'PROMISING ZAINAB'

PROLOGUE

"And finally, our Best Graduating Student of the Year... Zainab Ola Bishara!"

The deafening applause from the large crowd at the convocation square of the University of Abuja echoed across the grounds, jolting Zainab out of her daze. With a brain like hers and the fierce determination of a fighter, it was perhaps to be expected. Still seated alongside her best friend, Ene, she could feel the weight of her graduating peers' eyes on her. Some went as far as whispering, "Stand up na, Zainab, they've called your name twice!"

Still feeling somewhat stiff, she stood up just as the Vice-Chancellor, Professor Mohammed, called out from the podium once more, "Zainab Ola Bishara, is she here?" He nodded as he finally spotted her making her way to the front.

"Congratulations, Zainab. This is only the beginning of great things for you. You indeed have a very promising future," the VC said, shaking her hand, handing over her award and certificate, and pausing for the cameras.

Excitement washed over Zainab. She smiled widely, thanked the VC, and raised her award high for everyone to see as she went back to her seat amidst cheers and whistles, some of which were coming straight from her friends, her clique.

Reaching her seat, she squealed and hugged her best friend, who was busy wiping away fake tears. A few minutes later, the ceremony drew to a close, and students and visitors poured out onto the grounds to take pictures and celebrate.

"Mummy! Pops! You came!" Ene squealed, running off to hug her parents while dragging Zainab along. "Guess what? Zainab here is the best graduating student in our school this year! Aren't you proud?" she continued in excitement, completely missing the sad, slightly apologetic smile Ene's father was offering.

"Congratulations, Zainab," they said in unison. "I'm sure your family is even prouder," Ene's father continued, shaking her hand.

"Group photo, please!" Ene squealed, flagging down a passing cameraman.

Zainab looked at her phone, her expression falling as she scanned the crowd, searching for familiar faces.

Noticing, Ene offered a soft, sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, Zainab. I'm sure they would have made it if they could."

Zainab just nodded, blinking back tears as she offered a brave smile to her best friends. It was no big news, really; her family never showed up for her. They had missed her matriculation, her secondary school graduation party, and now, her university convocation too.

As if the heavens heard her thoughts, her phone rang. The custom ringtone instantly told her who was calling. She smiled brightly, swiping to answer and holding the phone to her ear.

"Hey, big brooooo!"

"Lil sis!" he shouted over the line. "Congratulations! I mean, the latest graduate in town!" He paused, his tone dropping. "Sorry, mahn. Should have called you earlier. I hope you're celebrating joyfully, and yeah, no thinking about the parents. You've done well. Just breathe freely today and enjoy your day."

"Thanks, bro," Zainab mumbled.

"I sent you 50k," her brother said. "Use it and eat graduation shawarma. I'm sorry I couldn't make it there for you; you know how my job is, and my difficult boss refused to grant me leave. But I'll make it up to you soon, I promise."

For the first time all day, she felt as if her heart might burst with gratitude. "Big broooo! My Odogwu Parara!" she hyped him up. "You know I love you, right?" She smiled widely, as if he could see her. "God bless you."

Just as she heard a rustling sound on the other end, the line went dead. Her brother had hung up without saying goodbye, but she just smiled, shaking her head.

She couldn't contain her joy. Turning, she hugged her best friend all over again. "Let's go paint the town red!" she laughed, joining the rest of the group back at Ene's family canopy since she had none of her own, dining on party jollof and wine while silently praying and hoping for the best in her future.

The hustle and bustle of final clearance was enough to make any student frustrated. "Who still clears after convocation?" Amina sighed for the fifth time since arriving at the APU. It was her final verification before she would be handed her result. She couldn't wait to leave this environment, she thought, taking her phone out of her bag and sending Ene a quick text: "What's up?"

To which Ene responded with a sigh emoji. Ene had two more verifications before she would be done; the alumni verification stressed her a lot, making her process slower. The girls couldn't wait to go for their NYSC. Their names had been on the list since last month, and they needed the hard copy of their certificates before applying for youth service.

