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Harrington University had never been a quiet place—but today it felt intentional. The prestigious university was an architectural masterpiece, blending French Renaissance elegance with hints of medieval charm and modern design. The campus grounds looked like something pulled from a fairy tale, immaculately maintained and breathtaking in every way.
Vibrant colors and fragrant scents from the sprawling gardens brought the place to life. Few universities could boast their own greenhouses for fresh produce or a serene lake meant for quiet reflection. Harrington was truly remarkable—one that anyone would be proud to call their alma mater.
Two women strolled across the grounds. One, appearing to be in her late forties or early fifties, dressed with quiet authority, moved with the ease of someone who knew this place well. Her smile suggested she was truly taking it in—not as a visitor, but as someone returning home.
The other woman, younger and of Filipino descent, was also dressed to impress. Her outfit reflected both cultural pride and professionalism. Her posture betrayed a mix of awe and nerves as she walked beside the woman she clearly admired. “As you can see, Ms. Go, we’ve done our best to keep the grounds beautiful and thriving,” the younger woman said, fidgeting with her hands. “We even kept your tradition of planting trees at the start of every academic year—to symbolize growth.”
Ms. Go wore sleek, tailored slacks and a scuffed leather jacket over a fitted emerald blouse. She carried the air of someone hard to impress—yet clearly impressed. “I’ve told you before, Hiraya,” she said dryly. “Call me Thea. I’m not calling you Ms. Reyes or Dean Reyes, so please drop the formalities.”
She glanced around the grounds, approving. “And flattery won’t help you. I’m already proud that one of my former students earned my old job.”
“Yes—Dean Go—I mean, Thea!” Hiraya corrected quickly, flushing. They continued walking as Hiraya explained what had changed after Thea had stepped away. “We still make a point to show that Harrington isn’t stuck in the past. Parents expect dusty halls and leather chairs, but here?” She smiled. “We just grew teeth.”
Thea smirked. “Good. Universities should.”
Hiraya laughed. She was younger than Thea had been when she first took the position. Back then, she’d studied sociology under Thea’s watchful eye. Now she was only the second woman to ever serve as Harrington’s dean. She was the kind of administrator students trusted. The kind who knew names, listened, and pushed back when donors overstepped.
“I won’t lie,” Hiraya admitted, glancing around as students passed. “Taking over after you was intimidating. Your shadow’s long.”
Thea waved it off. “I left you good bones. You made it breathe again.”
They entered the Hall of Applied Sciences—once Thea’s most controversial expansion. Sunlight poured through high windows. Student projects lined the walls: sustainable city models, outreach programs, and lesson plans designed for underserved schools.
Thea slowed. “You kept the education wing,” she said.
Hiraya smiled, a faint blush rising. “Expanded it. Your daughter’s department helped design the curriculum.”
That landed deeper than Thea expected. They reached the auditorium doors, applause leaking through the walls. Hiraya paused. “Front row. Center. Faculty insisted. Alumni too. You’re still their favorite dean.”
Thea exhaled slowly. “I didn’t come for recognition.”
“I know,” Hiraya said gently. “You came for her.”
Inside, the space was warm and modern—tiered seating, soft lighting, banners celebrating not just achievement, but impact. Thea took her seat and scanned the crowd without thinking. Four empty chairs. She didn’t linger. The ceremony moved briskly. Names. Degrees. Futures unfolding.
Then—“Shego Go—valedictorian, College of Education.”
Thea straightened. Shego walked with purpose. No nerves. No hesitation. Her cap tilted just slightly wrong. The same stubborn confidence she’d had at ten years old, refusing to quit martial arts even after breaking her wrist.
When Shego accepted the scroll, she turned, and their eyes met. Years compressed into a single beat as the words passed silently between them.
"You saw me."
"Always."
Thea stood and clapped—clear, steady, unapologetically proud. Let them see. Afterward, amid the hum of celebration, Shego found her.
“You’re smiling,” Shego said. “That’s rare.”
“I’m allowed,” Thea replied. “Former deans get privileges.”
Shego glanced around, then back at her. “They didn’t come.”
“I know.”
A pause. “I didn’t do this to prove anything,” Shego said quietly. “I just… didn’t want what you gave up to mean nothing.”
Thea’s throat tightened—but her voice didn’t. “It never meant nothing. It meant you.”
Shego nodded once. That was enough. Behind them, Harrington moved forward—students laughing, ideas colliding, futures taking shape. And for the first time in a long while, Thea felt certain. She hadn’t failed.