

I know what everyone believes.

But You have the final say."

The clock continued to tick.

Hour after hour.

Nothing changed.

My body remained motionless.

The room remained silent.

Yet my mother stayed.

Then sometime in the middle of the night...

Something happened.

At first, she thought it was her imagination.

She quickly wiped her tears and looked again.

Her heart began to race.

She moved closer.

Very slowly.

Very carefully.

Then she saw it again.

A slight movement.

So small that nobody else would have noticed it.

My fingers had moved.

My mother froze.

For a second, she couldn't breathe.

She stared at my hand.

Waiting.

Hoping.

Praying she wasn't imagining things.

Then suddenly,

My fingers moved again.

And this time...

She screamed.

For a moment, nobody moved. Nobody spoke.The room felt frozen.
My mother's cries filled the air as she clung to the side of the bed.
My siblings broke down completely.
A doctor rushed in with two nurses.
They checked the monitor.
Checked my pulse.
Tried one last time.
Then the doctor slowly stepped back.
The look on his face said everything before he even spoke.
I'm sorry.
We did everything we could...
But we lost him.
The room exploded with grief.
My younger siblings fell to the floor crying.
My father stood frozen beside the bed, still holding my hand as tears rolled down his face.
But my mother...
My mother refused to accept it.
No.
She shook her head violently.
No.
My son cannot die.
Not now.
Not like this.
She grabbed my lifeless hand and held it against her chest.
This is the child I carried for nine months.
This is the son who drank from my breasts.
This is the child I prayed for.
God did not bring him this far to leave him here.
No!
Her cries echoed through the hospital ward.
People gathered outside the room.
Some nurses wiped tears from their eyes.
But my mother would not let go.
I serve a living God.
As long as there is breath in me, I will believe for my son.
Hours later, they took my body home.
The entire neighborhood came out to mourn.
Friends.
Relatives.
Neighbors.
Everyone believed the story was over.
Everyone except my mother.
She refused to leave my side.
She placed my body in my room.
Then she sat beside me.
Throughout that day.
Praying.
Crying.
Believing.
Sometimes she would hold my hand and whisper prayers.
Sometimes she would sing worship songs through her tears.
Sometimes she would place her hand on my head and remind God of every promise she believed He had made concerning me.
Sometimes she would simply sit there and stare at me.
Waiting.
Believing.
Trusting.
As evening approached, relatives begged her to rest.
Neighbors tried to comfort her.
Even my father, broken by grief, asked her to eat something.
But she refused.
She never left my side.
Because in her heart, she refused to say goodbye.
And somewhere between her tears and her prayers, she still believed that God would have the final word.


“But was this really the end"?…

BEHIND THE SMILES...

The next thing I remember was pain.

A deep, terrible pain.

I slowly opened my eyes.

Everything was blurry.

I could hear sounds around me, but I couldn’t understand what was happening.

Then I realized where I was.

A hospital.

Machines surrounded me. My body felt heavy. I couldn’t move properly.

My mother was crying uncontrollably beside the bed. My younger siblings were sitting together in the corner, their faces filled with fear.

The moment my father saw my eyes open, he stood up immediately.

For a second, his face showed relief.

Then his expression changed.

Because he knew I remembered.

I tried to speak.

Dad…

He grabbed my hand.

I’m here, son.

Tears filled my eyes.

Everything came back.

The night.

My friends.

My father’s warning.

The mistake I refused to avoid.

I’m sorry.

My father’s eyes became wet.

Don’t talk. Save your strength.

But I shook my head.

You warned me.

The room became quiet.

My mother covered her mouth as she cried.

You told me not to tell them.

My voice broke.

You told me to wait until I was safe.

I should have listened.

My father looked down.

The pain on his face hurt more than anything I was feeling.

He held my hand tightly.

And for the first time in my life…

I saw my father cry.

Not a silent tear.

Not a tear he tried to hide.

