New Beginnings
Saturday morning arrived warm and bright, a blissful reprieve from the recent spates of uncertain weather. The campus looked nearly festive—banners proclaiming “Congratulations, Graduates!” fluttered in the gentle breeze. Preparations for the afternoon’s graduation ceremony were already in full swing: folding chairs neatly aligned across the stadium field, faculty tables set with regalia, and ushers directing streams of anxious parents and elated families to the stands.
In her dorm room, Cruz stared at her reflection in the narrow mirror. She wore the classic purple gown with a track and field stole positioned over her shoulders, and the mortarboard perched on her dark hair. A swirl of emotions warred inside her: pride at finally finishing her degree, longing for the family she didn’t have there with her, and an undercurrent of lingering heartbreak. She remembered the email from UNOCHA—the official contract for a New York HQ position was on its way. She should be ecstatic, yet the memory of her last tense argument with Aaliyah marred her excitement.
She adjusted the cap’s tassel, muttering to herself, “Come on, Manny, it’s your graduation day. Focus on the good.” The half-dread, half-hope for who might (or might not) appear gnawed at her stomach. She’d made peace with the fact that she had no blood relatives attending. But Bobby, Tex, Randy, Tucker, and even Coach Joe would be there, cheering. Two Cups, their favorite bartender friend, might also pop up. That’s enough. I’m used to it.
Just as she smoothed the wrinkles from her gown, Bobby burst in, wearing her own purple robe with a track team patch. Her mullet was combed neatly, and she clutched a mortarboard decorated with a pun. “Manny!” she cried, stopping short at the sight of Cruz’s outfit. “Look at us, about to graduate. Are we grown-ups now?”
Cruz gave a lopsided grin. “If having a job and finishing college counts, then yeah. Guess we are.” She thought back to the swirl of job success overshadowed by personal woes. “Let’s do this.”
--
While Cruz gathered with the track team for a last-minute photo op near the dorm, Aaliyah was stepping out of her apartment, anxiety rattling her nerves. She’d spent the early morning re-checking the final course grades she’d submitted for Asif’s class. No mistakes. No reason to linger. Her TA responsibilities were over—she was no longer an instructor for Cruz or for any undergrad course. We’re free of that taboo, she told herself, though the ache of their conflict still pressed in her chest.
She wore a conservative yet stylish navy dress and carried a small tote bag. Her plan was to slip into the stands for the Political Science department’s ceremony, unannounced, to watch Cruz graduate. She thinks I’m not coming. Aaliyah wasn’t even sure if Cruz wanted her there, given their estrangement. But after reading Cruz’s text about landing the Geneva job, she couldn’t bear the thought that Cruz might walk across the stage alone. At least let me clap for her, once.
Her heart trembled as she recalled how she’d once envisioned supporting Cruz out in the open, a proud partner celebrating her lover’s big day. Instead, she was sneaking around to show subtle support, knowing Cruz would soon depart for Europe. I’ll watch from afar. Even if we’re not together, she deserves someone to cheer for her.
Striding down the sidewalk, Aaliyah half-expected to turn back, battered by her family’s incessant pressure and her own fear of being recognized by faculty. But I have to do it, she reminded herself. I won’t let her graduate with no one else in the stands—someone who truly cares.
--
By mid-afternoon, the stadium was alive with a festive chaos. Graduates robed in purple stood in clumps, name cards in hand, adjusting their tassels and hugging emotional parents. Families crowded the bleachers, craning for good seats. Ushers directed the flow with bright smiles. A dais at the front displayed the university crest, flanked by the Political Science department’s banner.
Cruz, flanked by Bobby and the track bros, took a seat in the graduate section, second row from the center. She felt a pang seeing the wave of families in the stands. Coach Joe’s upright figure was visible in a reserved faculty zone, next to a cluster from the Athletic department. Two Cups perched near the back row, holding a balloon in one hand and a silly sign in the other. At least I have them, she thought, forcing a smile as Randy cracked a joke about the dean’s slow shuffle up the steps.
Across the stadium, hidden behind a tall father and a row of siblings, Aaliyah slid into a seat near the middle bleachers, grateful for the partial camouflage. She peered down the rows of robed students, scanning for Cruz. After a moment, she spotted that unmistakable confident posture, that determined set of shoulders. Her heart clenched—Cruz looked so accomplished in her gown, the white athletics sash glinting under the bright sun. God, I’m so proud of you.
She swallowed hard, tears threatening. No matter what, I have to see this.
--
At exactly 3 p.m., a hush descended as the department chair took the microphone, welcoming graduates and families. The routine speeches followed—some from deans, some from students. Applause punctuated every heartfelt anecdote, people cheering for each mention of perseverance and triumph. A swirl of excitement rippled among the seated graduates.
