In one popular polytechnic in Nigeria, there lived a young girl named Amara. She was a 200-level student, intelligent, quiet, and full of dreams. But life had never been easy for her. She came from a very poor background where survival mattered more than luxury.
While many students returned to school with expensive clothes, perfumes, and the latest gadgets, Amara struggled just to pay for handouts and feeding. Her mother sold vegetables in the market, while her father worked as a local carpenter whose income could barely sustain the family.
Amara owned a small Android phone with a cracked screen. Though the phone still worked, it became a source of mockery among her friends and roommates. Every night in the hostel, they would snap pictures with their shiny iPhone 17 Pro Max and iPhone 16 devices, laughing loudly while making subtle jokes directed at her.
“Please don’t use that your torchlight phone to spoil our pictures,” one of them mocked.
Another laughed and said, “In this school, if you don’t use iPhone, nobody will take you seriously.”
The words pierced deeply into Amara’s heart. Though she smiled outside, inside she cried every night. She began to feel inferior, unwanted, and ashamed of her background.
At first, she tried to ignore them. She focused on her studies and reminded herself why she came to school. But constant humiliation slowly changed her mindset. She started believing that without expensive things, nobody would respect her.
One evening, after another round of insults from her roommates, she stood before the hostel mirror and whispered to herself:
“I will get my own iPhone through all means.”
Unfortunately, those words became the beginning of her downfall.
Soon, Amara started keeping company with people she normally avoided. She began attending expensive outings sponsored by older men. One particular man noticed her desperation and promised her everything she desired an iPhone, money, clothes, and soft life.
At first, Amara hesitated. But the pressure of fitting in clouded her judgment. She accepted his gifts and slowly got emotionally attached to him.
Within weeks, she became the envy of the same girls who once mocked her. She now carried a brand-new iPhone proudly around campus. Her roommates suddenly became nicer to her. People who ignored her before now wanted her attention.
But behind the fake happiness was a painful secret.
Two months later, Amara started feeling weak and sick. Fear gripped her heart after visiting a clinic. The result changed everything.
She was pregnant.
The man who promised her heaven immediately disappeared. Calls went unanswered. Messages were ignored. The same friends who praised her new lifestyle abandoned her one after another.
Her expensive phone could not wipe away her tears.
Her grades began to fall. She stopped attending lectures regularly. Depression consumed her. Every night, she remembered the day she allowed people’s opinions to control her decisions.
One afternoon, Amara sat alone under a tree on campus, holding the iPhone that once made her feel important. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she realized something painful:
The phone gave her temporary attention, but it cost her peace, dignity, and the future she once dreamed of.
At that moment, she finally understood that comparison is one of the fastest ways to destroy oneself.
Not everyone showing wealth is truly happy. Some people are only showing off what their parents can afford, while others are secretly suffering to maintain appearances.
Amara’s story became a lesson to many students in the school:
Never trade your future for temporary validation. Never let mockery push you into dangerous decisions. And never believe that your worth is measured by the type of phone you carry.
Sometimes, the greatest success is surviving hardship with your values intact.