Zainab received another text from Ene saying she was done with the alumni office and was heading to the APU to meet her. Sending a quick "Okay" in response, Zainab offered a quiet prayer in her head for this process not to take long.

Their NYSC call-up letters arrived earlier than they expected. Zainab was posted to the Lagos camp, while Ene was posted to Abuja, of course with the help of her father, who was friends with an official of the National Youth Service Corps.

"D@mn rich people," Zainab thought to herself after she heard where her best friend was posted.

The fun part of the preparations for Zainab was doing it all with her best friend, even though they would soon be in different states.

One year went by faster than they thought, or maybe for Zainab, it felt that way because of how much she enjoyed her service year. Working as an office assistant in a private publishing company wasn't so bad after all. They even asked to have her retained after one year, which she wholly accepted, as she loved working there. However, she was later transferred to their office in Abuja, where she met Mr. Akinyemi and the beginning of her work misery.

CHAPTER ONE

"Believe in yourself."

It was a phrase Zainab had always used to console herself. And she actually did, right?

That was the thought rotating in her mind as she stared at the brown envelope resting on her desk in the shared office space she occupied with two other assistants. Well, she was technically ranked higher or at least, that was what her boss, Mr. Akinyemi, had told her last week when she went to his office to request a transfer to a different department. He had promised to look into it. But now, two months and three follow-up meetings later, she still found herself sitting at the exact same chair and table from three years ago, everything around her stubbornly unchanged.

Letting out a heavy sigh, she picked up the envelope, her nervous system instantly reacting, and tore it open.

Inside was a crisp white A4 sheet of paper with a formal letter that read:

Dear Miss Bishara Zainab,

Congratulations on securing a spot for the Entrepreneur's Training Grant. We will be expecting you at our head office in a month's time for final verification and clearance.

We wish you all the best. Kindly contact the numbers below for any questions or concerns you may have.

Warm regards,

United African Commission.

Zainab sat straight up, the joy on her face entirely palpable. She wanted to shout, say something, or even dance around the room, but she needed to maintain professional decorum. Instead, she celebrated wildly inside her head. Three years of applying back-to-back, and finally, a congratulatory email. A promising future indeed.

Her thoughts spiraled in a chaotic rush, excitement threatening to override her senses as she thought of how to expand her fashion business, renting a small shop, buying a machine maybe two for a start and...

"No, Zainab," she thought to herself. "Don't get too ahead of yourself. You have one month before you meet these people, and you have no idea if this will even work out well for you. You know how your luck always runs out when you hope too much."

Shaking her head to clear out the bad thoughts, she began humming in excitement and joy again. This one would work out for her. It definitely would. But the euphoria was short-lived as her boss walked in abruptly, demanding to know the time.

Oh, how I wish I could strangle his arrogant and evil self, she thought, quickly standing up. It was three o'clock, lunch break. She needed to go run errands and fetch lunch for everyone. He had promised her a promotion if she just "played the team player," a promise made over two years ago that had yielded zero results, while the extra duties firmly stuck. Errand girl duties, once again.

Rushing out of the shared office, she grabbed her jotter and pen, hastily took orders from all her colleagues, and headed out into the afternoon heat.

"Oh, Zainab, you are such a fool," she muttered to herself as she walked. "You've let all this become a habit, and now you can't even get yourself out of it."

Trying to cheer herself up as she so often had to do on these runs, she let her mind wander back to the acceptance letter. The excitement from earlier bubbled up again, eliciting a loud, joyful laugh and a sudden skip in her step.

Yet, just as quickly as the joy arrived, the cold shadow of doubt crept in. What if this isn't real? What if it's a scam? What if it doesn't work out in the end? Every step forward was met with a new "what if" echoing in her mind.

She rubbed her temples as a dull headache began to throb behind her eyes. Maybe working here isn't that bad after all. I mean, I get enough salary to pay my bills, right? Or maybe half of them.

