Golden Melody (Editing)

Chapter 131

Chapter 131 – Miexha POV

My brain felt like a toasted marshmallow.
Soft on the inside. Crispy on the outside.
Barely holding together with coffee, crackers, and sheer willpower.

Weeks of sleepless nights. Final thesis submission. Defense week.
I was surviving.
Just barely.

Sonata’s home-cooked meals probably kept me from collapsing. Jamie would peek into my room, banana in hand, and whisper:

“Mommy, are you still doing your paper thingy?”

“Yes, baby. Mommy’s still doing her paper thingy. Mommy is surviving school.”

Thank God for Sonata.
He always picked Jamie up from kindergarten on time, made her snacks, even styled her hair.
While I drowned in pages of composition analysis and performance theory, he always showed up.

I told everyone he wasn’t my boyfriend.
No one believed me.

“He literally fathering your kid,” one classmate said.
“I know,” I answered. “That doesn’t mean he owns my heart.”

But I was grateful to him. Every single day.

I had my phone on Do Not Disturb mode for days now.
Too many unknown numbers calling my number.
If it wasn’t a fake lawyer or an overeager scammer, it was him.
And I wasn’t ready to talk to him yet.

My thesis title?
“Golden Memories: The Healing Power of Personal Music in Post-Adolescence Development.”

It was part research, part autobiography.
It was the story of how I kept singing even when the world stopped listening.

On defense day, I stood in front of the panel, hands trembling.

I didn’t think of grades.
I thought of Jamie.
Of her heartbeat against my chest when she was newborn.
Of the first night she fell asleep to my hums.
Of writing my first full song post-birth, exhausted but alive.

The room clapped gently. The board pannel nodded.

“Congratulations, Miss Verra. That was heartfelt. And solid work.”

I almost cried on the spot.

I walked out on uneven heels and felt… lighter.
Like my soul could finally breathe again.

When I got home, Jamie met me with a crayon sign that said “GOOD JOB MOMMY” in glitter ink.

I knelt and hugged her tight.
She smelled like baby shampoo and dreams.
She was my dream.

---

Graduation smelled like wilting flowers and new beginnings.

I stood backstage in full toga, sweating and jittery while the dean talked about passion, impact, and not falling onstage. I barely heard a word. My heart was pounding like a runaway metronome.

“Dom, Miexha W. — Cum Laude.”

I stepped up.
Bowed. Shook hands.
Felt the medal graze my skin like a whisper saying you did it.

When I turned to step down, I saw them — front row.
Mama in her timeless beige dress, Jamie on her lap in a yellow sundress and a plastic bookstore crown.

“Mommyyyy!” Jamie squealed. “You got a medal!”

I laughed, tears burning, and ran into their arms.

“You’ll get yours next week, love,” I whispered to her, brushing my nose against hers.
“And I’ll be the one clapping loudest.”

My bandmates surrounded me with flowers—Sonata giving the biggest bouquet with a proud smile that said I told you so. Musika and Bluechord yelled like fans at a concert, Nightingale cried like she was at a funeral, and Echojam recorded the whole thing with shaky hands.

I had done it.
I graduated. With honors. As a mother. As a musician.
And most of all, as Miexha Verra—on her own.

---

Dinner was at a fine dining place that smelled like melted butter and adult expectations. I still had my toga on. Jamie sat next to Sonata, who tried to feed her pumpkin soup while she made gag faces.

“She only eats things with sprinkles,” I told him, chuckling.

Eventually, I slipped away to the restroom to change.
I put on a cream-colored dress. My toga folded neatly over my arm, the medal now tucked into my purse. I stared into the mirror, brushing my straight hair behind my ears. No bangs. No curls.
I added a soft rose lipstick, dabbed a little blush, and took a deep breath.

That was when the door opened.

A tall, red-haired woman entered—elegant curves, glossy heels, confidence dripping from her every step.

Her chest was, frankly, a sin.
And her face?

Ofreigha.

I nearly dropped my lip tint.

I turned fast, heart hammering, hoping she hadn’t seen me. I wasn’t ready. Not tonight. Not here.

But just as I reached the door—

“Miexha?”

I froze.

“No, sorry,” I mumbled quickly, keeping my head down.
“Got the wrong person.”

I pushed open the door—only to crash into a wall of warmth.

I stumbled back.
Landed hard on the floor.

My butt hurt. My pride, more.

And when I looked up—

Him.

Jayson.

Shorter hair. Sharper suit. Taller, stronger, colder.
Same impossible presence.

My panic returned instantly. I scrambled to rise.
He stepped forward and braced his arm against the wall to corner me.

"You really thought you could keep running from me?”

I stiffened. “Let go.”

“You blocked every number. Dodged every call. Hid like a coward—”

“FUCK OFF!.” I shoved him back, palms firm on his chest.
“You don’t... get to speak to me like that anymore.”

He flinched. Just slightly.

“I’ll see you in court after Jamie’s graduation,” I said, voice steel.
“We’ll end this marriage. Legally.”

His eyes darkened.
“You really hate me that much?”

I inhaled. My voice cracked.
“Yes! Since the day you left me.”

His mouth opened, ready to spit another excuse. And he did.

“You could’ve come with me! You chose to stay behind!”

“And if I did?!” I asked, trembling.
“You would've hidden me. Like always? Pretended I was decoration?”

My eyes burned.
“I stayed behind, and that was the best choice I ever made. I found my peace. My dreams. I found me.”

I reached for my ring finger.
Slipped off the band.
Looked him dead in the eyes.

“Here. Take it.”

I threw it against his chest.

Then I turned.
And I walked away fast — before my legs betray me.

---

Back at the table, my bandmates stood when they saw my face.
“We’re leaving,” I said simply.

I picked Jamie up. Her arms wrapped around my shoulders, sleepy and warm.
She smiled when I kissed her forehead.

I didn’t look back.

Not at the table.
Not at Jayson.

Because tonight wasn’t about who I used to be.
It wasn’t about what I had lost.

It was about everything I’d found.
And everything I’d become.