Chapter 10: The Launch

A couple of months had passed. The auditorium buzzed with excitement, the air thick with anticipation. Colorful banners emblazoned with the elegant title “The Evelyn Rose Anthology” fluttered gently from the high walls, their vibrant hues contrasting with the polished wooden stage. Students adorned in formal attire filtered into the seats, their laughter mixing with the murmurs of faculty members and community guests who had come to this special event.

Backstage, Jasmine paced, clutching her speech tightly as though it were a lifeline. The thrum of her heartbeat filled her ears—not from fear, but from the profound significance of this moment. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the swirl of emotions inside her. This was not just another school event; it was a celebration of creativity, connection, and the heartfelt stories woven together in the anthology. With each word she spoke, Jasmine honored those voices and demonstrated the power of their collective journey. Dean stood beside her, offering a quiet nod. “You’ve built something powerful,” he said. “Now let them feel it.”

As Jasmine stepped onto the stage, the room fell silent. She spoke of Evelyn Rose, of the power of voice and vulnerability, of the women whose stories filled the anthology's pages. Her words were steady, and her presence shone radiantly.

After the applause had quieted down, Jasmine looked up and saw Dean's mother, Margaret Whitmore, walking towards her with flowers in her hand and handed them to her. Jasmine's body tensed, and her stomach was in knots, but Margaret’s eyes were soft, and she had a kind smile.

“I was wrong,” she said, voice low. “About you. About what strength looks like. You’ve shown me that legacy isn’t about control—it’s about courage. I’m sorry.”

Jasmine nodded, not with forgiveness, but with grace. “Thank you for saying that.”

Dean’s father joined them, beaming. “Dean’s never been more grounded. Supporting your dream has made him stronger. You’ve made him better.”

Jasmine smiled the moment she settled into her bones. This wasn’t just a launch—it was a reckoning, a celebration, a beginning.

Two days later, Jasmine received a message from one of the anthology contributors, Mia. Mia, a quiet sophomore, had submitted a poem titled "Unspoken."

I just wanted to say thank you. Before this, I never believed my story mattered. I’ve spent years hiding parts of myself—my culture, my grief, my voice. But seeing my poem in print and hearing people talk about it changed something in me. I feel seen. I feel real. Jasmine, I can’t thank you enough for being a positive role model in my life. I will continue to write and never give up on my goal of getting more of my writing published in the future. Jasmine, I can’t wait to see what you accomplish in your future, and just know that I’m here cheering you on all the way.

Sincerely,

Mia.

Jasmine read the message twice, tears welling in her eyes. She forwarded it to Dean with a note that read, “This is why we did it.”

Later that afternoon, surrounded by the soft hum of the coffee shop, Mia gathered her courage and approached Jasmine, who was sitting in her usual spot by the window. The warmth of the sun filtered through the glass, illuminating the pages scattered before Jasmine.

“I’m applying for a writing residency,” Mia confessed, her voice slightly trembling with excitement. “I never would have dared to take this step before, but it’s because of you and your unwavering support that I finally found the strength to do it. You’ve inspired me to believe in myself.”

Jasmine hugged her. “You permitted yourself. I just held the door open.”