The university auditorium hall was dazzling under the glow of rainbow-colored lights, as the convocation grounds were a sea of colors, gowns flapping in the wind. Long silky ribbons flowed from the ceiling, shimmering in turns as the disco lights beamed across the wide room. Plastic chairs draped in sheer white cloth were arranged in pairs, each pair facing one another with a small round table in between.
On each table lay fresh flowers in glass vases, glinting in the rotating light. Star loves how the light takes their turn to shine and bubble, but tonight she was moody.
Star sat alone, her blue graduation gown slightly oversized on her slender frame. The room was filled with laughter, pockets of students gathered in groups, taking photos, exchanging hugs, dancing to the pulsing hip-hop rhythm spilling from the DJ's booth at the far end of the stage. But Star was still quiet. Her thoughts were louder than the music.
She had once dreamed of this night. Since her first day as a fresher, she had pictured it again and again: the convocation ceremony, the pride in her heart, the applause, the recognition of all she had suffered to earn this moment. She had burnt candles through the night, read until her eyes ached, chosen principle over popularity, truth over ease, and now, on this night of supposed glory, she felt nothing but grief and injustice.
At the left-hand side of the stage are the Vice Chancellor, the senior Lecturers, and the Professors sitting as they watch the students dancing.
Her gaze drifted toward the center stage, where a long plastic table displayed neatly stacked certificates and five glittering silver awards, a tradition the school upheld each year: five students with the highest CGPA would be selected to receive a full scholarship to Cambridge University for their Master's. Star swallowed hard. Those awards had been her aim, her hope. But the dream had been hijacked.
She looked down, barely registering her own hands trembling. Around her, girls in flawless makeup posed for selfies. Boys in suits cracked jokes. Laughter, joy, celebration. But within her, silence.
Then, as if summoned by her very despair, a group of girls strode toward her, led by none other than Purple.
Purple: the campus queen, the rich girl with a matching loud voice, dyed purple hair, and an entourage that walked like fashion models. Her heels clicked against the floor as she stopped before Star's table and casually dropped her designer handbag with a theatrical sigh.
Star blinked. Not tonight, she prayed silently. She didn't have the strength for Purple's games and mockery.
"Hello, sister Purple," she said, forcing a smile.
"Hello, Star," Purple replied, one hand on her waist, tilting her head like a peacock. Her girls flanked her, some chewing gum, others giving Star silent glares.
"You're not looking bad. Your makeup is nice," Star added politely, trying to ease the tension.
Purple smirked.
"Yeah, I know. I never take last. Always on top, sweetie."
"Congratulations once again," Star said, her voice almost a whisper.
"Thanks, darling. I've never been this excited. Cambridge, here I come! Who even cares about books? It's about new friends, white parties, and a whole new life," Purple gushed, twirling her hair.
Her girls giggled. One of them, Semi, added with a smirk, "You know that's Black & White by Juice WRLD of blessed memory. She probably knows it. Bookworm Star."
"Yeah," Purple sneered. "I'm proud to have a sister who eats library books, but too bad I'm taking her spot. Life is full of sacrifices, you know? Hope you're happy for me."
More mocking laughter followed. Star sat motionless, each word another stab to the gut. As if that wasn't enough, others began to crowd around Purple to congratulate her, the supposed Cambridge nominee. The noise grew. Students chanted,
"London in a bit!" while Purple posed like a celebrity. Cameras flashed. Cheers erupted as people left their seats and walked to her to congratulate her, although it's still unbelievable to them. Star was quite all along and just watching the scene.
She was no longer comfortable, as she felt the room closing in. Her breath quickened. Her heart pounded in her ears. And then the tears came, hot and fast. She stood abruptly and rushed out of the hall into the cool night.
Inside, the music stopped. The M.C. took the microphone.
"Great Nigerian Students!" he called out.
"GREAT!" the crowd thundered back.
"Let us rise for the opening prayer," he continued.
The Dean came up and prayed passionately. Afterward, the national, state, and school anthems were sung, and everyone returned to their seats as the Vice Chancellor stood to speak.
He wore a calm but authoritative expression as he addressed the audience.
"This journey began four, five years ago. It has been tough, the lectures, the projects, the sleepless nights. Some dropped out, some sadly died, but you, you made it. Be proud."
He paused to look over the hall, then added,
"As is our tradition, we award scholarships to the five best students. They've worked hard, they earned it. This is merit. This is justice."
Star had just slipped quietly back into the hall and was sitting at the far end when she heard the names being called.
"Okpara Chisom, Faculty of Engineering."
Thunderous applause erupted. The towering albino student strolled up with a confident smile. They called him "Young Engineer." Star watched him and felt a strange blend of admiration and ache.
Three more students were called. Then came the moment that changed everything.
"Melvin Star…..Faculty of Education."
For a moment, silence.
Star froze. Surely she was imagining it. But the Vice Chancellor repeated it: "Melvin Star, please come forward quickly."
The crowd parted. Faces turned. All eyes landed on her. Hands trembling, with feet unsteady, as she walked toward the stage, stunned. Applause grew. Some people gasped. Miguel stood in the crowd, quietly watching.
Star reached the Vice Chancellor, who handed her the award with a warm smile.
The cheers filled the room, except for one person. Miguel with his friends were laughing, and many more students were laughing at the London Purple queen.
Purple fainted. Her girls screamed, trying to wake her. The chaos spread. Whispers erupted everywhere. How? Why?
But Miguel knew. Days ago, after learning the truth about the forged records and the corrupt scheme orchestrated by Purple and his father, he had taken action. He contacted his father, who brought the State Minister of Education to the school. They presented evidence. The Vice Chancellor ordered a full review, and Purple's grades were found to be falsified. Her scholarship revoked. The corrupt admin lecturer responsible was fired.
Star, who truly earned the award, was reinstated.
The hall quieted once more as Miguel stepped forward. Star turned, confused. Then, before everyone, he knelt on one knee, holding out a gold ring.
"Star, please forgive me. Be mine forever."
"Miguel…" she whispered, stunned.
"Please, marry me," he said again, his voice trembling.
The crowd erupted in cheers.
"Yes," Star said, breathlessly, as tears fell again, not of pain, but of joy.
He slid the ring on her finger. They embraced.
"We'll go to London together," he whispered, hand resting gently on her stomach.
"You'll study. I'll manage my father's business. And I'll love you, and our baby, with everything I have."
Tears welled in both their eyes, but neither wiped them. They let them fall freely, tears of love, of gratitude, of a bond that time and distance could never break.
The Vice Chancellor made to dismiss the couple, so they could go ahead with the ceremony, as he still needed to hand out the students their certificate. Just then, a faint thud was heard.
Purple had fainted again. And this time, no one rushed to help her.