41

The air outside was sharp and brisk as I stepped out of my apartment building, but there was a stillness in the sky that gave me peace. The clouds hung low and soft, like they knew better than to disturb me. I'd woken up before sunrise, barely speaking, sipping my tea in silence while Kamala laced up my boots and buttoned my coat for me like I was five years old again. Her eyes held me steady more than any practice test ever could.

"You've already done the hard part," she said, voice smooth and unshakable. "Just go in there and prove it."

I didn't reply—I didn't need to. I kissed her, twice. Once soft, once for luck.

The testing center was inside a quiet office building in downtown D.C. I arrived early, checking in and placing my phone into a locked pouch like everyone else. The lights were cold and fluorescent. The chairs were metal and stiff. But none of it fazed me. I sat at my assigned spot, unbothered by the rustling of other students or the scratch of pencils or nervous foot taps. For once, there was nothing in my head but clarity. I remembered Kamala's hand on my back. Her voice in my ear. You are enough. You are more than enough.

And I believed her.

When the exam began, my fingers moved with ease. The logic games weren't my enemy today—they were puzzles I'd already solved in another life. My reading comprehension was sharp, and I timed my breaks down to the second. No rushing. No panic. I had trained for this. Suffered through it. Grew in it. By the time I handed in my materials and walked out, I didn't feel drained. I felt... whole. Like a chapter had closed and I'd written every word of it.

Kamala was waiting by the car, her coat wrapped tight around her and a coffee in each hand. Her face brightened when she saw me.

"Done?"

"Done."

She handed me the cup and tucked a curl behind my ear. "How do you feel?"

I took a long sip and smiled. "Like I just beat the boss level of the hardest video game in existence."

"Hell yeah, you did." She pulled me close and kissed my forehead, her gloved hands on either side of my face. "I'm proud of you."

I didn't need balloons or flowers. That was enough.

—

Later that evening, I was curled up on the couch in sweatpants, Rome asleep in my lap, and Kamala sitting beside me with a blanket over her knees and her reading glasses perched halfway down her nose. We were watching some British mystery show, the kind that moved too slow for me and just slow enough for her. My phone buzzed from across the room, and I didn't even move to get it. But Kamala did.

"You've got mail," she said casually, handing it over.

I squinted at the notification. It was from the university.

Subject: Spring Commencement Honors Notification

My heart paused. My fingers trembled slightly as I opened it.

Dear Mariah Reyes,

It is with great pleasure that we inform you that you have earned the distinction of Valedictorian for the graduating class of 2025. Your academic excellence, leadership, and service to the university have distinguished you as the highest-ranking graduate of your class.

I reread it. Twice.

Then I threw the phone down and covered my face with my hands.

"Mariah?" Kamala's voice was low and alarmed. "What happened? What's wrong?"

I laughed. Laughed. That kind of laugh where your chest cracks open and you're half-crying, half-disbelieving. "I'm valedictorian."

She blinked, then her face broke into that rare, bright smile she saved for moments like this. "What?!"

"I'm valedictorian," I said again, this time louder, almost shouting it as I pulled Rome off my lap and launched myself into Kamala's arms.

She caught me easily, and we both fell back into the cushions. I could feel her laughing against my neck, hands rubbing my back, my curls tangling into hers.

"God, baby," she whispered, voice full and proud. "You did it. You really did it."

For a moment, we just sat there in the stillness of our little world—our little pocket of joy, untouched by everything that had come before. No secrets. No jealousy. No fear. Just us, and the weight of everything I'd worked for finally lifting off my shoulders.

I kissed her then, slowly, and it wasn't about proving anything. It wasn't about being sorry, or fixing what had been broken. It was about this. A girl who never believed she could stand at the top of her class, now holding the title in her hand. And the woman who helped her believe.

"I can't wait to see you walk across that stage," Kamala murmured, pulling back just enough to cup my cheek.

"I can't wait for you to be there."

Her eyes softened. "Front row. Crying, probably."

"I'll be crying too," I whispered, resting my forehead against hers.

"Good," she breathed. "We'll cry together."

And just like that, I knew: the future didn't have to be terrifying. Not when I had her. Not when I had myself._______

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