Chapter 36— Lyra's Debut
Lyra's POV
The day finally arrives, and Lumera glows with a quiet golden light. I stare at myself in the mirror, the soft sapphire gown hugging me just right, the pearls in my hair glinting under the sunlight. My mom fusses around, adding final touches — tucking stray hair, brushing powder across my cheeks — and I catch a rare, tender smile in her eyes.
"You're beautiful, Lyra," she says softly. "Eighteen, my little star. Today is yours."
My chest tightens, a mix of nerves and excitement. Eighteen. The age of dreams, of possibilities, of finally stepping into the world I've been cautiously tiptoeing around for years.
The hall is decorated beautifully — parols hang delicately from the ceiling, colorful banderitas flutter across the walls, and a long table gleams with food: lechon, lumpia, pancit, halo-halo for dessert. Filipino traditions my mom loves are woven into every detail, from the ceremonial debut march to the 18 candles and 18 roses. I feel a warm pride — my heritage is part of me, and tonight it shines.
The group is already here, dressed sharply, each of them grinning. Evan is wearing a tailored suit that somehow makes him look effortlessly elegant. He leans toward me and whispers softly, "You look… perfect."
I flush, my heart fluttering. "Thanks," I murmur, adjusting my dress.
The first part of the evening begins with the 18 roses, a Filipino tradition where the debutante dances with 18 people who represent love, friendship, and guidance. Evan waits patiently for his turn. When he steps forward, he bows slightly and offers his hand.
"You first, Sol?" he murmurs, soft and teasing.
I smile faintly, placing my hand in his. The dance is slow, elegant, and for a moment, the world narrows to just him and me. His hand on my waist, his gentle guidance, the warmth of his presence — it's a steady comfort I didn't know I could let myself feel again.
"You've grown so much," he whispers during a brief pause, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. My heart tightens, a mix of happiness and vulnerability. "I'm glad I get to be part of this moment."
I nod, words failing me, but the warmth in my chest says enough.
Next is the 18 candles ceremony, where I light 18 candles for the people who shaped me. One by one, I whisper a short dedication — my mom, my grandparents, my friends — ending with Evan.
For him, I pause longer, the flame trembling slightly in my hand. "For Evan," I murmur, voice soft. "For patience, for laughter, for reminding me how to trust again."
He smiles, quietly, eyes glimmering, and reaches out to squeeze my hand. The warmth is grounding, like a silent promise.
Dinner is lively, with everyone enjoying the traditional Filipino dishes. Soraya and Saphira are teasingly arguing over who gets the last piece of lechon, Cassian is trying to quietly sneak some desserts, and Aveline is taking endless photos to capture every angle. I sit beside Evan, sharing a small bowl of halo-halo, and our knees brush under the table.
"You've been through so much this year," he says softly, eyes gentle. "And look at you now — shining."
I swallow, heart fluttering. "I'm… finally feeling like maybe I deserve to shine."
He smiles faintly, brushing his thumb across the back of my hand, deliberate, patient, unpressured. "You do, Sol. You really do."
The night winds on with music, laughter, and dancing. Filipino dances, slow waltzes, and some more playful numbers with the group joining in. I notice Evan occasionally guiding me through steps, his hand lingering for just a second too long, but always respectfully. The group laughs, teasing, but I feel a bubble of warmth — this is home, this is safe, this is joy.
Later, outside under the stars, the group gathers for one final playful game — a variation of truth or dare, laughter echoing against the night. Evan whispers, "Just a small dare?" His fingers brush mine briefly. I nod, letting myself enjoy it.
The night ends with photos, hugs, and warm goodbyes. My heart feels full — not perfect, not healed completely, but alive. Forgiveness has settled in; trust is growing. And the final item on the senior list — the cruise — looms ahead like a promise of even more memories.
As we leave the hall, I glance at Evan, hand brushing against mine, and smile. "Thank you… for everything."
He squeezes gently, leaning close, voice soft. "No, thank you, Sol. For letting me be here."
For the first time in months, I feel like life is unfolding in the right way. Eighteen is only the beginning — and with friends, family, and Evan beside me, I'm ready.