The Supernova Effect

Chapter 30

Daisuke

Birthdays stopped meaning anything after I turned thirteen.

Now they just feel like reminders—of everything I've survived, and everything I haven't.

So when Nova sent me a location pin and asked me to come pick her up from some rooftop, I didn't question it. I just came.

But the moment I stepped through the door, I knew something was off.

"Surprise!" Everyone shouted as I walked in. and I immediately felt out of place.

It wasn't the crowd—it was the way the sky looked too perfect, like even the stars had been hired to twinkle for me. R&B music bounced through the speakers, champagne shimmered in towers of plastic glasses, and a gold balloon banner screamed "HAPPY 21ST BIRTHDAY!" like it knew me better than I knew myself. I had hoped  they'd forget it was my birthday.

But Nova was front and center, Smiling like this was all for a good reason.

It wasn't.

It was a distraction from everything I hadn't told them. Everything I had.

I walked forward, trying to look like I appreciated the surprise. People were clapping, some were filming. I nodded and smiled — whatever version of a smile I still had left.

My hand clutched my pocket feeling for it, my escape, My Novocain. I let out a sigh of relief and leave it there for now.

Nova walks up to me and kissed my cheek and lingered.

"Happy birthday." She smiles and I lean in kissing her on the lips, memorizing the sensation. Trying to ground myself.

"Thank you." I whisper and I start to scan the crowd.

Maria and Gisele stood near the bar, laughing at something Giovanni said. Nahmari and Andre were by the edge of the rooftop, low voices and shared smoke between them, their silhouettes outlined by city lights. Sofia and my mom were talking by the DJ stand.

And Darius, my newly found half brother was moving toward me.

"Happy birthday," he said, holding out a black-wrapped box. His voice was calm, maybe even careful. "This is from... him."

From him.

I didn't need to ask who he meant.

I stared at the box. Matte black wrapping paper, gold ribbon. Neat. Precise. The kind of thing someone picked out when they couldn't afford to get the contents wrong.

I opened it slowly. Inside: a polished wooden case. My heart started pounding before I even saw what was inside.

A watch.

Gold face. Black leather band. Vintage. Familiar.

I didn't know where or when, but I'd seen it before—probably in a photo I burned in my head years ago. It had his energy. Cold. Regal. Like it ticked to its own laws.

No note. No letter. No apology.

I swallowed the lump rising in my throat and looked up.

"Why now?" I asked.

Darius shrugged. "He wanted me to give it to you when I thought you were ready."

"You thought?"

"He trusted me to know." His tone shifted slightly, defensive.

The blunt honesty in his eyes forced me to stop. He wasn't trying to be my father's messenger. He was trying to be my brother.

"Thanks," I said quietly, not to him, not to anyone in particular.