Cruz listened, half-smiling at the typical cliches about bright futures and the importance of global engagement. Her mind buzzed with half-formed thoughts of UNOCHA, her friends, and the gaping hole left by Aaliyah’s absence from her life. But I need to keep it together. This was her moment, after all—she’d come so far from a broken home life to this pinnacle of academic success.
Finally, the main speaker concluded. The ceremony master stepped forward, announcing they’d now call each graduate to receive a symbolic diploma and congratulations from the Dean of Political Science. The row behind Cruz stirred, excitement building. One by one, names were read, cheers erupting from various pockets of the stands.
--
A third of the way through the list, they reached the letter “M.” Cruz tensed, double-checking the name card in her pocket. Bobby elbowed her, whispering good luck. She rose, falling in line behind a handful of fellow M-named peers. Her heart thumped with anticipation and a flicker of loneliness.
The announcer’s voice echoed over the sound system: “Cruz Manuelos, Bachelor of Arts in Political Science—concentration in International Relations.”
Cruz stepped onto the small stage, the applause swelling. She glimpsed Coach Joe’s proud nod, Tex’s enthusiastic fist-pump. An unexpected roar of cheers from the stands reverberated, and she started to smile. At least some random crowd is hyping me up.
But when she turned to accept the diploma cover from the dean, her gaze flicked across the sea of faces—and froze. Aaliyah stood in the bleachers, that navy dress unmistakable. She was on her feet, cheering loudly, even clapping above her head. Her hair caught the sunlight, eyes shining with something more than mere applause. Cruz’s breath caught, tears burning behind her lids. She came…
That brief second stretched like slow motion. Their eyes locked—Aaliyah mouth forming a silent exclamation: “Yes!” The resounding cheers from around them blurred, overshadowed by the single thread connecting them. Cruz’s heart soared. She’s here… for me.
Tearing her gaze away, she managed to maintain composure enough to shake the dean’s hand, accept the symbolic diploma, and murmur a hushed “Thank you.” She bowed slightly, the crowd’s applause swelling again. Then, stepping off the stage, she swallowed back the rush of emotion. She’s in the stands, cheering me on.
--
Once the final name was read and the faculty delivered closing remarks, the graduates rose in unison, tossing caps skyward to a roar of applause. Confetti cannons popped, filling the air with colorful scraps. People spilled out onto the field, hugging newly minted graduates, taking endless pictures. A wave of euphoria rolled across the stadium, bright under the mid-afternoon sun.
Cruz found Bobby in the chaos, who promptly tackled her in a triumphant hug. The track bros circled around, slapping high-fives. Coach Joe strolled by, murmuring a soft “Proud of you, Manuelos,” then left to greet other athletes. Two Cups ambled up with a huge grin, snapping silly photos for his bar’s social media. They posed, joked, and tried to corral the moment into a group shot.
But Cruz’s mind was fixated on one question: Where’s Aaliyah? She recalled that fleeting glimpse, that shining encouragement from the stands. Anxiety gnawed—had Aaliyah slipped away right after?
She excused herself from the group with a polite wave, weaving through milling families, scanning faces for navy and dark hair. The swirl of post-ceremony commotion made it tricky. But then, near an exit gate, she spotted her: Aaliyah stood at the periphery, hugging her tote bag, eyes searching the crowd. She came. She stayed.
--
Heart pounding, Cruz quickened her pace, ignoring the stares of random bystanders. She came to a halt mere feet from Aaliyah. The air crackled with tension—they hadn’t properly spoken since that blow-up. But one look at the admiration and relief in Aaliyah’s gaze crumbled Cruz’s lingering walls.
Without a word, she closed the distance, dropping her mortarboard, sweeping Aaliyah into her arms. She heard a muffled gasp of surprise before she pressed her lips fiercely to Aaliyah’s. God, I missed you. The hush around them seemed to vanish, replaced by the rush of adrenaline and longing. A wave of stunned silence from onlookers quickly turned into a smattering of cheers or gasps from passing grads. But Cruz didn’t care.
Aaliyah froze for a split heartbeat, then melted into the kiss, arms sliding around Cruz’s waist. The affection, repressed for weeks, burst free. She responded just as fiercely, tears pricking her eyes at the raw sensation of being held again. You’re not leaving me just yet.
They broke apart after an indeterminate moment, breathless. A hush tension lingered in that space, eyes locked. Cruz’s chest felt on fire, tears edging her smile. “You… came,” she murmured, voice shaking.
Aaliyah nodded, swallowing emotion. “I’m so proud of you, Cruz. I had to see you walk.”
