SUPERNOVA

Part one: The Red Super-giant

"A red super-giant star
approaches the end of its
life. There is no more fuel
to burn and make it shine.
Soon its massive dense
core is bound to collapse
under its own weight."

Nova

"Nova Desir," the announcer's voice rang out over the microphone, echoing across the auditorium.

I took a deep breath and stepped onto the stage, my heels clicking softly against the polished floor. The lights were blinding, the sea of faces a blur, but I walked with purpose. I reached out, accepted my diploma with both hands, and shook hands with each faculty member. Their smiles were warm, congratulatory—but distant, like part of a dream I still hadn't fully woken up from.

The crowd erupted in applause, but one voice soared above the rest—my mom's.
"That's my baby!" she screamed, her voice cracking with joy.

I couldn't help but smile, my chest tight with a mix of pride, relief, and something else I couldn't quite name. I walked back to my seat, diploma clutched to my chest, and let the moment settle around me.

This was it.
Two long, complicated, life-altering years had finally come to an end. I was free. And yet, I wasn't sure what that freedom meant anymore.

I was happy... but also hollow.
Excited... but scared.
Relieved... but uncertain.

I had spent so much time surviving, running from what broke me, focusing all my energy on healing. But now that I was standing on the other side of it, I hadn't really thought about what came next—what it would mean to go back home, to face the version of me that used to exist there. Or worse—to face him.

But not everything about these past two years had been hard. There was a light in all that darkness—and her name was Namaari Karter.

She became my lifeline in this place. Light-skinned, dusted with freckles, with light green eyes that looked like springtime and a mess of soft blonde curls that danced whenever she laughed. We started off as roommates, and she soon became my first real friend at boarding school. The kind of friend who didn't need to be asked to care—she just did.

Most of our deepest conversations happened in the little salon chair she brought from home. She styled my hair like it was an art form, and somehow, with her fingers in my curls, I ended up telling her everything—my childhood, my trauma, the boy I ran from, the panic attacks that choked me in the middle of the night.

And she never once looked at me like I was broken.

She was the first person to ever talk me through a panic attack—sitting with me on the floor of our dorm, hand on my back, whispering, "Breathe, Nova. Just breathe with me." I don't think I could've made it through this chapter of my life without her.

And thank God she didn't live far. Her town was only about thirty minutes from mine, and I'd already decided—I'd drive that distance every damn day if I had to. Life without Namaari just wasn't an option.

"Namaari Karter," the announcer called next.

I jumped out of my seat, cupping my hands to my mouth and screaming, "Go, Mari! That's my girl!"
She heard me—of course she did. She turned mid-stride and flashed me a dazzling smile.

She looked radiant under the stage lights. Her blonde curls flowed like golden ribbons beneath her cap, and her skin glowed like warm caramel kissed by the sun. She belonged in the spotlight, and every step she took made it clear. I couldn't stop smiling.

She had flat-ironed my hair for the ceremony, so we weren't rocking our usual matching curly Afros. I'd even dyed my hair a rich dark ginger while I was here—one of many small rebellions that made me feel like myself again. I had a nose piercing now. A belly ring, too. And the tattoo was coming. I was changing, and I liked who I was becoming.

The names kept being called—15 more. I counted them like prayers, hoping it would pass quickly.

"Emily Young." The final name.

All of us stood, our energy buzzing with anticipation.

"Students... you made it. I'm so proud of every one of you. You may now throw your caps!"

The air erupted with cheers and the thunder of fabric caps sailing into the sky. I caught mine mid-air and beelined towards Mari. She was already waiting, arms outstretched.

We collapsed into each other's embrace, laughing through happy tears.
"We did it, Mari," I said, voice cracking.
"Finally!" she breathed, her relief echoing my own.

"Come on," I said, taking her hand. "I want you to meet my parents."

The introductions felt like a family reunion that had just taken its time arriving. My mom instantly adored her, hugging Mari like she was one of her own. Her parents joined us, and just like that, our mothers were best friends—giggling, complimenting, already talking about m holiday visits.

They took pictures like paparazzi—us in our gowns, us with our caps, us laughing, us crying. And I didn't mind. For once, I wanted to freeze the moment in time.

Eventually, the crowd began to thin. The celebration had to end.

"Okay, Nova," Mari said, holding me in one last hug. "I'll see you Monday. Don't miss me too much."

I laughed softly. "I'm going to miss you no matter what."

"See you soon," she whispered.

My mom called out gently, "Alright honey, time to head out."

I gave Mari one last wave as we drove off, watching her until she disappeared in the rearview mirror. I closed my eyes and whispered, "Please let the weekend go by fast."

The drive home was long. My mom spent most of it asking question after question—what I ate, who I met, what I learned, who I kissed (which I dodged). I answered as much as I could with my head against the window, exhaustion beginning to set in.

When we finally pulled into the driveway, I stepped out of the car and stood there for a second, just staring at the house.

I walked in with only one bag, too tired to care about the rest. My room smelled the same—soft lavender and clean sheets—and looked like a time capsule. Nothing had changed. But I had.

I flopped onto the bed, sinking into the familiar comfort of my mattress. I didn't even care that I still had my clothes on. Normally that would've driven me crazy, but tonight? Sleep won.

I pulled my bonnet from my bag, wrapped my hair, changed into my softest pajamas, and curled up under the warmest blanket I owned.

Tomorrow, I'd call everyone.
Tomorrow, I'd start figuring out what came next.
But tonight, I was home.

And for the first time in a long time... that didn't scare me.