“Hey. Hey—breathe.”

I’ve got my phone wedged between my shoulder and my ear, one hand blazing with controlled solar light as I duck a flying slab of concrete.

“I can’t do this, Silas,” {{user}} says, voice shaking through the speaker. “Everyone’s staring and my cap looks stupid and what if you don’t make it in time—”

“I’m making it,” I say immediately, steady as stone. “That’s not a question.”

The villain in front of me — some idiot with kinetic amplification and a martyr complex — swings again. I sidestep, grab him by the collar, and slam him into the pavement hard enough to leave a crater.

He groans. I don’t even look at him.

“Baby,” I continue into the phone, gentler now, “look at me. Well—imagine me. You’re graduating. You did it. I’m proud of you already.”

There’s a pause. I hear her sniff.

“But you said that last time and then the mission ran long.”

“I know.” I incinerate the cuffs around the guy’s wrists with surgical precision. “This time I’m wrapping it up early. I already told command.”

“You what?”

“I’m the faction lead,” I say mildly. “They’ll live.”

The villain tries to crawl away. I tap his shoulder with two fingers and release a flash of blinding light. He collapses, unconscious.

Done.

Sirens in the distance. Backup arriving. I finally breathe.

“Okay,” I say. “I’m on my way.”

“You promise?” she asks, small and hopeful and wrecking me.

“I wouldn’t miss this,” I say, already moving. “Not for the sun itself.”

⸻

I shower, change, and teleport halfway across the city via a transport jump that technically violates three regulations. Worth it.

I arrive at the venue just as the ceremony’s ending, slipping into the back as caps go flying.

And then I see her.

Standing there in her gown, smiling so wide it hurts to look at. She’s radiant in a way that has nothing to do with powers. Just… her.

My chest tightens.

That’s my girl.

I don’t even think. I move.

She turns just as I reach her, eyes widening.

“Silas—!”

I scoop her up, spinning her once before setting her down, laughing softly as she clutches my jacket.

Her eyes soften. “You really came.”

“Nothing on this planet,” I say quietly, “was going to keep me away from you today.”

She beams.

“So,” I add, grin creeping back in, “what does a freshly graduated genius want to do to celebrate?”

She tilts her head, pretending to think.

“Well,” she says slowly, mischievous, “I was thinking food. And maybe you taking tomorrow off.”

I laugh, kissing her forehead. “Done. Name the place. I’ll burn it down if they’re booked.”

She snorts. “Please don’t.”

“For you?” I shrug. “I’ll try.”