--
In the swirl of noise, Bobby and the track bros finally spotted them. Bobby raised her eyebrows, an amused grin on her face, but let them have their moment. Cruz gently combed a strand of Aaliyah’s hair from her cheek. “I—I’m so glad you’re here. Listen, we’re about to go celebrate at a bar. You’re… invited if you want. I’d love for you to come.” Her eyes shone with renewed hope. Stay with me, at least tonight.
Aaliyah hesitated only a second, the memory of heartbreak overshadowed by the warmth in Cruz’s expression. “Sure,” she whispered, voice still trembling. “I’d love to celebrate with you.”
A wave of relief uncoiled in Cruz’s gut. She stepped aside, beckoning Aaliyah to join the group. They moved back into the throng, meeting the track team’s wide-eyed stares. Randy let out a low whistle, Tucker shot Cruz a knowing smirk, and Bobby slapped Cruz on the shoulder. “I see Ms. TA is here,” she teased. “Guess I owe Tex a bet?”
Aaliyah colored lightly but offered a polite smile. “I’m just… supporting Cruz.” Her voice was steady, pride shining beneath.
Bobby raised her arms theatrically. “Then let’s get out of this stadium, y’all. Time for real partying!”
--
Within an hour, the group found themselves at a lively downtown bar that had become their go-to post-track meet haunt. Two Cups was absent—he had his own bar to tend—but they snagged a large booth in the corner, laughing as they tried to cram in. The bartender recognized them from past nights and set up a round of celebratory shots, discounting for newly minted grads.
Cruz slid in, with Aaliyah settling at her side. The others teased or pretended not to notice how close they sat, but everyone accepted Aaliyah’s presence in good humor. A swirl of conversation followed—Randy talked about an internship at a sports marketing firm, Tucker joked about moving to California for grad school, and Bobby teased Cruz about her big United Nations job.
At one point, Bobby stood up, clinking a fork against a glass. “A quick toast to Manny, who not only survived finals but landed a dream gig with the UN or something!” She shot Cruz a wink. “We’re super proud of you, Manny. Enjoy your last dorm night, because soon you’ll face that dreaded Manhattan real estate fiasco.”
Cruz laughed, cheeks warming, lifting her glass. “Thanks, Bob.” She felt a sting of guilt for letting them think she might move out of the country. But the short contract spelled an end to her dorm privileges, so she still needed to find a place.
--
Across the booth, Aaliyah’s head snapped up at Bobby’s mention of “Manhattan real estate.” Confusion creased her brow. “Wait, what do you mean? Isn’t Cruz moving to Switzerland in a few weeks? Why would she need a place in Manhattan?” Her voice carried a thread of heartbreak.
The entire table quieted. Cruz froze, realizing the bombshell she’d neglected to drop. She swallowed, eyes flicking to the track bros, who now seemed equally curious. Time to come clean.
She cleared her throat, looking at Aaliyah. “I—I’m not going to Switzerland. That position was filled. They offered me a spot at UNOCHA’s New York HQ instead.” She gave a sheepish shrug. “I guess I never clarified in my text. I just said I got the job.”
Aaliyah’s eyes went wide, tears threatening. Her lips parted in shock. “New York?” she whispered, scanning Cruz’s face. “You’re staying here?”
Cruz nodded, chest tight. “Yes. The same city. Same… place. I’m not leaving. I’m sorry you didn’t know.”
A shaky laugh of joy escaped Aaliyah, tears spilling. “God, I was so sure you’d be an ocean away. That’s why—” She broke off, cheeks flushing as relief flooded her. “Oh my God, I can’t believe it.”
Bobby let out a whoop, the track bros pounding the table in raucous glee at the comedic twist. “Manuelos, you were letting us all think you’d vanish to Europe!” Tucker accused, laughing. Tex shook his head in mock disappointment. “Just like Manny to keep secrets.”
Cruz raised her hands apologetically. “I was too overwhelmed at first. Then everything with finals and… everything else. It slipped.”
Aaliyah exhaled a shaky breath, a tremulous smile blooming. She wiped her damp cheeks. “I’m so happy for you, Cruz.” Her eyes shone with renewed hope. She’s not leaving me.
--
The bar’s excitement swelled once more, everyone toasting Cruz’s local job success. But amid the jokes and the bustle, Aaliyah leaned over, murmuring in Cruz’s ear, “Do you want to… step out for a bit? I’d like to talk alone.”
Cruz caught the earnest look in Aaliyah’s gaze, the softness that hinted at deeper conversation. She nodded instantly, turning to Bobby. “We’ll be back.” Bobby gave her a conspiratorial grin, suspecting they needed to settle personal matters.
They slipped out into the cool evening air, leaving the group behind. Streetlights glowed along the sidewalk, and a light breeze carried the distant hum of traffic. It felt peaceful compared to the bar’s noisy interior. Aaliyah’s hand grazed Cruz’s, and they exchanged cautious smiles.
