The bell rang three times that Sunday morning.
It was Visiting Day the only day the whole school yard buzzed with families, coolers, boxes of food, and the aroma of home-cooked waakye.
Boys ran to the gate.
Some waited with folded arms. Others peeked through the hedges hoping to spot a familiar face.
Kingstar stood quietly under the almond tree near the dining hall, eyes scanning.
No sign of his father's red truck.
No one carrying two bags like last year.
Just one woman… coming closer… with a black handbag and a red scarf.
It was his mother. Alone.
She smiled when she saw him.
"Ei King! You've grown tall ooo."
He smiled back, but his heart sank a little.
"Where's Daddy?"
She hesitated, then looked down.
"He... he's still at home. Things are hard."
They sat on a bench behind the school's chapel. She opened a small cooler.
Yam and kontomire stew. Neatly packed.
She brought bread, soap, and two rolls of toilet paper. No drinks. No biscuits. But her smile stayed warm.
Then she leaned in.
"Your father... they laid him off again. The company said the truck repairs cost too much. Right now, it's just me holding everything. Your little brother needs books. The rent too..."
Kingstar looked away.
"I'll manage," he said.
She nodded. But before she left, she held his shoulders.
"Kingstar, don't let this place change your heart. You were born to rise. Even if it's slow."
He didn't cry. He just held the cooler tight.
That night during prep, he didn't argue. He didn't joke.
He sat still and studied quietly.
The bell rang. Lights out.
But Kingstar stayed up under his blanket, whispering lyrics to a hymn:
"Though trials come, I shall not fall…"
The room was dark.
But inside him, a fire had been relit.