He cried like a man watching his child suffer.

I’m sorry, Dad.

His tears fell onto my hand.

You have nothing to apologize for.

But we both knew there was pain behind those words.

The room slowly became distant again.

My mother’s crying sounded far away.

My siblings’ voices became quieter.

My father’s hand felt weaker in mine.

And as I looked at the people who truly loved me, I finally understood.

The people who loved me tried to protect me.

But I was too busy proving that I knew better.

My father warned me because he loved me.

My friends betrayed me because they allowed envy and pain to destroy their loyalty.

I spent my life believing that suffering together meant we would always celebrate together.

But I was wrong.

Sometimes people can survive hardship with you and still struggle to accept your happiness.

The monitor beside me continued to beep.

Slowly.

Slower.

And slower.

Until everything became silent.

BEHIND THE SMILES...

The moment I told them, their faces lit up.
For a few minutes, I forgot my father’s warning completely.
They hugged me. They celebrated with me. They acted like the dream belonged to all of us.
We made it, Musa said with excitement.
Chike smiled and told me he was proud of me.
Tunde laughed and started talking about all the possibilities waiting for me.
Emeka tapped my shoulder and said I deserved the opportunity.
I smiled because those were the words I wanted to hear.
From the people I called brothers.
The days that followed became some of the happiest days of my life.
They insisted we celebrate. They took me out. They reminded me of our childhood. They talked about the future.
They told me not to forget them.
And I promised I never would.
But slowly, I started noticing small changes.
Things I ignored because I didn’t want to believe them.
Sometimes Musa would joke about how I was the lucky one now.
Sometimes Tunde would go quiet whenever I talked about my plans.
Sometimes Emeka would stare at me with an expression I couldn’t understand.
Chike was the only one who remained the same.
The same quiet person who always believed things would get better.
I noticed these things, but I pushed them away.
I told myself they were just afraid of losing me.
I told myself they were my brothers.
And brothers don’t betray each other.
The night before my journey finally arrived.
We decided to spend it together.
Just the five of us.
One last night.
Like the old days.
We ate. We laughed. We remembered everything we had survived.
The room was full of stories from our childhood.
The fights we had won.
The struggles we had endured.
The dreams we had shared.
For a moment, I looked at them and felt grateful.
I thought I was leaving behind four people who would always be part of my life.
I didn’t know I was sitting with the same people who would try to destroy mine.
The music played softly in the background.
Everyone was talking.
Everyone was smiling.
Until suddenly, I felt something strange.
I placed my hand on my stomach.
Guys... I feel somehow.
Musa laughed.
Na over excitement, bro.
Chike nodded.
Relax, it’s normal.
The pain grew stronger. My head started spinning. My chest felt heavy. I reached for the table to hold myself. Tunde quickly stood up and gave me water.
Drink this.
I drank it. But seconds later, everything became worse. A sharp pain moved through my stomach. I bent forward.
And then I vomited.
Blood🩸.
The entire room froze.
The glass in my hand dropped.
My breathing became fast.
There was blood on the floor.
Blood on my clothes.
Blood on my hands.
I looked at them.
Waiting.
Waiting for someone to panic.
Waiting for someone to help me.
But nobody moved.
Nobody looked shocked.
Nobody looked confused.
They already knew.
My heart sank.
My voice came out weak.
What did you give me?
The silence was louder than any answer.
Chike stood up slowly. His face was full of pain.We didn’t want it to happen this way.
My eyes widened.
What are you talking about?
Musa looked away.
Tunde couldn’t even look at me.
Only Emeka faced me. And his next words broke something inside me.
You were leaving us behind.
I shook my head.
No.
My voice cracked.
I was going to help you.
I was going to make a way for all of us.
That was the plan.
Emeka looked down.
But you were the one who got the chance.
I stared at him.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
I didn’t choose that.
I whispered.
Musa wiped his face.
Maybe you didn’t.
But life didn’t give all of us the same opportunity.
Tears filled my eyes.
Not because of the pain.
Because of them.
The boys I trusted.
The boys I called family.
The boys I would have sacrificed everything for.
I tried to stand.
But my legs failed.
My vision started fading.
And the last thing I heard before darkness took me was Musa’s broken voice.
I’m sorry.
Then everything went black.

