The paper sat on the table long after Marcus walked away, long after Betty and Bessie strutted triumphantly out of the yard, long after Aunt Beverly whispered a quiet prayer under her breath.
Essie stared at it the whole time, her heart thudding in confused, frantic beats. The words Queenship Application Form might as well have been written in fire.
Her name looked back at her in tidy handwriting — her own — from when the twins had insisted she "practice filling it in," never dreaming Marcus would quietly finish the job. Her signature was shaky. His was steady.
It felt like their entire lives summarized in ink.
Farrah finally broke the silence, leaning over with a dramatic sigh.
"Well, cousin," she muttered, "you officially sign up for madness."
Essie groaned, buried her face in her hands, and wished she could rewind the universe.
"I didn't sign," she whispered. "Marcus did."
"Same difference," Farrah said with a shrug. "You know how Andros stay — once ya name on a form, the whole island already rooting for you."
"That's exactly what I don't want," Essie cried, sinking back into her chair.
Aunt Beverly's voice drifted from the doorway. "Something in your spirit resisting because you feel unworthy," she said calmly. "Not because you not supposed to go."
Essie closed her eyes.
Not this again.
"Please, Aunt Beverly," she breathed. "Can we not do the prophetic thing today? I already overwhelmed."
Aunt Beverly stepped onto the porch, sat beside her, and gently cupped Essie's chin.
"Child... I know overwhelm," she said softly. "But sometimes what frighten you is what freeing you."
Essie didn't answer. Her chest felt too tight, too full. The truth was heavier than anyone realized:
She wasn't afraid of the opportunity.
She was afraid of herself.
Afraid of being seen again.
Afraid of being hurt again.
Because the last time she stepped out of her quiet Andros life to reach for something bigger, she ended up with her heart shattered into pieces so sharp she still felt them some mornings.
The sound of the sea drifted across the yard — steady, rhythmic, comforting. But even the sea couldn't drown out the memories rising inside her.
Essie used to dream.
And she dreamed big.
Not for fame.
Not for crowns.
But for purpose.
She planned to leave Andros after high school, attend UB, study Early Childhood Education, start a children's center, help island families — a whole bright path stretched out before her like Queen's Highway in full sunlight.
Then came him.
Darius Colebrook.
Older. Charming. Sweet-talking Darius, the fisherman's son with the deep laugh and the promise of forever.
Essie wasn't naïve. She wasn't desperate. She wasn't lonely.
But he made her feel seen.
For a girl who lived most of her life in the quiet corners of rooms, helping others shine, feeling invisible even in her own home sometimes... being seen was intoxicating.
He told her she was beautiful.
Important.
A woman worth building with.
A woman worth choosing.
He made her believe in things she never admitted wanting.
He promised he would wait while she studied in Nassau.
And Essie, foolish with first love, turned down her UB acceptance because he said long distance would break them. Because he asked, "Why you running behind big dreams when you already got me?"
She chose love.
And it cost her everything.
Six months later... he left.
No big fight. No long explanation. He just woke up one morning, said he needed "space to grow," and that was it.
But Andros is small.
Secrets don't stay secrets.
He didn't need space.
He needed someone else.
Someone louder.
Flashier.
Less soft.
Less humble.
Someone who looked better on his arm and matched his new "grown man goals."
Essie cried for weeks. Then months. She pretended she was fine, but she carried the secret shame: she had rearranged her whole life for a man who didn't even give her a thank you on his way out.
After that, she never fully dreamed again.
She didn't go back to UB.
She stayed on Andros.
She helped Aunt Beverly around the house.
She babysat kids in the settlement.
She worked small jobs and kept her voice quiet.
Life became simple.
Safe.
But never full.
Not since Darius.
"Essie," Aunt Beverly murmured, rubbing her shoulder gently. "Tell me what you're thinking."
"That I don't belong in anything national," Essie whispered. "That I ain't nobody important. I'm just—"
Farrah snorted so loud Essie jumped.
"Girl, don't start that foolishness," Farrah said, rolling her eyes. "You 'just' what? Just kind? Just smart? Just beautiful? Please."
Essie blushed. "I'm serious."
"So am I," Farrah shot back. "What you think the Queenship Program looking for? Video vixens? Instagram stars? No, girl. They want real people. Real Bahamian women. Women with heritage. Women with sense."
Essie shook her head. "I don't want people watching me."
"That's your problem," Farrah said. "You scared of eyes. But maybe the right eyes need to see you."
Essie's heart skipped.
"No," she said quickly. "I don't want anybody looking at me. I don't want attention. I don't want—"
"Closure?" Farrah asked quietly.
Essie froze.
Farrah leaned back, lips curling in mischief. "Speaking of closure..."
Here it comes.
"Guess who engaged?"
Aunt Beverly lifted a hand in warning. "Farrah—"
"No, let me tell her," Farrah insisted. "She deserve to know."
Essie's voice came out small. "Who?"
