Midnight library
The library smelled like old paper, disinfectant, and desperation.
It was 3:12 AM. Aisha's fingers hovered above her keyboard, the blinking cursor matching the slow, rhythmic throbbing in her temples. Her laptop’s battery showed 14%. The sockets near her were all taken. She didn’t care. Her assignment was due by 8AM. And she had only written the title: "The Intersection of Gender and Healthcare Policy in Sub-Saharan Africa."
She blinked. Hard. Then again. Her vision blurred at the edges—sleep-deprived and screen-weary.
Around her, the overnight floor of the university library was half-asleep. A few students slumped over open textbooks. One guy had headphones in and was bobbing his head to an invisible beat. The fluorescent lights hummed above them all.
Aisha adjusted her hijab, sat up straighter, and opened another browser tab to Google Scholar. The words danced on the screen. Her heart pounded. She hadn’t eaten since 5PM. Her last cup of coffee had gone cold two hours ago.
She told herself she could do it. She always did. Top of her class in secondary school. The girl with the answers. The girl everyone expected to keep shining.
Except university wasn’t the same.
She didn’t shine here. Not when everyone else was also smart. Not when every test felt like a trap. Not when she barely understood half the lectures and couldn’t bring herself to ask questions because what if they thought she didn’t belong here?
A notification blinked on her phone. Group chat: “Done with the assignment. Just submitted. Finally!” followed by fireworks and dancing emojis.
Aisha’s throat tightened.
She minimized the chat.
Another tab opened. Then another. Then she was scrolling Twitter. Her fingers knew the path of distraction too well.
“Writer’s block?”
She flinched.
The voice came from across the table. She hadn’t noticed anyone sitting there. A guy—slim, glasses, hoodie. Calm. Maybe final year? He smiled, not in a smug way. Just... softly.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” he said.
Aisha shook her head, embarrassed. “It’s fine. Just… tired.”
He nodded. “Midterm season?”
“Assignment. Due in the morning. And I haven’t even started.”
He whistled. “That’s rough.”
“I know.”
Silence.
He tapped his pen against his notebook. “I’m Fola, by the way.”
“Aisha.”
“Nice to meet you, Aisha. Mind if I sit here? My laptop’s dying and this is the only table with a working socket.”
She glanced at the power strip. Oh. He was right.
“Sure.”
Fola plugged in his laptop and pulled out a bottle of water. He offered it to her.
She hesitated. Then took a sip. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Minutes passed. Aisha tried to focus again, but her thoughts felt like static. Fola’s presence was quiet but oddly grounding.
“You know,” he said, not looking up, “you don’t have to kill yourself over one assignment.”
She looked at him. “Easy to say when you’re not the one failing.”
“Been there,” he said. “First semester, 300 level. Had four carryovers.”
Aisha blinked. “You?”
“Yep. Thought I’d drop out. Called my mum crying like a baby.”
She cracked a weak smile. “What happened?”
“Nothing magical. I stopped pretending I had it all together. Started asking for help. Talking to people. Going to office hours. Slowing down.”
She looked at her screen. The title still stared back at her, accusing.
“I don’t know how to slow down,” she said.
“Start by breathing,” he replied.
Aisha inhaled. Exhaled.
“You’ve got four hours,” he said. “Write a messy draft. Fix it later.”
She nodded.
And slowly, she started typing.
It was 4:47 AM.
Fola had moved to another table but stayed nearby. The buzz of keys was a steady rhythm. Aisha was five pages in.
Her back ached. Her eyes were sore. But the fear had dulled. Replaced by something steadier. Grit.
At 7:59 AM, she hit "Submit."
She leaned back and let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.
Fola glanced over and raised a thumb.
“Nice work.”
“Thanks.”
They walked out of the library together into the soft light of a new morning.
She still had doubts. Still had a long way to go. But for the first time in weeks, she didn’t feel completely alone.
Maybe that was enough.