TO BE CONTINUED....

BEHIND THE SMILES
We were five.
Five boys from the same street, the same struggle, and the same dreams.
We grew up with almost nothing, but we had each other. When life was hard, we didn’t have money, but we had laughter. When things got worse, we didn’t have much hope, but we had each other.
We called ourselves brothers.
There was Chike, the quiet one who always believed things would get better. Musa, the loud one who could turn any painful moment into a joke. Tunde, the thinker, always planning, always dreaming of a better future. Emeka, the fighter, the one who refused to give up no matter how many times life knocked him down.And then there was me. The one who believed that if one of us made it, all of us would make it.
We suffered together. We hustled together. We shared what little we had. There were days we ate well, and there were days we went to sleep hungry. But no matter how difficult things became, we never abandoned each other.
At least, that was what I believed.
We spent years talking about escaping the life we were born into. We promised ourselves that one day we would look back at our struggles and laugh because we survived.
Then one day, my opportunity finally came.
The day I got my visa, I stood there holding the letter with shaking hands.
I read it again and again because I couldn’t believe it was real.
After all the years of dreaming, the door we had been waiting for finally opened.
When I showed my father, he didn’t say anything at first.
He just stared at the letter.
My mother started crying before I even finished explaining. My siblings screamed with happiness. The entire house suddenly became filled with excitement.
For the first time in years, our home felt different.
It felt alive.
It felt like happiness had finally found us.
My father knelt down and prayed. When he stood up, he smiled and looked at my mother.
This is a reason to celebrate.
He reached into his pocket and gave her money.
Go and buy chicken, rice, everything. Let us eat well today.
That evening, our house felt different. Alive, warm, and full.
My mother cooked like she had been waiting for this moment all her life. Rice, stew, chicken. The kind of meal we only saw on special days.
We all sat together to eat.
My siblings kept asking me questions about my new life. My mother kept smiling. Even my father, who was usually quiet, talked more than he normally did.
For a while, everything felt perfect. Then my father cleared his throat. The room became quiet. He looked at me.
Have you told your friends?
I paused. No.
He nodded slowly.
Good.
I looked at him, confused. Why?
He leaned back and took a deep breath. When you get there, you can tell them.
I frowned.
He nodded slowly.
“Yes. When you are safely there. Then you can call them. Then you can share the good news.a
He paused before continuing.
You can help them from there. You can open doors for them. You can become their blessing from far away.
Then he looked straight into my eyes.
“But don’t announce your blessing before you leave.”
The room fell silent.
I wanted to argue.
I wanted to tell him he was wrong.
But my father wasn’t finished.
“Not everyone who laughs with you is happy for you,” he said quietly. Sometimes people celebrate with you while secretly wishing they were the ones in your position.
I looked away.
Because deep down, I had already made up my mind.
My mother touched my arm gently.
“Just listen to your father.”
But inside me, I was already thinking. Already planning. Already deciding.
Because I couldn’t imagine celebrating something so big without my brothers knowing.
Not Chike.
Not Musa.
Not Tunde.
Not Emeka.
They had suffered with me.
They deserved to know.
Even if my father didn’t agree, my heart had already chosen.
And that decision was the beginning of everything that followed.
I still didn’t listen to my father.
In my mind, my friends deserved to know. We had suffered together. We had dreamed together. We were brothers.
So I told them.

To be continued...

