The rehearsal room buzzed with tension as students prepared for the Talent Showcase. Angel's group had just wrapped up their first full practice. It wasn't perfect, but it had energy—raw and honest. Jordan's voice was strong, Kelly V's choreography sharp, and Mimi's spoken word fierce. Angel, who had once danced and sung beside her late brother Andrew, had stepped onto the stage again, her movements tight with emotion but radiant.
When it ended, there was a silence. Not awkward. Reverent.
Jordan nodded at her. "You okay?"
Angel shrugged, sipping from her water bottle. "I didn't break."
Kelly V clapped lightly. "You didn't just not break. You lit the stage."
Mimi smiled, then turned as Victor's group entered. Victor walked like the floor owed him. Hannah trailed behind, eyes fixed on him, giddy just being in the same group.
Victor's smirk faded when he saw Angel chatting easily with Jordan. He wasn't used to not being the center of attention.
"Must be nice," he muttered to Hannah. "All that shine and she doesn't even try."
"She tries," Hannah said quietly, glancing at Angel. "You just don't see it."
Victor raised a brow. "You sound like you know something."
Hannah gave him a small smile. "Maybe I do."
Later that evening, the Dewson house was dim and quiet. Angel stood in the kitchen, frowning at her phone. A cooking video was playing, showing how to make simple pancakes.
"Flour… baking powder… why is this so confusing?" she muttered.
The kitchen still held shadows of her mother—post-it notes in the cabinet, her spice jars labeled in careful handwriting. Angel had never needed to cook. Her mom had always handled meals. Until she didn't.
Just then, the front door opened.
Captain Dewson stepped in, weary but upright. His uniform was crisp, his expression unreadable.
"Hey," Angel called. "You hungry?"
He paused, surprised. "You cooked?"
She tilted her head. "Trying. I found a pancake tutorial. Might poison you."
He chuckled softly. "If it's from you, I'll risk it."
They stood together in the kitchen. Angel flipped a lumpy pancake, groaning.
"You're pressing it too much," he said, stepping closer. "Let it rise on its own. Like a soldier under pressure—give it room."
Angel glanced at him. "You use war analogies for everything?"
He gave a sad smile. "Not everything. Just the things I care about."
There was a silence. Then she asked quietly, "Do you miss her? And Andrew?"
Captain Dewson's face shifted. For a moment, the mask dropped. His eyes were tired, his jaw clenched.
"Every second," he said. "But I wake up for you."
Angel looked away. Her chest felt tight.
"I didn't learn how to make anything," she whispered. "I should've paid more attention when she cooked."
"She never wanted you to worry about that," he replied. "She wanted you to shine."
They ate the misshapen pancakes together at the counter. Angel didn't say much, but her father didn't need her to.
Later that night, in the silence of his study, Captain Dewson sat alone. The desk lamp cast a small circle of light. He opened the drawer and took out a photo—his wife, smiling, holding baby Andrew, Angel leaning in with a shy grin.
He ran a hand over his face. In the field, he was a lion. At home, a ghost.
But when Angel called from her room, "Goodnight, Adadi," he straightened his back and replied firmly, "Goodnight, Angel."
At school, the showcase pressure mounted. Each group now understood: this wasn't just fun. It counted toward their academic scores. A performance grade. An artistic expression test.
Victor had begun taking things more seriously. Even Hannah noticed how he started showing up on time and offering actual input. Not just flirting and posing.
Still, Victor was used to attention, not challenge. And Jordan? Jordan was a challenge. Victor could hear students whispering:
"Jordan's group is killing it."
"Angel and Jordan? Dynamic duo."
He didn't like the taste of envy. But it was there.
Meanwhile, in the background, small dramas unfolded.
Finn kept her secret about Angel's past tucked away, biding her time.
Mimi slowly started warming up to Kelly V, despite their past. Their group chemistry was growing.
And Angel… Angel was starting to live again. The dancing, the singing—it hurt. But it healed too.
Behind her calm confidence, grief still lingered. But with every step she took on stage, she was claiming her voice back.
And in the quiet house on the edge of town, Captain Okoro watched her rehearse in the living room one night, thinking:
"She's stronger than I ever taught her to be."