Awdjo kondiviż

I still remember the exact moment they laughed at me. It wasn’t just a small laugh. It was loud. Cruel. Humiliating. The kind of laugh that stays in your head for years. I was standing in the middle of the room. Nervous. Holding my dreams in my hands. And they looked at me like I was nothing. “You?” my cousin said. “You think you can make it?” Then they all started laughing. My uncle shook his head. “Be realistic,” he said. “People like us don’t become successful.” My mom didn’t even defend me.