My Story… I Trusted My Best Friend 💔🥺
We met in 100 level at UNN. Her name was Anuri. She was my best friend. I trusted her with everything. We were inseparable. We attended classes together, ate together, studied together, and spent countless nights talking about our dreams, fears, and plans for the future. She knew things about me that nobody else knew. I never imagined there would come a day when I would question her loyalty.
One night, we were lying on our bunks in our hostel room, gisting as usual. The conversation moved from classes to relationships, then eventually to boys. Suddenly, Anuri turned to me. Elina, have you done it before? I knew exactly what she meant. No,I replied. I haven't. I'm still a virgin.
She sat up immediately. Wait... seriously? I nodded. She stared at me for a moment before laughing. Elina, you're joking. I'm not.She shook her head. You're really missing out. Honestly.I smiled. I don't think so. No, you are,she insisted. This is university. This is the time to enjoy yourself. You only live once.I'm okay. She rolled her eyes.At least try it once. Just once. How will you know what you're rejecting if you've never experienced it? I laughed. I don't need to experience everything.You're too serious, she said. Sometimes I wonder how you do it.It's not that deep, I replied. For a moment, she went quiet. Then she smiled. Well, it's your choice. I thought that was the end of the conversation. I was wrong. A few days later, Anuri came into our room excited. Elina There's a party off campus this weekend. We're going. I immediately shook my head. No. Why? Because I don't like parties. She groaned dramatically. Come on. You never go anywhere. I'm fine with that. But she wouldn't let it go. Please, Elina. Just one hour. One hour and we'll leave. I never ask you for anything. I refused again and again, but she kept insisting until I finally got tired. Fine, I said. The smile that spread across her face should have warned me, but it didn't.
The night of the party, everything felt strange. The music was loud and the crowd was unfamiliar. Anuri introduced me to two guys I had never met before, and one of them handed me a drink. I hesitated. Relax, Anuri said. It's just a drink. Because it was Anuri… because she was my best friend… because I trusted her… I drank it.
A few minutes later, the room began spinning. My head felt heavy and my vision blurred. I grabbed Anuri's arm. Anuri... let's go. She looked at me. For a brief second, her expression seemed different, cold and distant. Then she smiled. Just stay small. I tried to speak again, but the darkness swallowed everything.
The next morning, I woke up alone. My body hurt. My hands trembled. Something felt terribly wrong. I struggled to gather myself and somehow found my way back to campus. When I entered our room, Anuri was sitting on her bed scrolling through her phone as if it were just another normal day. I stood there staring at her. What happened last night? She didn't answer immediately. You drank too much. My voice shook. That's not what I'm asking. She shrugged and returned her attention to her phone. Something inside me snapped. Stop lying to me, Anuri. She remained silent.
Tears filled my eyes. I woke up beside a strange man. Her fingers froze on the screen. I woke up alone. Still, she said nothing. My body was hurting. There was blood on the bedsheet. The room suddenly felt smaller. I begged you to take me home. My voice cracked. I told you I wasn't feeling well. Anuri slowly lowered her phone. I could barely breathe. You were the one who convinced me to go to that party. I said no again and again. And when I needed you… you disappeared.
The silence was unbearable. Talk to me I cried tell me what happened. She stared at me. For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then tears appeared in her eyes and suddenly she snapped. You want the truth she shouted. Yes. Fine. She stood up so quickly her chair nearly fell over. Everything good keeps happening to you. I froze. What? You heard me. You always get everything the good grades the good reputation everybody likes you. I stared at her in disbelief. What does that have to do with anything? Her voice cracked. And then you told me you were still a virgin. I shook my head. When did I ever rub that in your face? You didn't have to she screamed. The fact that you still had something I lost years ago was enough.
My heart sank. This wasn't my friend. This wasn't the girl I trusted. Tears rolled down my cheeks. You were supposed to be my best friend I cried. She laughed bitterly through her tears.
You always get everything the good grades the good reputation everybody likes you. I stared at her in disbelief. What does that have to do with anything? Her voice cracked. And then you told me you were still a virgin. I shook my head. When did I ever rub that in your face? You didn't have to she screamed. The fact that you still had something I lost years ago was enough.
My heart sank. This wasn't my friend. This wasn't the girl I trusted. Tears rolled down my cheeks. You were supposed to be my best friend I cried. She laughed bitterly through her tears.
And I was supposed to protect you, right? I nodded, unable to speak. Why, Anuri? I whispered.
She lowered her head. But she didn't answer. She didn't have to. The guilt on her face told me everything I needed to know.
The room fell silent. And somehow, that silence hurt more than any explanation ever could.
I stood there looking at her, and suddenly all the memories we shared came rushing back. The late-night conversations. The laughter. The promises. The trust. Everything felt like a lie.
The person I would have defended with my life was standing right in front of me, yet she felt like a complete stranger.
I walked away from that room with tears in my eyes and a pain in my heart that words could never fully describe.
What happened that night changed me forever. Not because of what was taken from me... but because of who took it.
Years have passed, but some memories never leave you. Some betrayals stay with you long after the people responsible are gone.
Sometimes I still think about the girl I was before that night—the girl who trusted easily, who believed her best friend would always protect her.
That girl never came back.
And although life moved on, a part of me remained trapped in that moment, learning the hardest lesson of all: Not everyone who calls you a friend truly wants the best for you.
Some wounds heal. Some scars fade.

