njee

At just 24, Andra Summers finds herself navigating the joys and burdens of new motherhood while chasing the future she once dreamed of. With a four-year-old son, a distant father who floats between charm and absence, and no steady income, she leans heavily on the strength of her aging parents, her sisters’ sacrifices, and friends who step in where love falters.

When Kingsley's father, Parker—once a dreamer with political ambitions—proposes at their son’s six-month baby shower, Andra, overwhelmed by post-partum depression and unmet promises, rejects him publicly. What follows is a slow unraveling of illusions. Andra returns to school with Kingsley on her back and determination in her heart. But when money runs out, the pressure mounts. A missed salary payment. A broken promise. A loan her mother silently takes to protect her dignity.

As Parker's love continues to flicker in and out, Andra learns to depend on no one but herself. She hardens with grace—smiling politely at his new girlfriends while quietly chasing a better life for her son.

What She Carried is a heartfelt tale of resilience, silent sacrifices, and the quiet strength it takes to rise while the world expects you to beg. Andra doesn’t just carry a child—she carries generations of hope, pain, and the fierce will to never be a story of failure.

What She Carried

Chapter Fifteen: "Blueprints and Brackets"

The sun over Lindali Campus shimmered like copper sheets. Andra crossed the wide courtyard between the Faculty of Engineering and the School of Education, juggling a T-square, rolled-up site plan, and a flash drive that held her newly written C++ code—her first successful program.

It only added and subtracted, but it worked.

She'd tested it six times the night before, trembling every time the console displayed the correct answer. Ken had cheered when she'd sent him a screenshot.

Now, with the semester pushing toward finals, Andra found herself on more solid ground than she'd expected.

In her Surveying and Leveling class, she stood in the middle of the field behind the lab, peering through a theodolite mounted on its tripod.

"Take the backsight reading," her lab partner called out.

She adjusted the scope, noted the elevation, then marked the difference on her drawing sheet. They were calculating gradients for a road that would theoretically run through the hilly terrain between the hostels and the staff quarters.

The data felt real, physical, something she could almost touch. Angles, elevation, inclination—all of it made sense to her.

She loved that about Building and Civil Technology. There was something honest about it. When something failed, it was either miscalculated or under-designed. And once you corrected it, it stood strong.

She had barely spoken to him lately. He'd sent her Ksh 1000 two weeks ago after she told him Kingsley needed new shoes. No explanation. No follow-up. Nothing since.

But Andra no longer waited for his calls or asked why he hadn't checked in.

She studied in quiet corners of the library now, reviewed Ms. Oduor's programming exercises every Thursday, and even joined a small group of girls in the coding club. They were working on a basic mobile app to help students calculate their grades—a project that still made her break into a cold sweat but excited her all the same.

One night, after finishing Kingsley's homework with him, she tucked him into bed and sat at her desk, opening her sketchbook and her laptop.

On one side: a cross-section of a foundation footing for a residential house.

She wanted to teach this one day—to help kids from villages like hers learn how to build their dreams, code their way out of silence, draw strength from structure.

She smiled softly to herself, then wrote down a line in her journal:

> Kingsley will see me win. One class at a time, one wall at a time, one program at a time.

Outside, the night wrapped itself around the dorm building like a warm shawl. Inside, Andra Summers kept building—brick by digital brick.