The festival of Accra bustled like a living heartbeat. Lanterns swayed above the crowd, drums thundered from the streets, and the great circus tent swelled with the sound of hundreds waiting to be dazzled. Tonight was one of the biggest shows of the season.
Naki sat backstage in her clown costume, her mask painted into a wide grin. But inside, her stomach twisted. Kwesi caught her eye as he adjusted his torches, giving her a firm nod—I'm with you.
Madam Efua swept through the performers, barking orders. "Ama, Kojo—keep those pins high! Drummers, faster! Kwesi, not a single mistake. Tonight, the Mensah name must shine brighter than ever."
Her gaze lingered on Naki. "And you—don't forget your place."
Naki bowed her head, the painted smile hiding the ache in her chest.
The show began with fire, light, and laughter. Kwesi's flames arced like shooting stars, the twins juggled in perfect chaos, and the drummers pounded a rhythm that made the ground quake.
When it was Naki's turn, she tumbled into the ring, pratfalling to delighted laughter. Children squealed as she juggled colorful scarves, tripped over her shoes, and squirted water from a flower pinned to her chest. The mask of the clown held steady—until disaster struck.
A trapeze rope snapped overhead.
Gasps tore through the crowd as a young acrobat from the visiting troupe lost his grip, tumbling toward the sawdust.
Without thinking, Naki hurled her props aside and sprinted forward. Her eyes darted to a dangling rope, swaying just within reach. She leapt, caught it, and swung upward with a surge of strength born from countless secret nights.
The audience froze as she launched herself midair, twisting once, twice—catching the falling boy by the wrist. Their momentum carried them dangerously close to the ground, but at the last instant, Naki swung them safely onto the platform.
Silence.
Then—thunder. The crowd erupted in a roar so loud it shook the tent. "Flying Star! Flying Star!" they cried, stamping their feet, clapping until the air itself vibrated.
Naki stood trembling, her heart soaring. For the first time, she wasn't hiding. She was seen.
But when she glanced backstage, her mother's face was pale with fury. Madam Efua's lips moved in a whisper only Naki could read: You betrayed me.
Naki's painted smile faltered. The crowd saw a hero. The world saw a prodigy. But her mother saw only rebellion.
The spotlight had been stolen—not just from the show, but from the careful cage Efua had built around her. And now, there was no going back.