She shook her head, trying to clear out the confusing mix of hope and resignation as she finally arrived at the food shop, collected everyone's orders, and turned back toward the office, not hearing the sound of her phone beep or the text message from her younger sister, requesting yet again another reckless spending.

CHAPTER TWO

Waking up at 3:00 AM was the last thing Zainab had planned to do, but listening to her phone ring persistently for the third time was enough to drive anyone crazy. Reaching blindly for the device on her bedside stand, she answered with an annoyed, sleep roughened hello, only to freeze when she heard her mother's voice on the other end.

"Ah, mummy, I wasn't expecting your call. Is everything okay?"

Her mother sighed on the other end. "It's time for my vigil. I want you to join me."

"But mummy!" she protested, pulling the phone away to look at the screen in disbelief. "I have work in the morning na, you know that!"

"Zainab, stop," her mother chastised sharply. "You never know if this is what will save you. Is it that nonsense you call a job? Just because no one is shouting at you doesn't mean we are okay with it a job that cannot even feed your family for a week! You will pray with me, Zainab, whether you like it or not."

Zainab fought back a wave of hot tears, the last remnants of sleep instantly vanishing. Her mother always did this, effortlessly gaslighting her. Deep down, she wished she could just end the call and go back to sleep, but knowing herself, she could never bring herself to do it.

Sitting up straight in bed while feeling the familiar onset of a stress headache, she closed her eyes and joined her mother in prayer, a session that dragged on for two agonizing hours, with Zainab dozing off and snapping awake intermittently the entire time.

Getting to work early was always first on Zainab's daily checklist, though she certainly wasn't feeling her sharpest today. She felt physically drained and completely out of it, yet she still managed to pull herself together enough to handle her tasks efficiently. Today, she had a critical work presentation to make on behalf of her team.

Looking sharp in her tailored navy blue pants, white short-sleeved shirt, and black flat office shoes, she felt ready enough. Although Mr. Akinyemi had failed or forgotten to inform her, they were having visitors at the company today. From what she heard, one of the big bosses was coming to visit and would be present for her presentation.

Taking one deep breath, she opened the door to the meeting room and stepped in, seeing that Mr. Akinyemi was already seated and giving her the evil eye. Other members of her team were there too, alongside some of their senior colleagues. The bosses had not yet arrived, so she thought to use the time left to free her mind.

"Well, I hope you will do great as always today, Zainab," she heard Mr. Akinyemi say as he moved to sit next to her. "Don't forget, this is teamwork. You are only doing the presentation, and who knows, if you do well, we can always revisit discussing your chances at getting a promotion and even becoming assistant chief editor," he winked at her.

Yes,Zainab nodded. This could be her chance at that promotion she had always prayed and begged for.

"Okay, sir," she responded, moving a little farther away from how close he was seated. "But don't forget your promise to me this time around ooo."

As if on cue, three men stepped into the meeting room, all looking serious in very expensive suits. One was taller than the others and headed straight to the head of the table, nodding in greeting to Mr. Akinyemi while Zainab stood along with the other members in the room, offering a low bow.

Five minutes later, the meeting started, and soon enough, it was time for their presentation. It was her topic and her idea, so she knew what to do.

"Hello. My name is Zainab Bishara, Senior Office Assistant. I am the team representative to present our topic: Beyond the Printed Page: Shifting to an Audio-First Editorial Workflow," she started, a little nervous at first because this was her first presentation, especially one where the big bosses were present. Other times, she had always written out her ideas only to watch them taken away from her, the credit given to Mr. Akinyemi and his team. So she was a little surprised when Mr. Akinyemi had approached her to inform her that she would be presenting as team leader, and to prepare very well as all that was required solely depended on her. Of course, she was too happy to hear that to even complain about the workload, nodding profusely and heading to her office.

"First of all," she continued, head straight, shoulders high, exhibiting high confidence in herself and what she was talking about, "I would like us to understand what this means." She tried looking in the way of the bosses for any hint or look of approval or disapproval, but was met with neutral faces. Not minding at all, though shaking from the inside, she continued speaking with boldness and clarity.

