Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You see, ever since Daniela was a little girl, she loved birthdays. Heck, she considered July 1 — her special day — one of the best days of her life.

For as long as she could remember, her birthdays were everything a kid could wish for: balloons, a piñata, party hats, chocolate cake, and classmates running around in chaos and laughter. There was karaoke, parlor games, and greetings from family and relatives — whether in person or on social media.

But most importantly, there were gifts.

People often apologized for not bringing her any, and she would always say it was fine — that their presence was enough. But truth be told, Daniela wasn’t perfect, and sorry-not-sorry, she really liked getting gifts. Even when she got older.

In high school, things started to change. The parties were no longer filled with balloons or piñatas but with drinks and loud music. Her “birthday celebrations” became more about alcohol and less about joy. One by one, her childhood traditions faded away, replaced by hangovers and fake laughter.

Still, she had her circle of friends — and one of them was her so-called situationship, Jonah.

Then came college — a whole different world. A new city, new people, new everything. She moved to LA, and just like that, her birthdays became painfully quiet. For the first two years, she didn’t even bother celebrating. No close friends, no real company. Just obligatory messages from classmates and a few emojis from distant acquaintances.

She told herself it was fine. That growing up meant learning to be okay with being alone. But every year, when the clock struck midnight, that familiar emptiness settled in her chest again — a hollow reminder that things weren’t the same anymore.

It wasn’t until her third year in college that something different happened.

Her parents called, telling her to come home to Atlanta, Georgia — the day before her birthday. They said the whole family would be there to celebrate Manon’s job promotion and the christening of Daniela’s new niece. Sure, the celebrations would overlap, but Daniela didn’t mind. The thought of coming home, of having another heartfelt birthday surrounded by family again — it made her heart race with excitement.

Her parents told her they’d pick her up from her dorm and that they would be having a road trip back to Atlanta, Georgia, since Daniela loves road trips.

So, despite the mountain of deadlines and only two hours of sleep, Daniela spent the whole day finishing her schoolwork and cleaning her dorm. Exhausted but buzzing with anticipation, she told herself it would all be worth it.

After all, maybe this year — just maybe — things would finally feel like they used to.

When Daniela woke up, her eyes felt heavy, her body begging for more sleep. But despite the exhaustion, she couldn’t help but feel giddy. Her parents were supposed to pick her up today — a long-awaited road trip back to Atlanta, just in time for her birthday tomorrow.

It had been years since she last celebrated it at home. Just thinking about it made her smile.

She stretched, yawning as she grabbed her phone from the bedside table. One new message. From Mom.

Mom:
Hi sweetie, sorry! Plans changed. We can’t pick you up anymore — too much going on with the christening prep and Manon’s celebration. We booked you a flight instead, it leaves in 3 hours. Check your email. Love you! ❤️

Her smile faded.
She sat up, blinking at her screen.

“Wait—what?”

She scrolled again, hoping she read it wrong. But no. It was all there in plain text.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she muttered, dragging her hands down her face. “A plane ticket? In three hours?”

Panic kicked in. She scrambled out of bed, pulling her suitcase out from under it. Clothes flew everywhere as she packed what she could — chargers, toiletries, a half-folded sweater.

“This is so not how I imagined this day,” she said to herself, shoving shoes into her bag.

By the time she got out of her dorm, her heart was racing. She flagged down a taxi, stepped off the curb—

—and nearly got flattened by a speeding car.

The horn blared, wind brushed past her face, and she stumbled back with a startled yelp.

“Jeez!” she shouted, clutching her chest. “Okay! Okay! I get it! Bad luck, fine! Just let me live till tomorrow!”

The driver gave her a weird look when she climbed into the taxi, still muttering under her breath.

“Airport, please,” she said, trying to calm herself.

After a couple of chaotic hours, Daniela finally landed in Georgia.

And the moment she stepped into the arrival lobby, she saw them — her parents, waving from a distance.

Her mom pulled her into a tight hug the second she got close. “Oh, my baby! How are you? You look thinner! Are you eating properly?”

Daniela laughed, melting a little. “Barely, but I’m here now.”

