The dean cleared his throat, allowing the noise to settle.
"Henry Jackson."
Henry rose smoothly, calm as ever.
He crossed the stage with quiet confidence, each step measured. There was no dramatic flair, no showmanship—just steady purpose. He accepted his diploma with a polite nod, the corners of his lips lifting slightly.
But his eyes searched the crowd.
And found her.
Isabella Voss.
Self-made. Self-assured. Beautiful in a way that had nothing to do with perfection and everything to do with strength. Her heartbreak had once made her wary of love, but Henry's patience—his kindness, his unwavering steadiness—had rebuilt something she thought was gone forever.
The ceremony ended the way all beautiful endings should—loud, chaotic, unforgettable.