"And finally," she said, coming to the end of her presentation, "our audience has already made the shift. They are listening to their books while commuting, exercising, and working. If we want our stories to remain competitive, our editorial process must reflect how people actually consume content today. Moving beyond the printed page ensures our authors reach their maximum audience in the highest quality format possible. Thank you."

She ended her presentation with a smile and a small bow, standing at the corner of the meeting room awaiting questions and judgments, as she could tell from the faces of some of the senior colleagues.

She wasn't expecting applause, although she knew she did well. She saw Mr. Akinyemi's facial expression and could tell he wasn't pleased, if the shock and disapproving smile were anything to go by. Isn't this what he wanted? she thought to herself. For her to do well?

As expected, he offered a disapproving shake of the head and stood up. "That was a very bad presentation, Zainab. I thought you were better than that. This wasn't what I taught you, and I am disappointed."

Pure shame washed over Zainab. She knew this act too well. This time, though, she tried to hide it well, staring at him with a straight face. He sat down while mumbling, "Very disappointing," while looking around for supporters.

Soon enough, one of the bosses, Chief Ogene, asked her a question, thankfully one related to the topic of discussion. She stood straight and answered as best as she could, hiding the now very nervous fluttering of her stomach. She saw him nod, then whisper something to the man to his left, who nodded as well. The three men stood up, leaving the room, but not before the last one gave her a nod, muttering a "Good one" in her direction.

Zainab heaved a sigh of relief and faced the other members in the meeting, who gave their honest opinions, some against the idea of an audiobook, while others praised her creative presentation, while Mr. Akinyemi kept telling whoever cared to listen that it was all his idea.

"Very crazy thing," she thought to herself as she left the meeting room.

CHAPTER THREE

"Gurl, I still can't believe you did that presentation. I am so proud of you!" Ene said to her friend Zainab over FaceTime. Due to time zones and differences, they rarely made calls like this, settling for daily check-ins on WhatsApp and sharing reels on Instagram.

Zainab smiled at her friend, folding a pile of washed clothes in the corner of her room. "I couldn't believe it myself," she whispered, more to herself, but Ene heard it and let out a low laugh. "After all the stupid man has done to you, making stupid and fake promises, of course you wouldn't."

"Not all fake promises," Zainab countered. "He did promise me a promotion this time if the presentation went well, and I'm sure it did, so..." She trailed off. "Don't jinx it for me."

Ene gasped, her mouth agape. "Oh! I don't know who is even more foolish, you or your Mr. Promise Maker, whatever his name is!" She laughed. "I still think you should leave there sha. That place is draining you," she said sadly. "I miss my best friend, you know? That girl who was best in her academics. I want her back."

The girls let out equal sighs, reminiscing about their school days.

"You know what? How about the fashion business? I know you were so good at designing and making dresses, plus it would fetch you good money," she paused, "with time. Oh, and by the way, how far about that grant you applied for? Any good news?" she asked. "I mean, you've tried applying for that a number of times."

Hearing about the grant, Zainab smiled, turning to fully face her laptop screen. Seeing her best friend's face, her smile increased. "Well," she said, "I got a letter. According to them, I have a month for final verification and clearance, although someone said it was just a formality," she finished.

"Yaaaaaay!" Ene squealed. "This is awesome news! But yeah, a month, then we celebrate!" She laughed excitedly, giving Zainab a side-long look when she noticed her expression changing. "What, Zainab? No, don't tell me you are going to doubt this, and definitely not yourself! No, this is not a scam. Yes, you deserve this. And for Christ's sake, it will definitely work out!" She sighed in exasperation.

"You have a month to leave that shitty job, girl, or I will come take you out of it myself. I will take care of the both of us," she sang-songed, "if that's what you are afraid of. And f*ck your family members, they don't get to undermine you every time. It's time you stand up for yourself. You know you are better than all this."

Zainab smiled, the same understanding smile she always put on whenever Ene talked about her family. But she couldn't just disappoint them; after all, they didn't train her all through school for her to refuse to assist, even if most times it became too much for her. But she could never complain, what she didn't know was that deep down, she was complaining because she was almost past her breaking point.

