Fatima had learned to recognize the sound of worry in her mother's voice long before the words arrived. Even through the phone, she heard it clearly now—the pauses, the careful tone, the attempt to sound calm.
"I didn't want to bother you," Binta said. "You have your studies."
Fatima stood in the narrow corridor outside her hostel room, her bag still slung over her shoulder. Students passed by laughing, free and careless, while her chest tightened with concern. "Mama, you should always tell me," she replied gently. "What's happening?"
By the time the call ended, Fatima's excitement about the new semester had faded. She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes. Money was tight. Her father's work had become unstable. Bills were piling up. Jamila was still too young to understand the full weight of it all—but Fatima did.
That evening, Fatima called Jamila. Her sister's voice was small but relieved, as though hearing her made things feel less frightening.
"I wish you were here," Jamila said.
"I know," Fatima answered softly. "But listen to me—you're not alone. I'm still your sister, even from far away."
Later that night, Fatima sat at her desk, textbooks open but unread. She thought about the sacrifices her parents had made to send her to university, about the dreams she carried not just for herself, but for her family. After a long moment, she picked up her phone and began searching.
The next morning, she called home again. This time, her voice was firm.
"I can take on a part-time job," she said. "There's a library position on campus, and tutoring opportunities. It won't solve everything, but it will help."
Binta protested at first, worried about the strain, but Fatima wouldn't back down. "Let me do this," she said. "I'm the eldest. I can carry some of it."
When Jamila overheard the conversation, something shifted inside her. She had always seen Fatima as confident and unbreakable, but now she understood the cost of that strength.
That night, Jamila wrote Fatima a message, thanking her in words that felt too small. Fatima replied with a simple sentence: We rise together.
As Fatima walked across campus the next day, exhaustion already pressing at her shoulders, she reminded herself why she was doing this. Every lecture, every late shift, every sacrifice was a step forward—not just for her, but for the family she carried quietly in her heart.
Some burdens were heavy.
But love made them
worth lifting.