Initially, I believed the blindness was temporary. I repeatedly waved my hands before my eyes, hoping to glimpse them.
Nothing appeared.
As weeks became months, I slowly accepted that my sight was permanently gone.
I resented depending on others, especially at school, where classmates hurried through corridors while I navigated by touching lockers.
But I refused to surrender.
I learned Braille, memorized room layouts by counting steps, and trained myself to recognize subtle changes in people’s breathing.
Eventually, I graduated from high school with honors and entered university.
Although I built an independent life, my greatest wish remained unchanged: to see again.
Every year, I visited an eye specialist, desperately holding on to hope.
At twenty-four, one appointment changed my future.
