The circus grounds slept under a velvet sky. The big top, so loud by day, now loomed like a resting giant. Lanterns guttered in the breeze. Crickets chirped in the tall grass, their rhythm steady as a heartbeat.
Naki lay awake in the cramped Mensah caravan, staring at the ceiling beams. Her clown costume hung from a peg, limp and mocking. The laughter of the crowd still rang in her ears, but all she remembered was the moment in the air—her flip, her flight, her truth.
A soft tap at the window startled her.
"Naki-girl," came Grandpa Ofori's voice, raspy but kind. "Up. I've something to show you."
Naki slipped out, barefoot, clutching her patched shawl. The old man's eyes twinkled like lantern light. Once, he had been the ringmaster who carried the Mensah name to fame. Now, stooped and silver-haired, he was her only ally.
"Follow me, quiet now," he whispered.
They crept through the sleeping caravans until they reached the rehearsal tent. Its ropes creaked in the night breeze, and the trapeze swayed gently above, waiting.
Naki's breath caught. "Grandpa, Ma said—"
"Your mother fears the past," Ofori interrupted softly. "But you, child… you have the gift she buried. The ropes call to you. Tonight, we answer."
He lit a single lamp, casting a golden circle on the dusty floor. The ropes glowed like threads spun from the moon.
Naki's palms itched as he handed her a length of chalk. "For your hands," he said. "Sweat is the enemy up there."
She stared at the ladder that led into the rafters. Her heart hammered. "What if I fall?"
Ofori's smile was gentle but fierce. "Then I'll catch you. But I think you'll fly."
Step by step, she climbed. The ladder groaned beneath her weight. When she reached the platform, the whole tent stretched below her like another world. For a moment, fear pinned her in place.
"Don't think," Ofori called softly. "Feel. The rope isn't your enemy. It's your partner."
She wrapped her hands around the bar. The rope swayed. Her breath stilled. And then—she leapt.
The air rushed past, cool and alive. Her body arced, her legs split in perfect form. For the first time, there was no paint, no mask, no laughter that wasn't hers. Just freedom.
She landed, knees trembling, but her heart soared.
Grandpa Ofori clapped, tears glinting in his eyes. "Ha! There's my granddaughter. The world may see a clown, but I see the Flying Star."
Naki's lips curved into a smile so real it ached. "I want to learn everything, Grandpa. Every trick. Every flight."
"And you will," he promised. "But you must train in secret. Your mother is not ready. Not yet. So this will be our hidden rope—yours and mine."
As dawn crept over the horizon, Naki touched the ropes once more. They thrummed like a heartbeat against her palms. She knew her secret path had begun.
The clown's mask might still cover her face, but in the shadows, the true acrobat had taken her first leap.