Chapter 6: Caps, Gowns, and Goodbyes
863 Words
Lia’s POV
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They said graduation would be one of the most memorable days of our lives.
I never believed that.
Not until today.
I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the white collar over my maroon toga. It still didn’t feel real. The fabric was itchy, the cap kept slipping, and the shoes were just a little too tight — but none of it mattered.
I was graduating.
And not just me — Antonette too.
My best friend. My chaos. My constant.
We both made it.
From the orphanage hallways to the classrooms filled with noise and nerves, we made it through every quiz, every sleepless night, every petty fight and shared snack. And now, we were here — our names printed on a program, waiting to be called.
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The sun was too bright when we stepped outside.
The nuns were already at the school. A few of the other girls from the orphanage were rushing around, giggling, helping each other with makeup and missing pins. Antonette came running toward me, holding her cap.
“Fix this for me,” she panted. “I swear it has a personal vendetta against my head.”
I laughed, gently adjusting it on her messy curls. “Maybe your head just needs to calm down.”
“Oh please, I’m the calmest girl here.”
We both laughed — the kind that almost hurts your chest because it’s full of too many feelings. Joy. Nervousness. A bit of sadness too.
“Can you believe we’re done?” she whispered, more serious now.
“No,” I admitted. “I used to think I wouldn’t even finish first year.”
She looked at me, her eyes shining.
“But you did. We did.”
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The ceremony went by in a blur — names, clapping, speeches. I only half-heard mine being called until Antonette nudged me so hard I nearly tripped on my way to the stage.
But the real moment didn’t happen there.
It happened later, when we were walking back to the orphanage, our gowns bundled in our arms, our heels in our hands, and our feet aching from all the walking.
The sun was already beginning to set. Everything was bathed in that golden light that makes the world feel like a painting.
Antonette suddenly stopped walking.
“You know,” she said quietly, “if you told the old Lia that she’d be graduating today, with a best friend by her side, with dreams and plans and… joy — do you think she would’ve believed you?”
I didn’t answer right away.
Instead, I thought of the little girl I once was — quiet, scared, always watching doors in case someone came back for her.
That girl had no one.
This girl had Antonette.
“No,” I said finally. “She wouldn’t have believed it.”
“Yeah…” Antonette smiled softly. “Me neither.”
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Back at the orphanage, the Sisters had prepared a small celebration. Nothing fancy — just homemade spaghetti, soda, and a banana cake with “Congratulations!” written in shaky icing.
But to me, it felt like a royal banquet.
Later that night, we gathered in the chapel where the nuns always gave quiet talks about life and faith. Sister Lucia spoke softly, her hands gently folded as she looked at all of us graduates.
“I know many of you are thinking about finding work immediately,” she said, glancing at me and Antonette. “And I understand that. Life outside the orphanage can be difficult, and you're eager to be independent. But please… finish college first. Education is the door to a future where you don’t have to struggle the way your parents did. You deserve more than survival — you deserve a life.”
I lowered my gaze. That was exactly what I’d been thinking about: working right away, helping with the bills here, proving I was strong. But now, Sister Lucia’s words echoed in my chest.
We didn’t make it this far just to give up early.
Antonette nudged my shoulder gently. “You hear that?” she whispered. “They believe in us.”
I smiled. “Then I guess we should believe in ourselves too.”
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After the others had gone to bed, Antonette and I snuck up to the roof, the place where we always went when the world felt too big or too small.
“What now?” she asked, staring at the stars.
“I guess... college. I mean, I still want to open my café someday. But first, I’ll finish school. Properly. For me. For them.”
Antonette nodded. “Same here. I wanna study marketing. Maybe we’ll work together someday.”
“Café Dahliana, run by two orphan girls who didn’t quit.” I said with a soft laugh.
“With the best banana cake on the side,” she added.
We laughed. Then we fell silent.
Not because we didn’t know what to say — but because we finally understood the moment we were in.
This wasn’t the end.
It was the start of everything.
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End of Chapter 6
- Writer
