I blinked. ND1?

“Where are your parents?” my husband asked gently.

He swallowed. “They died when I was five. I was raised by my grandma, but she passed away three years ago.”

My chest tightened.

“So you’ve been on your own since then?”

“Yes ma,” he nodded.

I swear, I had to swallow the lump in my throat.

He had every reason to go astray, to become bitter, to be entitled, but he chose a different path. A path of hard work, dignity, and quiet resilience.

I looked at my husband. That was it.

We had to help him.

We encouraged him to get the HND form. He did, and registered for part-time with some of the savings he had already gathered. We paid the rest of his school fees.