The cursor blinked at me from the screen, almost taunting. Full Name: it read. I typed carefully, triple-checking each letter before moving on.
My hands felt clammy, even though the fan above me hummed lazily, stirring the warm evening air.
This was it — the first step toward something bigger than this house, these walls, this endless cycle of criticism.
“Aira was right,” I whispered to myself. “If I don’t try, I’ll regret it forever.”
Stacks of photocopied transcripts and certificates lay beside me on the bed. I had begged the college administration for stamped copies and held onto them like they were treasure. I scanned them one by one, attaching the files to my application.
My heart thudded louder with each click.
When it asked for a personal statement, I hesitated. The blank box seemed endless. What could I possibly write that would make someone thousands of miles away believe in me?
I leaned back, closed my eyes, and let the words come.
"I want to study because I believe knowledge is the only thing that cannot be taken away. I want to contribute to society, not just exist in its shadows. I have lived a life where silence was survival, but in silence, I have learned patience, observation, and resilience. I want to turn these into strength"
When I finished, I read it twice, fighting the urge to delete everything. Then I hit “Save Draft.”
It was nearly midnight when I finally attached the last recommendation letter and filled out the final detail. My eyelids were heavy, but adrenaline buzzed through my veins.
I moved the mouse toward the button. Submit Application.
My finger hovered. For a moment, doubt crept in — Nargis’s voice echoing in my head, Baba’s silence, the suffocating weight of their expectations. They’ll never allow it. They’ll laugh at me.
But another voice pushed through, quiet but firm: This is your life, Hiba. If you don’t fight for it, no one else will.
I clicked.
The confirmation screen popped up. “Your application has been submitted successfully.”
I let out a shaky laugh, covering my mouth so I wouldn’t wake anyone.
Lying back on my bed, I stared at the ceiling, my chest rising and falling with a mix of fear and triumph.
“Please,” I whispered into the dark. “Please let this be my way out.”
And for the first time in a long while, I allowed myself to hope.
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