A message notification popped up on her screen. It was from her big bro.

"Hey, babes," Ene said. "I gotta go, you know, early work day in the morning. Yeah, time zones truly suck."

Zainab grumbled, and Ene laughed. "We will talk soon. Love you, girl, and stop doubting yourself!"

Before Zainab could utter a response, the call ended.

So much for talking with her best friend.

Zainab looked down at the clothes she was arranging,finished folding them, and let out a long sigh, deeply grateful for the distraction of Ene's call.

A few minutes later, she dozed off, the absolute exhaustion of the day catching up to her.

The shrill sound of her phone ringing jolted her awake, her thoughts in shambles as her hands scrambled blindly for the device. Checking the time, she saw it was 3:00 AM. Just as it started ringing again, flashing her mum's caller ID for another mandatory nightly prayer session, she stared at the glowing screen, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. Then, she did something she never imagined she had the courage to do: she ended the call, pressed the red button, and powered the phone completely off. Adjusting her position in bed, she drifted right back to sleep.

Waking up at her normal time, she prepared her breakfast, dressed in plain black trousers, a milk-colored chiffon shirt, and black shoes, grabbed her essentials, and headed to work, entirely forgetting to switch her phone back on.

Upon reaching the office, she greeted a colleague and settled at her desk. Noticing that a nearby desk was empty, she wondered if the person had resigned or if something had happened out of nowhere. Reaching into her bag for her phone to call her, she remembered it was still off and powered it back on. Instantly, a torrential downpour of missed calls and notifications crashed onto her screen. The name "Mum" flashed repeatedly, and she winced, making a mental note to call her later; hanging up on her mother was undeniably asking for trouble.

Dialling her colleague's number, she heard a phone ringing just outside their office. Suspicious and curious, she stepped out into the hallway and found the colleague standing right there. Looking closer, she noticed an ID card hanging around the woman's neck: 'Assistant Chief Editor', with the name Onwuchekwa Rita printed beneath it.

Saying she was angry was a massive understatement. A hurricane of emotions crashed across her face; anger, embarrassment, sadness, shock, and finally, a white hot fury. She stormed off toward Mr. Akinyemi's office, barging in without knocking to find him sitting comfortably behind his desk, actually smiling at her.

"I take it you've seen Rita today," he said smoothly. "We've seen her dedication to the company and deemed it fit to promote her."

"What about me?" she whispered, hating how fragile she sounded in that moment. "You promised! And besides, I did the presentation, and it went really well..."

"That is the problem, Zainab," he exploded, dropping the facade and showing raw anger for the first time. "Your arrogance! You think you know better than everybody. You never listen! A simple acknowledgment during the presentation, 'oh, this was Mr. Akinyemi's idea', but no, you had to play the hero and take the lead. Well, let's see how you lead now."

Zainab's vision blurred red. On the verge of tears, frustration choked her throat. "Promotion?" He laughed harshly. "Forget about it. You should be grateful we pay you anything at all. Do you think there are jobs in Nigeria? Ask around! If not for us, you'd be begging on the streets or crawling back to your daddy."

The cruel words tumbled out with zero mercy. Zainab couldn't take another second. She spun around, marched back to her desk, and buried her face in her arms, trying desperately to muffle her sobs. But the damage was done, and curious eyes watched her break.

As if the universe wanted to finish her off, her phone rang again. It was her younger sister, Lola. She answered, clearing her throat to hide her wrecked voice.

"Hey, Zee!" Lola whined. "I've been calling forever! Did I do something wrong?"

Zainab rolled her eyes, exhausted by her sister's self-centeredness. "No, I've just been busy. What's up?"

"I need money ooo. The last money you sent didn't even last a week, and now I'm empty. You know how school is."

"I sent you 25,000 naira last week," Zainab countered, her voice tight. "How can that not last a week?"

"Will you send it or not? Don't lecture me, school is expensive!" Lola snapped.