But the pain of being betrayed by someone you loved and trusted is a scar the heart carries forever. 💔🥺

MY STORY AS A HOUSE GIRL 💔🥺
I was in SS1 when I started living with a woman who sold tomatoes and pepper.
My mother had passed away, and before she died, she had already separated from my father.I had nowhere else to go, so this woman took me in. People said I was lucky to have someone willing to care for me, but they had no idea what my life was really like.
Instead of being treated like a child, I became a house girl.
I woke up before everyone else every day. I swept the compound, washed plates, fetched water, cooked, cleaned the house, and took care of her children. I did almost everything in the house while her own children rested.
One Saturday morning, I woke up feeling weak and exhausted from the endless chores. Because I couldn't finish everything as quickly as usual, I started my duties later than expected.My madam became furious. Without listening to any explanation, she switched on a pressing iron and allowed it to get very hot. I thought she only wanted to threaten me.I was wrong.
She grabbed me and pressed the hot iron against one side of my face. I screamed so loudly that I thought my heart would stop. The pain was unbearable. Tears rolled down my cheeks as my skin burned. I kept begging for mercy, but nobody came to help me. That day left a scar on my face and a wound in my heart that never completely healed. Despite everything, I still went to school. Most days, I arrived late because I had to finish house chores before leaving. By the time I entered the classroom, every student was already seated. My seniors punished me so often that they eventually became tired of doing it. The suffering continued even after school. I wasn't allowed to brush my teeth or bathe before leaving for school. So after classes ended, I would borrow a bucket from hostel students and bathe behind the hostel building. That small corner became the only place where I could clean myself with dignity.
Many times, I came to school hungry. While other students ate during break time, I sat quietly pretending I wasn't hungry. Some days, water was the only thing that kept me going.But God used my classmates to keep me alive. They shared their food with me when they noticed I had nothing to eat. Some even gave me parts of their school uniforms because I didn't have enough clothes.
Their kindness gave me strength when life felt unbearable. There were nights I cried myself to sleep, asking why I had lost my mother and why life had become so difficult. I felt abandoned, forgotten, and alone. Yet somehow, I refused to give up. I held on to my education because it was the only hope I had for a better future.
Today, when I look back, I still remember the hunger, the tears, the pain, and the scar on my face. But I also remember the people who showed me kindness when I had nothing. The scar on my face is still there today. It may not be as bold and obvious as it once was, but it remains a permanent reminder of everything I went through. Every time I see it in the mirror, I remember the little girl who suffered in silence and prayed for a better life.

"Some wounds heal, but some scars stay forever"💔🥺.