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Elaine looked cornered. “The girls were too attached. Every time Lily came over, Nova forgot where she belonged. And Patrick forgot that Nova was his stepdaughter.”
Nova stepped back.
I moved beside her. “She belonged with people who loved her.”
The side door opened. Andrea leaned out. “Nova? We’re announcing you now.”
Nova wiped her face.
Elaine said, “You don’t have to do this.”
“The girls were too attached.”
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Nova looked at the invitation in my hand.
“Yes,” she said. “I do.”
Elaine turned sharply. “You are not speaking tonight.”
Nova looked at me, then at Patrick. Her hands shook, but her chin lifted.
“Yes, I am.”
We walked back into the gallery as Andrea stepped to the front.
“Our next artist is Nova,” she said carefully.
Nova stood beside the painting. Elaine stayed near the wall, stiff with anger. Patrick stood beside me, pale and silent. Tracy squeezed my hand.
“Our next artist is Nova.”
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Nova faced the room.
“My painting is called Self-Portrait,” she began. “I know it doesn’t look like me at all. Lily was my stepsister. She died three years ago.”
The gallery went quiet.
“People told me to be myself again after she died,” Nova said. “But Lily was part of who I was. She called me Supernova when I felt small. She made me brave before I knew how to be.”
Elaine whispered, “Nova, stop.”
Andrea stepped in front of her. “Let her finish.”
“She died three years ago.”
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Nova wiped her face. “Some people wanted me to stop saying Lily’s name because it made them uncomfortable. But grief isn’t bad manners. I painted her because loving her changed me. Losing her changed me too. This is the part of me named Lily.”
Elaine moved like she might pull Nova away, but Andrea raised a hand.
“No,” Andrea said calmly. “Nova told us what this piece means. The title stays with her.”
Elaine looked around, waiting for someone to rescue her from the silence.
No one did.
Then the room started clapping.
“I painted her because loving her changed me.”
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Nova broke then, and I went to her.
“May I?”
She nodded, and I hugged her.
“I’m sorry I missed her party,” she sobbed.
“You were a child,” I whispered. “The adults were supposed to be braver and smarter. And kinder.”
Patrick’s voice cracked behind me. “I let Elaine make Lily smaller because I was too much of a coward to argue in my own house.”
Nova broke then.
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“Yes,” I said. “So start fixing what can still be fixed.”
That night, Andrea changed the label to “The Part of Me Named Lily: Nova, 15.”
***
A week later, Patrick brought Lily’s boxes over. There were drawings, photos, and a bracelet with L + N in tiny beads.
Nova touched one photo. “She laughed right after this.”
“What happened?”