My life

A ruined birthday

GENEVIEVE POV

When I finally worked up the courage to ask for a towel, I hadn't realized how tight my chest already was. I cracked the bathroom door just enough to speak, my voice barely above a whisper. He answered immediately and grabbed one, and when I heard his footsteps getting closer too close panic flared hot and sudden.

"Stop!" I yelled before I could think.

The word came out sharp, frightened, louder than I meant it to be. My heart slammed painfully against my ribs, embarrassment flooding me right after the fear.

He stopped instantly.

"I'm sorry," I rushed to say, my face burning even though he couldn't see it. "Can you just... leave it by the door?"

"Of course," he said gently, without even a hint of irritation.

I heard the towel drop softly to the floor, then his footsteps retreating. The bathroom door stayed closed. He didn't linger. He didn't question it. That small act listening without pushing made my throat tighten.

I wrapped the towel around myself and took my time getting ready after that. Really took my time. I brushed my hair slowly, noticing how it felt different under my fingers. Thicker. Healthier. It caught me off guard, that small change. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and stared at myself for a moment longer than usual.

I didn't look perfect. I didn't even look "good." But I looked... better. And that mattered.

I chose sweatpants and a hoodie, both soft and oversized, clothes that hid most of me from the world. Armor, in fabric form. I felt safer wrapped up like that.

When I walked back into the bedroom, I stopped short.

Mica was sitting on the bed, a small box in his hands, wrapped in bright birthday paper. He was smiling really smiling the kind that crinkled his eyes and made him look younger somehow.

"Happy birthday," he said softly. "You said you don't celebrate, but you never said anything about gifts."

My chest felt tight again, but in a different way.

I took the box carefully, like it might vanish if I moved too fast, and peeled back the paper. Inside was a phone.

I stared at it, stunned.

I'd never had a phone before. Never been trusted with one. Never been allowed one. The realization hit me all at once, and my eyes burned.

"I don't even know how to use this," I admitted.

"That's okay," he said easily, sitting closer. He showed me the basics how to unlock it, how to text, how to call. He'd already put important numbers in it. His. Mia's. The nurse's. Even the pack doctor's.

"You're never unreachable again," he said quietly.

Something in my chest cracked open at that.

While he was explaining, my stomach growled loudly, breaking the moment. We both froze for a second before meeting each other's eyes. He smiled.

"Let's get breakfast," he said.

Downstairs, he asked me what I wanted. The question felt big. Too big. I wasn't used to choosing. Usually, food was whatever was available or nothing at all.

But this time felt different.

It was my birthday.

"I want chocolate chip pancakes," I said suddenly, excitement bubbling up before fear could stop it. "With whipped cream. And sprinkles."

He blinked, surprised, then laughed softly. "Alright. Birthday breakfast it is."

---

MICAS POV

I was a little nervous when she told me what she wanted. Chocolate chips, whipped cream, sprinkles—rich, heavy food. The doctor's warnings echoed in my head. But today wasn't about perfection. It was about joy.

So I made them.

I watched her eat carefully, not in a controlling way, but in a protective one. She took her time, savoring each bite, smiling to herself like the world had briefly narrowed down to just pancakes and sweetness. Seeing that expression on her face made my chest ache in the best way.

Then there was a knock at the door.

I went to answer it, instinctively positioning myself between the entrance and the kitchen. One of the pack members stood outside, holding an envelope.

"For Genevieve," he said.

It didn't have postal markings. No return address. Probably Mia, I thought. I took it back inside and handed it to her.

She looked excited at first curious, hopeful. Then her face drained of color so fast it scared me. Her hands started to shake. The letter slipped from her fingers and fluttered to the floor.

She stood abruptly, one hand over her mouth, and ran for the bathroom.

"Genevieve!" I called, already moving after her, dread coiling tight in my chest.

Whatever was in that letter had just shattered something fragile.

And I knew without a doubt that the rest of the day was about to change.