Chapter 260

Epilogue.

​Four years of early morning studio deadlines, terrible dining hall coffee, and endless hours spent staring at oil paints have officially led to this precise moment.

​I smooth down the fabric of my graduation gown, adjusting the golden sash draped over my shoulders as the bright sun beats down on the open courtyard of the Metropolitan Institute of Creative Arts. The afternoon air smells like fresh lawn cuttings, cheap champagne, and the sweet relief of a couple thousand students realizing they never have to write another academic research paper again.

​“If you adjust that cap one more time, I’m going to pin it to your scalp with a staple gun,” Priya warns, stepping into my field of view with two plastic cups of sparkling apple cider. She looks ridiculously good in her custom tailored suit under her gown, her hair pulled back into a tight bun.