The midday sun beats down hard, the heat rising from the pavement like a mirage. The streets of Wuye are alive, filled with the sounds of laughter, bartering, and the hum of life. But today, my attention is elsewhere. I stand in front of Auntie's stall, my cracked **Android** phone clutched in my hand. It's been with me since I was 16, and even though the screen is badly scratched, I trust it more than anything else.

I swipe the cracked screen, the familiar click of the worn-out buttons feeling almost comforting. Suddenly, a **ping**—the notification sound I’ve heard countless times. I pull down the notification bar, and there it is: a new message from Gmail. The subject line makes my heart skip a beat: "Full Scholarship Acceptance: University of Sharman, Catalania."

I freeze. The words on the screen blur for a moment, and I blink hard, trying to focus. The email isn’t long—just a few lines. A fully-sponsored scholarship for higher education at Sharman University in Catalania, a place I’ve only seen in passing in books or random internet searches. My heart races, and my palms begin to sweat despite the heat.

I can hardly believe it.

I read it again. “We are pleased to inform you that you have been awarded a full scholarship to study at the University of Sharman, Catalania, for your higher education. Your tuition, accommodation, and living expenses will be fully covered. We look forward to your acceptance and commencement of studies.”

I almost feel like I’m dreaming.

It’s everything I’ve worked for. Everything I thought might be out of reach.

I scroll down. There's more—details about the program, the start date, and the steps I need to take to confirm my spot. But it’s the end that catches me off guard. “Welcome to the future of your education. This is just the beginning.”

I swallow hard, pushing the phone back into my pocket.

I stand there for a long moment, letting the words echo in my head. The idea of leaving Wuye, leaving Auntie behind, feels like a weight in my chest. I can’t even begin to process it. The thought of going to Catalania sounds like something from a dream—too far, too alien.

Stolen novel; please report.

I shake my head to clear the thoughts, trying to bring myself back to the present.

Auntie waves from her stall, but her gaze falls to the tricycle that has just pulled up beside her. The ice block delivery has arrived, a few large sacks of 'ice blocks' stacked high on the back. The 'minerals' she sells on the side—Pepsi, Coca-Cola, Fanta, and the like—are the lifeblood of her business. But in this heat, it’s the ice that keeps people coming back. When the power’s gone, it’s the only way to keep things cool.

I glance back at the email one more time. The scholarship feels like an escape, but it’s also the heaviest thing I’ve ever carried.

I walk toward Auntie’s stall, my gaze drawn to the ice blocks. The tricycle driver hops off, grinning as he starts unloading the sacks. Auntie isn’t able to help much, but it’s nothing new. She’s used to it. Still, I see the effort it takes for her to keep things together.

I step forward, my muscles tightening as I prepare to help.

Auntie turns to me, her face a mix of exhaustion and pride. "Kyon, you no need help? The sacks go heavy. No worry, I fit manage."

I glance at the sacks, each one weighing close to 35 kg, and without saying a word, I bend down, lifting the first one easily. I stack the next two, one by one, and place them on my head.

It's effortless. Like lifting a sack of flour.

Auntie’s eyes widen, and the group of roadside vendors and bystanders who had been milling about pause, watching in disbelief. Some shake their heads in awe, while others let out murmurs of amazement. A few even pull out their phones to capture the moment.

"O boy, you dey carry three at once? E no be small thing, no," one of the vendors comments, laughing in disbelief.

"That boy get strength like animal o," another one chuckles.

I set the sacks down in front of the stall, brushing the sweat from my brow, trying to ignore the eyes that are now on me. But it’s hard to. I’ve always been the one people watch. The one people talk about behind my back. The one who’s different.

“Kyon, you strong like bull o,” Auntie says, shaking her head in awe. Her voice is filled with both pride and concern. “Don’t carry too much, okay?”

I nod, but my mind is elsewhere.

The strength. The power I can’t escape. It’s a part of me, always there, always ready to burst out. But it makes me feel out of place in my own skin. No one can really understand it—not even Auntie. I’ve tried to hold back, tried to fit in, but there’s no hiding what I am.

I walk back to the stall, wiping my hands on my pants. The scholarship letter still weighs heavily in my pocket, but I push it out of my mind for now.

“Auntie, I need to go. I’ll be back soon.”

She gives me a long, hard look, sensing something’s off. But she says nothing. Instead, she just nods, returning to her work.

As I walk away from the stall, my heart beats a little faster. The scholarship could be my ticket out of here. Out of Wuye. Out of this place where I’ll never fit in. Out of the shadows of my own bloodline. But it means leaving behind everything I know.

And I don’t know if I’m ready to face that.