Her dad kissed her cheek. “You look exhausted, kiddo. You been sleeping at all?”

She smiled sheepishly. “Two hours. I wanted to finish all my work before flying.”

They both chuckled — the kind of warm, teasing laugh that made Daniela forget how tired she was. For a moment, the chaos of the day didn’t matter. She was home.

That feeling lasted until they pulled up to the hotel.

“Wait,” Daniela said, eyes widening as she stepped out of the car. “We’re staying here?”

Before her was a sleek glass building gleaming under the afternoon sun — a five-star hotel, the kind she’d only seen in travel vlogs.

“Yup!” her mom said proudly. “Your tios and tias handled the reservation. It’s all covered, so no need to worry.”

Her dad grinned. “They said it’s a celebration — Manon’s promotion, the christening, and your birthday. Might as well go all out.”

Inside, Daniela couldn’t help but feel… out of place. The lobby was filled with marble floors, gold accents, and people in designer clothes. She glanced down at her faded jeans and sneakers.

“Wow,” she muttered. “I look like the lost delivery girl.”

Her mom nudged her playfully. “You look fine. Stop overthinking.”

In the suite, the familiar chatter of family greeted her — tias catching up, tios laughing too loudly, cousins running around.

“Daniela!” one of her tias exclaimed, rushing over. “Look at you! Still so pretty!”

Daniela smiled awkwardly, giving a polite hug. “Hi tia Sylvia. It’s been a while.”

Then a small blur collided with her side.

“Dani!”

She looked down to see Emil — her twelve-year-old cousin — grinning up at her.

“Emil!” she laughed. “You grew so much! What happened? Did you eat your vitamins and your homework?”

He snorted. “You’re funny. Did you bring me anything from LA?”

“Uh… does my presence count?”

He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Lame. But fine.”

The two of them stuck together for the next hour, chatting about games, his school, and how he “accidentally” broke a vase last week and didn’t get caught.

Then Manon arrived — glowing as always, dressed in soft beige, with her wife Lara beside her. Lara carried their two-month-old baby, Quinny, while their son Caleb clung to her leg.

“Dani!” Manon greeted, her tone warm but slightly reserved. “Long time no see.”

“Too long,” Daniela said softly, hugging her sister. For a second, it felt like old times. But the distance between them lingered — subtle, but real.

“Hi, Lara,” Daniela smiled. “And hey, little man.” She crouched to greet Caleb, but before she could say another word, the boy darted away toward another cousin.

“Cool,” Daniela muttered. “Kids love me.”

Everyone laughed.

Then her gaze shifted to the baby in Lara’s arms. “She’s beautiful,” she said quietly. “Can I…?”

“Of course,” Lara said gently, handing Quinny over.

But the moment Quinny landed in Dani’s arms, her little face scrunched — and then came the loud, piercing cry.

“Oh no, oh no—please don’t cry, baby, I’m not scary!” Daniela panicked, gently rocking her, but the crying only got louder.

Lara quickly stepped in, taking Quinny back with an apologetic smile. “She’s still adjusting to people.”

Manon chuckled. “Don’t take it personally. She cries at everyone except us.”

“Even babies reject me now. Great,” Daniela said, half-joking but half-defeated.

As the day went on, her tias talked about tomorrow’s plans — the christening in the morning, Manon’s dinner party at night, and a hotel buffet in between.

“Perfect timing, Dani,” her dad said cheerfully. “We’ll celebrate your birthday too. Triple the fun!”

“Right,” Daniela said, smiling faintly. “Triple.”

That night, as she unpacked her things in the hotel room, she stood by the window, looking down at the glowing streets of Atlanta. The laughter from the other rooms echoed faintly through the walls.

She thought of all the birthdays she’d had — loud, warm, chaotic — and how this one already felt… different. Not bad. Just unfamiliar.

She sighed and whispered to herself, “It’s fine. It’s just one day. Tomorrow’s gonna be great. It has to be.”

But somehow, deep down, she wasn’t sure if she believed it.

Daniela was sound asleep, curled up under the hotel blanket beside her parents’ bed. The room was quiet except for the hum of the air conditioner and the soft rhythm of her dad’s snoring.

Then — beep, beep.