--
They walked in silence for a few blocks, arms brushing occasionally. Finally, near a quiet city park, Aaliyah paused by a low iron fence. “I can’t believe you’re staying,” she said, voice still shaky with emotion. “All this time, I thought you’d move to Geneva any day now.”
Cruz sighed, leaning against the fence. “I’m sorry I let that misunderstanding linger. I genuinely forgot you didn’t know.” She hesitated, meeting Aaliyah’s gaze. “But I also thought you’d decided we… didn’t have a future. Because of your family, and your fears, and everything.”
Aaliyah swallowed hard, memories of their argument flashing. “I was terrified—still am—about how to break it to my parents, to the community, that I’m with a woman, and a former student at that. But I also can’t stand losing you.” She squeezed her eyes shut, tears threatening. “I tried to push you away, thinking if you left for Geneva, it’d be a clean break. But that just felt… miserable.”
Cruz’s chest tightened. She reached out, gently clasping Aaliyah’s hand. “You don’t have to push me away. I’m here. And… as of two days ago, I’m not your student, not under your TA role. There’s no ethical concerns academically. It’s just you, me, and real life.”
Aaliyah inhaled, relief mingling with leftover anxiety. “And your job means you won’t vanish.” She paused, guilt flickering in her eyes. “But my family— they’ll still disapprove. Father threatened to cut off my support if I don’t comply with his arranged marriage ideals.”
Cruz nodded, pressing Aaliyah’s hand to her heart. “That’s huge. I won’t pretend I have an easy fix. But we can figure it out together, if you want. I can’t promise it’ll be smooth, but… I promise I’ll stand by you.”
Aaliyah’s lips quivered, emotion overwhelming her. “I do want that. I want… us. Even if it’s complicated. I’m tired of letting fear rule me.”
--
Wordless, Cruz stepped closer, arms encircling Aaliyah’s waist. The streetlights cast a gentle glow on them, the distant noise of the city fading to a hush. Aaliyah let her forehead rest on Cruz’s shoulder, tears slipping free. “I missed you so much,” she whispered.
Cruz’s voice cracked with shared emotion. “Me too. Every single day since that fight.” She leaned back to meet Aaliyah’s gaze, softly brushing away tears. “So… we try again? For real this time. No secrecy, no running. We’ll handle your family step by step, handle my new job, everything.”
Aaliyah nodded slowly, a soft laugh escaping through her tears. “Yes. Let’s do that.” Her eyes flickered with a new resolve. We’re free to choose each other.
Cruz smiled, a radiant expression lighting her face. She dipped her head, pressing a tender kiss to Aaliyah’s lips—a far cry from the desperate passion of earlier months, but just as meaningful. A warmth curled in both their chests, a sense of unity they’d lost but now reclaimed.
They parted gently, each searching the other’s eyes. Aaliyah exhaled a shaky laugh. “I guess… we should head back to the bar before they suspect something scandalous.”
Cruz smirked. “Yes, let’s not keep them waiting.” Her hand found Aaliyah’s, fingers interlocking. “But this time, I’m not letting go.”
--
Walking back, they strolled side by side, sometimes brushing shoulders, sometimes exchanging quiet smiles. The tension that once clung to them had eased, replaced by cautious optimism. They had real challenges—Aaliyah’s family pressure was no small matter. But the looming taboo of a TA-student relationship was gone, and Cruz’s future no longer required leaving the city.
Back at the bar, they rejoined the group’s raucous celebration. Bobby shot them a knowing grin but refrained from teasing. Tex and Tucker, half-drunk, clapped Cruz on the back, hollering about her bright future as a “UN star.” Aaliyah joined in the laughter, letting herself relax into their joyful vibe. This is how it should be—supportive friends, open camaraderie.
Eventually, the night wound down, the group dispersing with farewell hugs and promises to meet again after tomorrow’s formal graduation day wrap-up events. Cruz and Aaliyah stepped outside together, the hush of the late hour embracing them. A hush sense of hope simmered in their hearts. No more secrets, no more forced separations. They’d figure out the details, but tonight they savored the small victory: they’d found each other again.
Walking down the dim city street, hand in hand, they shared soft conversation about potential apartments for Cruz, about Aaliyah’s dissertation progress. When Cruz asked about Aaliyah’s father, Aaliyah sighed but nodded, “We’ll face that together. One step at a time.”
At the next crosswalk, they paused. Cruz lowered her voice, “Thank you for coming to my ceremony. I… it meant the world to me to see you there.”
Aaliyah’s eyes shone, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Cruz’s cheek. “I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”
Their shared smile under the streetlight promised a new chapter—a real shot at happiness, free from the shackles that had once held them apart.