Farrah's grin widened.
"Darius."
Essie felt something inside her jolt — not the sharp stab of fresh pain, but the echo of it. The ghost of an old wound.
Her throat tightened. "Engaged... already?"
"To who?" Aunt Beverly demanded, frowning like she was gearing up to rebuke a demon by name.
Farrah clasped her hands dramatically. "To Shayla Taylor."
Essie blinked.
The whole world seemed to blink with her.
Shayla.
Loud, showy, always center of attention Shayla.
The girl who made Essie feel dusty and invisible without saying a word.
Darius never wanted "big dreams," but apparently he wanted Shayla.
Essie's stomach turned.
Memories came fast —
Darius saying he didn't want a woman who "needed too much."
Saying Essie's dreams were "too big."
Saying he couldn't be with someone who wanted "more than island life."
Yet here he was, engaged to a woman who wanted everything and didn't apologize for it.
Aunt Beverly let out a long breath. "Lord, cover we."
Essie swallowed. "When... when this happen?"
"This morning," Farrah said. "Shayla post the ring on Facebook and tag the whole settlement. Caption say: Finally marrying my soulmate."
Essie closed her eyes as a familiar sting rippled through her chest.
Why did it still hurt?
Why did it feel like a betrayal she never agreed to experience twice?
Farrah's face softened. "Essie... I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to hurt you."
"No," Essie whispered. "It's okay. I'm over it. I'm... over him."
But she wasn't. Not completely.
Pieces of him still sat in the quiet part of her heart — the part that once believed love was safe.
Aunt Beverly placed a firm hand over Essie's.
"You hear me," she said. "That man was a lesson, not a destiny. Sometimes God let you lose something so He can make room for something greater."
Essie stared at the cassava in her hands, her vision blurring.
"I don't know if I want anything greater," she admitted. "I just want peace."
"And maybe," Aunt Beverly whispered, "peace waiting in a direction you never thought to look."
Essie didn't respond.
Because somewhere deep down, she felt it too — something shifting. Like the ground under her wasn't as still as she thought.
Later that evening, as the sun sank behind the pines and turned the Andros sky into a wash of gold, Essie walked down to the shoreline for air. The waves curled around her toes, cool and calming. The breeze tasted like salt and possibility.
Her life was simple.
Predictable.
Safe.
She wasn't ready for change.
She wasn't ready for Nassau.
She wasn't ready for any kind of spotlight.
She wasn't ready for—
Her thoughts stopped when she saw Marcus walking toward her, hands tucked into his pockets, face unreadable.
She braced herself.
"You upset with me?" he asked when he reached her.
Essie shook her head. "Not upset. Just... surprised."
Marcus nodded slowly, eyes on the horizon. "Essie... I never want to push you. But I see things you don't see."
"Like what?" she asked quietly.
"That you stronger than you think," he said. "That you got something inside you people need. Something that could help more than just this island."
Essie gave a shaky laugh. "Marcus, please. I'm just one girl from Andros with a quiet life."
"There's nothing 'just' about you," he said, voice firm.
Heat crept up her neck. She looked away.
They stood in silence a moment, listening to the sea.
"And if you ever go Nassau," Marcus added, "I going with you. I promise."
Essie's mouth curved into a small smile. "Thank you."
"You ain't alone," he said. "Not now. Not ever."
A breeze rustled the casuarina trees above them.
Essie wrapped her arms around herself as the shadows stretched long across the sand.
"I don't know if I'm ready," she whispered.
"Most people ain't ready for their calling," Marcus replied. "But the calling still comes."
She looked up at him, heart pounding. "And what if it destroys me?"
"What if it builds you?" he countered. "What if it lead you exactly where you supposed to be?"
She didn't answer.
Because she didn't know.
Not yet.
Night fell over Andros like a soft blanket. Essie walked back home, thoughts heavy, emotions tangled.
The porch light was on. Aunt Beverly always left it that way — a quiet message in the dark: I see you. I'm waiting.
Essie stepped inside.
The house was warm. Familiar. Safe.
For a moment, she almost let herself believe nothing was changing.
Then she saw it.
An envelope on the kitchen table.
Official.
Stamped.
Marked: URGENT.
Her heart stumbled.
"Aunt Beverly?" she called.
Aunt Beverly emerged from the back, drying her hands on a towel. "Essie... something come for you."
Essie swallowed. "What is it?"
"Open it and see," Aunt Beverly said gently.
Essie's fingers trembled as she slid them under the seal. The paper inside felt heavy, expensive, undeniably government-official.
She unfolded it slowly.
Her eyes scanned the top line.
Then widened.
Then froze.
You are hereby invited to Nassau for the Queenship preliminary selection...
The words swam on the page.
Essie's breath rushed out of her lungs. The room tilted. Her heart hammered so hard she could feel it in her throat, in her fingertips, in the soles of her feet.
Aunt Beverly whispered, almost reverent:
"Child... your life just change."