The auditorium was empty now.
Streamers clung to the ceiling, and golden confetti shimmered faintly across the floor where hundreds had cheered just hours ago. The grand banner "Congratulations, Graduates of Northvale Academy!" still hung over the stage, gently swaying in the late afternoon breeze.
Faye sat at the edge of the stage steps, heels off, her graduation cap beside her. Her medal caught the dying sunlight—2nd Place, though somehow, it no longer stung. The applause had faded, the weight of expectations too. For the first time in years, the silence felt peaceful.
"Didn't think I'd find the great Samantha Faye Lopez sitting alone," a familiar voice teased.
She turned to see Jason Blake walking down the aisle, gown unbuttoned, his medal glinting—Valedictorian. The grin on his face was softer than usual, tired but genuine.
"Even the best need a break sometimes," she replied, voice calm but teasing.
He sat beside her, stretching his legs, their shoulders almost brushing. "So… heard the news. Cambridge sent their congratulations."
Her lips curved into a small, knowing smile.
He nodded, pride flickering behind his easy grin. "Looks like we're both going."
Faye turned to face him fully this time. "Guess fate's really not tired of putting us together."
Jason chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, but this time, maybe we try being partners… not rivals?"
Faye pretended to think, tilting her head slightly. "We'll see. As long as you don't slack off."
He laughed, and for a moment, it felt like everything—the sleepless nights, the pressure, the pain—had been leading here: two once-broken prodigies, finally free enough to just be.
The auditorium doors swung open. Mira's voice rang out, bright and dramatic as ever.
"There you two are! Clint's trying to get everyone together for one last photo before the light disappears!"
They both looked up as Mira waved from the doorway, her hair catching the gold of the setting sun. Clint stood beside her, camera in hand, grinning wide.
Jason stood and offered his hand. "Come on, Lopez. Our fans await."
Faye laughed softly, slipping her hand into his. "You mean our friends, Blake."
As they walked out together, the sun spilled through the doors, bathing them in a soft orange glow. Mira was chattering about her fashion portfolio, Clint about his business internship, and Jason—always Jason—made a joke that made them all laugh until they couldn't breathe.
Faye looked at them—her friends.
Then at Jason—her rival, her mirror, her constant.
Once, she believed being the best meant being alone.
Now, she knew better.
The future stretched wide before them—Cambridge, dreams, and a life beyond rankings and medals.
She squeezed Jason's hand lightly, just once. "Let's make it count," she said.
He smiled, eyes bright. "We already are."