Chapter Thirty-Four: Balancing Acts
The semester began not with the usual rush of excitement, but with a thick fog of exhaustion and quiet pressure hanging over Andra's shoulders. Returning to Moi University after the internship, she felt different. The campus hadn't changed—the red-brick buildings, the crowded pavements, the early morning buzz of students dragging themselves to lectures—but she had.
Now, she wasn't just Andra the student or Andra the mother. She was Andra with a part-time job, a four-year-old to raise, a report to finalize, rent to pay, and a heart still learning how to mend itself from disappointment.
The consultancy firm Matata had linked her to was modest but demanding. Twice a week, she made her way to the Eldoret office after lectures. Sometimes she was tasked with scanning blueprints. Other times, she accompanied a team for site inspections in Langas or Pioneer. The pay wasn't much, but it was better than nothing—and more importantly, it gave her hope.
But that balance?
It was brutal.
---
One Thursday morning, Andra found herself sprinting across campus, trying not to trip over her own bag strap. She had woken up late after Kingsley wet the bed in the middle of the night, then refused to eat breakfast. The house-help had called in sick, so she'd left Kingsley with a neighbor's daughter and packed lunch for him in a margarine container.
She reached the lecture hall just as the assistant lecturer was closing the door.
"Andra Summers?" he said, frowning.
She nodded, panting.
"This is the third time you're late to this Building Services class."
"I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again."
But it did. More than once.
---
Programming class was still a nightmare. If civil engineering units gave her blisters and body aches, then programming gave her migraines and self-doubt.
The syntax, the semicolons, the logic gates, the relentless loops that never broke the way they were supposed to—it felt like learning to swim with bricks tied to her ankles. She stayed up nights, trying to debug her code while Kingsley slept beside her. Sometimes she'd cry softly over the keyboard, then wipe her face and keep going.
One of her classmates, Limo, began noticing.
"You know, I could help you with the code," he said casually one afternoon, nudging his laptop toward her.
Andra hesitated. "I don't like help that comes with expectations."
Limo smiled. "Not everyone is Parker, Andra."
The mention of that name still made her chest tighten. She didn't reply. She just took his offer and promised herself not to get too close.
---
She managed to pass her first CAT in Building Materials. It wasn't an A, but it was a decent B. She texted her father the moment she saw the result.
ANDRA: Baba, I passed!
BABA: We knew you would. Your mother has already started telling the neighbors.
She laughed at the reply.
Later that night, when Kingsley hugged her tightly after she read him a bedtime story, she whispered, "One day, you'll tell your story too. And you'll say, 'My mom did all that… for me.'"
---
But her strength wasn't unshakable.
One weekend, when the rent was due and the landlord had banged the gate shouting threats, Andra broke. She called Parker. She didn't want to, but desperation makes strange choices feel logical.
He picked up, sounding groggy.
"Hi," she said softly. "Can you send me something for Kingsley? Anything?"
"I'm broke too, Andra. You think I'm enjoying life?"
"No. I don't think anything anymore," she whispered, then hung up.
---
The next day, Happy walked into their shared rental to find Andra curled up on the floor, tears soaking a pillow.
"You know," Happy said gently, sitting beside her, "your pain is valid. But girl, you're doing more than most people would survive."
Andra smiled through her tears. "I just want to win. Not for me. For him. For my parents."
"Then keep doing what you're doing. You're not losing. You're building."
And in that moment, Andra believed her.
---
By the end of the semester, Andra had submitted her internship report, completed her major projects, and even helped organize a site visit for the younger students. Her lecturers began to know her name not just as a mother trying to keep up, but as a sharp mind with steel in her will.
Life was still messy. Rent still piled. Kingsley still caught colds. She still missed home.
But every day, she chose not to give up.
And that choice? That was everything.