They say friends are the family you choose, but sometimes, I think they’re also the fairy godmothers that transform you just in time for the ball. My life’s biggest transformation didn’t come from a romantic partner, a job offer, or moving to a new city. It came from my friend Leila. She swept into my world like a warm breeze off the Mediterranean, changing everything in her wake. And while I didn’t realize it at the time, she taught me more about love, resilience, and personal freedom than years of formal education ever could.

Here’s the story of how a girl from Cairo with the sass of a Nora Ephron rom-com protagonist became my lifelong guide to becoming unapologetically myself.

The Friend We All Want to Be

Leila and I met during a particularly uninspiring social event in Paris—one of those stiff, obligatory gatherings for international students where small talk felt like pulling teeth. She appeared beside me at the buffet table, holding an alarming number of mini croissants. Her opening line? “I’m not here to network with future diplomats. I’m here for the carbs.”

Something about her bluntness made me laugh, and, before I knew it, I’d found my first real friend at Sciences Po. We didn’t come from the same world exactly—she was raised in Cairo and had fully embraced her fiery Egyptian personality, whereas I was still figuring out how my own culture fit into the Parisian cool-girl mold. Yet we shared an unspoken connection of being women caught between two places, two identities, two expectations.

Leila would later joke that I was “the safe one,” the voice of reason in her otherwise chaotic life. What she didn’t realize is that I envied her chaos—the confidence, the audacity to take risks instead of endlessly weighing the cost like a Libra in freefall. She didn’t just approach life like it was an adventure; she expected it to be, and that mindset alone was magnetic.

The Night I Learned to Risk It All

Leila’s lessons weren’t of the sit-down, heart-to-heart variety. No, her wisdom was more like sneaking vegetables into a pasta sauce—served up subtly but nourishing nonetheless.

One turning point came during a small dinner party we attended in a cramped Parisian apartment, the type of gathering where mismatched chairs surround a wobbly IKEA table. I’d been quietly nursing a glass of wine, overwhelmed by the impossibly good-looking crowd, when I noticed Leila locking eyes with someone across the room. Without hesitation, she walked over, introduced herself, and began chatting as if they’d known each other for years.

When I asked her later how she managed to be so fearless, she shrugged. “What’s the worst that can happen? He’s boring? I’ll excuse myself, get some dessert, and try again. Life is too short to wait for someone to notice you first.”

Her words echoed in my mind long after the evening ended. While I wasn’t exactly ready to abandon my natural reserve, I decided to start living with a bit more Leila-style boldness. Spoiler alert: it works. Whether it’s pursuing a dreamy job or striking up conversations without overthinking, I’ve learned that half the battle is simply showing up fully, as yourself, without apology.

The Love Lesson I Didn’t See Coming

Oddly enough, Leila never sought out relationships for the sake of having them. It wasn’t about ticking the societal box labeled “Find a Partner.” She had what I lacked at the time—a sense that remaining single could just as easily be an empowering choice.

When she did fall in love, it wasn’t in the dramatic, head-over-heels way we’re sold in romantic comedies. It was slower, steadier—a mutual meeting of equals. Her partner appreciated her independence, her humor, and her refusal to dim her light. For once, I wasn’t jealous of her whirlwind life. I was simply inspired.

Leila showed me that you don’t have to choose between love and self-growth. In the right relationship, they feed into each other like two rivers merging. “You’re not looking for someone to complete you,” she once told me. “You’re looking for someone who adds to who you already are.”

I can still hear her words now, and they’ve saved me countless times from settling for less.

The Leila Effect and Everyday Bravery

If Leila were a self-help book, she’d probably be called something like How to Be Brave in Ten Small Steps. And her advice wouldn’t sound like some guru spouting buzzwords about manifesting abundance. It would be practical, sassy, and real.

  • Say Yes When You Want to Say No to Fear: Whether it’s dancing at a party before anyone else dares to join or volunteering for a project you’re not entirely sure you’re ready for, panic rarely pays off. Act first, figure it out as you go.
  • Invest in People Who Invest in You: One of Leila’s underrated skills was knowing when to stop wasting her energy on people who didn’t value her. It’s okay to let certain friendships or relationships fade.
  • Laugh at Yourself, Often: I awkwardly tripped while trying to impress someone once. Leila howled with laughter and said, “Your flirt game is terrible. But that’s why they’ll love you.” She was right.

A Friendship That Stays With You

After Paris, life took us in different directions—Leila to Cairo and then Dubai, me to London with occasional stints back in Alexandria. But we keep in touch like so many diasporic friendships do: long voice notes, photos of sunsets, and late-night rants about life’s absurdities.

These days, when I face a moment of uncertainty, I ask myself, “What would Leila do?” And the answer is usually something like: “Stop overthinking it, Zahra!”

She taught me that bravery isn’t loud or flashy. It’s the quiet choices you make every day to live honestly, love boldly, and guard your sense of humor fiercely. And if you need proof? I’m writing this for you—even though, five years ago, I’d have been too paralyzed by imposter syndrome to even try.

So here’s to the friends who shake us awake and make us stronger—one laugh, one tough-love pep talk, and maybe one too many mini croissants at a time.