They hugged tightly.
“I thought you couldn’t come.”
Her mother whispered,
“I wanted to surprise you.”
Nia cried into her shoulder.
“You scared me.”
“I know.”
Her mother pulled back.
“And there’s something else you don’t know.”
Nia looked at her.
“Your scholarship was almost canceled six months ago.”
Nia’s face changed.
“What?”
“Your financial aid situation became complicated after Micah was born. You were close to losing the funding.”
Nia remembered those weeks.
She had been terrified.
Her mother continued.
“That’s when I contacted the university.”
Nia stared at her.
“I asked them to look at everything you had accomplished.”
“Mom…”
“I didn’t have enough money to solve your problems.”
She smiled.
“But I knew people who could help.”
Nia hugged her again.
After the ceremony, Nia’s phone wouldn’t stop ringing.
Professors congratulated her.
Classmates apologized.
Some of the students who had laughed approached her.
One young man looked embarrassed.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Nia nodded.
“Thank you.”
“I didn’t know.”
Nia smiled slightly.
“That’s the problem.”
He looked at her.
“What do you mean?”
“People usually laugh at what they don’t understand.”
He lowered his head.
“I deserved that.”
“No,” Nia said.
“You deserved a chance to learn.”
That sentence stayed with him.
Months later, he would become one of the volunteers for the new student-parent program.
Three months after graduation, Nia received an email.
She had been offered a position at a financial services company.
The salary was more than double what she had earned working during college.
The benefits included health insurance.
Paid parental leave.
Retirement contributions.
And childcare assistance.
Nia stared at the offer for several minutes.
Then she called her mother.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“I got the job.”
Her mother was silent.
Then Nia heard her crying.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Her mother laughed through her tears.
“I’m just remembering the little girl who used to sit at the kitchen table doing homework while I worked.”
Nia looked at Micah, who was sleeping beside her.
“She made it.”
Her mother smiled.
“She did.”
Five years later, Nia returned to Westbridge University.
This time, she wasn’t wearing a graduation gown.
She was wearing a tailored navy suit.
Micah, now five years old, walked beside her holding her hand.
Nia had become a senior financial analyst.
