Life didn't always give second chances, but sometimes, when one truly needed them, they came in unexpected ways.
For the past week, Akutu had been trying to move forward—to heal, to breathe, to find joy in the little things again. But one thing still lingered in her mind. The failed presentation.
She hadn't spoken to her group members about it. She hadn't asked how they managed without her. The thought of facing them again made her stomach tighten with guilt.
But she couldn't avoid it forever.
That morning, as she walked into the lecture hall, she felt eyes on her. Some were curious. Some were judgmental. She kept her head up.
Then, a class rep walked over. "Akutu, the lecturer wants to see you after class."
Her heart sank. This was it. She was going to be scolded, maybe even penalized for walking out.
After the lecture, she made her way to the lecturer's office, each step heavier than the last. When she entered, Professor Mensah looked up from his papers.
"Miss Akutu," he said. "Do you know why I asked to see you?"
She nodded slowly. "Because of the presentation."
He studied her for a moment. Then he said, "Yes, but not for the reason you think."
She frowned. "I—I'm sorry for what happened, sir. I didn't mean to leave my group like that."
Professor Mensah leaned back in his chair. "I heard what happened. You're not in trouble, Akutu. But I need to ask—was it just nerves, or is something bigger going on?"
She hesitated. Then, for the first time, she told the truth.
"I was overwhelmed," she admitted. "I wasn't sleeping, wasn't eating properly. I thought I could handle everything, but… I broke."
He nodded as if he understood. "You're not the first student to go through this, and you won't be the last. But avoiding your struggles isn't the answer."
She swallowed. "I know."
There was a pause, then he said, "I'm giving you a second chance. Next week, I want you to redo your section of the presentation—just you. No pressure, no rush. Just a chance to prove to yourself that you can do it."
Akutu's eyes widened. "A second chance?"
He nodded. "Will you take it?"
She took a deep breath. "Yes. I will."
For the next few days, she prepared—not obsessively, but steadily. She practiced in front of the mirror, in front of Jenny, even in front of Kweku, who offered surprisingly good advice.
The day of the presentation, as she stood before the class again, her heart pounded. But this time, she didn't run.
She spoke.
And this time, she finished.
The class clapped. It wasn't perfect, but it didn't have to be.
Because sometimes, second chances weren't about erasing the past—they were about proving to yourself that you could do better.
The pulleys of life had shifted once again.