"I don't have any money for you, Lola," Zainab said firmly.

"You have to!" Lola shrieked. "I'm telling mummy!"

"Go ahead! Leave me alone and call your father!" Zainab yelled, cutting the call abruptly.

Moments later, her mother called. Zainab picked up, snapped that she was busy, and hung up on her too. She was done. Two more weeks until her freedom. She massaged her throbbing temples, praying she could survive until then.

EPILOGUE

"I can't believe you would do this to your own sister. Your only sister fa!"

Zainab's mum was screaming over a family group conference call. Her father had phoned her earlier to chew her out for being "disrespectful" and forgetting her place, prompting a fiery back and forth where Zainab reminded them they brought her into this world and owed her support, not attitude. Now, the entire family had convened a digital tribunal to judge her.

"Mummy, calm down na," Ayo, Their elder brother, tried to interject. "Let's hear from Zee."

"So I'm the noise maker now?!" their mother shrieked, cutting him off.

When Zainab finally spoke, her voice was ice cold. "Lola called demanding more money when I have nothing. When I said no, she ran to you both to label me irresponsible. I told them the truth: you chose to have children, which means you share responsibility for us. I wasn't dropped on your doorstep by accident."

Ayo let out a startled cough on the line, hiding his shock. Who was this fierce new version of his sister?

"What has come over you, young lady?" her father thundered. "You talk back to your parents?"

"Out of respect and gratitude, I let this family walk all over me for years," Zainab cried, tears finally spilling. "I showed up for mom's surgery, for Lola's matriculation, I even squeezed out time from a toxic job. But when it was my turn? Nobody came to my university graduation. My own parents didn't even bother calling, acting like funding my education was some grand charitable favor! I am tired. If you're all so ashamed of me, feel free to cut me off. Ayo is the only real family I've ever had here anyway."

"Don't say that, Zainab," Ayo cut in gently. "You're my favorite sister, and nobody is cutting you off."

"I have to go back to work," Zainab whispered, ending the call before anyone else could speak.

Almost immediately, a WhatsApp message popped up from Ayo: You okay? She replied, Long story, gist later, and tossed the phone aside. Another message flashed from Ene; Two weeks left. Stay strong. She laughed through her tears and sent a thumbs up emoji.

One month flew by. Standing outside the grand headquarters of the United African Commission, Zainab smoothed down her skirt, feeling a mix of disbelief and liberation. Her old office had desperately tried to retain her at the last minute, offering her a promotion to full Chief Editor with double her salary, plus leadership over the audiobook presentation she pioneered. Yet, shocking even herself, she calmly declined their offer, rejected the promotion, and slapped her formal resignation letter straight onto Mr. Akinyemi's chest instead. She refused to live like that a second longer. She was going to live for herself now.

She smiled, feeling a thrilling mix of fear and contentment. Even if the grant turned out to be a scam, she was going to live life her own way and follow her own dreams from now on.

Recalling the events of her final day at the office, she took a deep breath, telling herself she would accept whatever fate met her inside this new building, and walked up to the front desk in the corner.

. She was done letting other people dictate her worth.

Stepping inside the commission building, she was greeted by a polite receptionist and directed down the hall to the chief's office, followed by a quick stop at the ICT department for biometric verification.

Minutes later, a crisp brown envelope was handed to her. Inside was a certified bank cheque made out in her name: Ten Million Naira.

Her knees buckled, and she collapsed into the nearest chair, staring at the unbelievable numbers. Trembling, she dialed Ene's number.

"Ene!!" she screamed into the phone, tears streaming down her face. "I got it! Ten million naira!"

After babbling her thanks, she hung up and immediately called Ayo, sharing every thrilling detail of her victory. Ayo cheered loudly, completely ignoring the strange looks from his coworkers.

"Mummy and daddy are full of remorse," Ayo whispered conspiratorially. "They want to apologize. Take it easy on them when they call, okay?"

Zainab let out a soft, contented breath. "I'll try, bro. I'll try."

Just then, her phone buzzed with an incoming call from her parents.