The auditorium pulsed with excitement. Banners lined the walls, music echoed through the corridors, and the audience was packed with students, teachers, and even a few parents. It was the final day of the Talent Showcase—and the air was thick with anticipation.
Each group had prepared for weeks, rehearsing during and after school hours. But this wasn't just for fun—it would impact their academic evaluation. Winning meant a boost in points that could shift grades and recognition.
Backstage, Angel stood beside her group—Mimi, Kelly V, Jordan, and Karen, the younger girl who had been added last-minute. Karen was nervous but eager; she was quiet in her own class and didn't really have anyone she clicked with, so being part of this group meant more than just a performance to her.
Angel didn't say much, but her presence was grounding. Her confidence didn't shout—it burned steadily, silently. Bryan, calm as always, adjusted a mic on his collar and nodded at the group.
"You all ready?" he asked.
"I was born ready," Mimi grinned, her hands on her hips.
"I'll try not to faint," Karen whispered nervously. Kelly V looped her arm through hers.
"You won't. You've got us."
Angel glanced at them all, then said, "Let's burn the stage down."
They were called up. The lights hit. And the music began.
Their act opened with spoken word—Angel's voice rang clear and steady. It was a piece about finding light after grief, about how sometimes silence says more than noise. Then the beat dropped, and Mimi led the choreography while Kelly V added harmonies. Karen, though young, moved with surprising rhythm, and Jordan—elegant and sharp—added a presence that turned heads.
The crowd watched, mesmerized.
Angel didn't miss a step.
She didn't look at the audience. She focused on her movements, on her breathing, on Andrew's voice in her mind from years ago—"We're just stars showing off."
When it ended, the stage held still. For a breath.
Then the hall erupted.
Students cheered. Some stood to clap. Teachers nodded in approval.
Victor, seated near the front, narrowed his eyes slightly. His own group had done well—but this? This was... different.
Later, when the results were announced, Angel's group was declared the winner.
Karen squeaked in disbelief, her hands covering her face. Mimi and Kelly V shouted in joy. Jordan just smiled, calm and proud.
Angel smiled too—wide, unguarded.
It was the first time she had truly laughed in a long time.
At lunch the next day, they sat at the far table near the windows—Angel, Mimi, Kelly V, and Karen. The table wasn't loud, but it was full of energy. Karen stayed close to Kelly V, always nervous someone would tell her she didn't belong there.
No one did.
Angel didn't say much, but she smiled as they chatted about everything from classes to teachers to how Jordan got cheers from girls in three different sections.
"He's too quiet to even notice," Mimi said.
Angel muttered, "He notices everything. He just doesn't waste words."
"Deep," Kelly V replied. "You into him?"
Angel raised a brow. "I'm not into anyone."
Karen looked down, smiling to herself. Angel was becoming her role model—and she knew it.
That evening, Angel returned home, expecting her usual silence.
But something was different.
Her father's boots weren't by the door.
And someone was singing softly in the kitchen.
She walked in to find Mama Mma, the new nanny, wearing an apron and stirring a pot.
"Ah, you're back," she said with a warm smile. "Come. Sit. Let me feed you. Your papa said to make sure you're not eating air."
Angel sat slowly, watching her. She still wasn't used to the new nanny, but... this felt okay.
"Your papa will be back late," Mama Ije added. "Work things. Important ones."
Angel didn't reply. She just picked at the rice and stew quietly, thinking.
Miles away, in a dim military office, Captain Dewson stood alone.
Maps and charts littered his table. A file labeled "Delta Region—High Risk Zone" lay open.
He stared at it for a while, then closed it.
In his hands was a photo—Angel as a baby in her mother's arms. Andrew, just a toddler then, holding onto his father's boots like he was ready to grow into them.
Captain Dewson took a deep breath.
Then he smiled to himself—not because he was happy, but because he needed to be strong.
For her.
Always for Angel.