Her phone lit up on the nightstand, the brightness slicing through the dark. She groaned, rubbing her eyes. “Ugh… what time is it?”

She blinked at the screen. 12:04 a.m.

And then it hit her.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, sitting up. “It’s my birthday. I’m freaking twenty-two.”

Before she could even process that thought, her phone started buzzing nonstop — notifications flooding in from Snapchat, Instagram, and X. Birthday greetings, story mentions, old classmates tagging her on throwback photos.

Happy Birthday, Dani!
You’re 22 already? Gosh, time flies!
Miss u girl! Hope you’re doing fine!

Her tired face softened into a smile. Maybe this year would be okay after all.

Then she saw his name pop up.

Jonah:

happy birthday

That was it. No emoji. No “hope you’re well.” Just two dry words.

Daniela stared at the message for a long second, her stomach twisting. For someone she’d spent years tangled up with — on and off, complicated, never defined — it stung.

But she shrugged it off, typing back a simple:

thank u :)

“Not gonna ruin my day,” she muttered to herself. “Not this time.”

After replying to the rest of the messages and liking everyone’s greetings, she stood up. She really had to pee.

Half-asleep and clutching her phone, she tiptoed across the dark room toward the bathroom — and almost screamed when a figure suddenly moved in the shadows.

“Happy birthday, my baby girl!”

It was her mom — whisper-yelling, trying not to wake her dad. Daniela blinked, startled, then laughed as her mom wrapped her in a tight hug.

“Mom! You scared me!” she whispered.

Her mom just laughed softly, pressing a big kiss on her cheek. “I couldn’t wait till morning. Happy birthday, sweetheart. I love you.”

For a moment, Daniela froze — caught off guard by how warm it felt. Her mom hadn’t been this affectionate in years.

“Thanks, Mom,” she whispered, smiling genuinely. “That means a lot.”

Her mom smiled back, patting her cheek. “Now go pee and get back to sleep, okay? Big day today.”

When Daniela returned to bed, she felt lighter. There was something comforting about that small, unexpected gesture — enough to make her heart flutter as she drifted back to sleep.

At exactly six in the morning, she was gently shaken awake by her dad.

“Hey, birthday girl,” he said softly. “Rise and shine.”

Daniela groaned, half-buried in the pillow. “Mm… five more minutes?”

Her dad chuckled. “No can do, princess. Got a christening and a birthday to conquer.”

That made her grin. “Okay, okay, I’m up.”

After showering, she took her time getting ready. She picked a cream blouse with soft sleeves, tucked neatly into khaki slacks, and slipped into the only pair of heels she owned. Not her favorite thing — her feet already hated her — but she wanted to look her best.

In the mirror, she dabbed on light makeup. She wasn’t the type to go full glam, but today she wanted to feel… something. Pretty, maybe. Confident.

When she joined her parents in the lobby, they were all dressed and waiting. Daniela sat down beside them, scrolling through her phone again — a few more birthday pings lighting up her screen.

Ten minutes later, her tios, tias, and cousins arrived — the whole crew.

“Good morning!” Daniela greeted brightly.

But no one really responded. Most of them were busy wrangling kids, checking their phones, or talking over one another. Manon was juggling Quinny and a crying Caleb, while Lara was trying to calm them both down.

Daniela’s smile faltered for half a second, but she caught herself. They’re just busy, she told herself. It’s fine. They’ve got a lot going on.

She kept that smile plastered on, even as they all started heading out toward the cars.

“Dani,” Manon called out, holding up her phone. “I’ll share my location with you, just in case you and Mom and Dad get lost, okay?”

“Got it,” Dani said, nodding. “Thanks.”

Just as she was about to step into the car, a small pair of arms suddenly wrapped around her waist.

“Happy birthday, Dani!”

It was Emil, grinning up at her.

Her heart melted. “Aw, thanks, bud. You remembered.”

“Of course I did! You’re my favorite cousin!”

Then, just as quickly, he ran off to join his parents.

Daniela smiled to herself, watching him go. “At least someone did.”

Inside the car, her parents sat up front while she settled in the back seat. Her dad turned on the radio — the soft, haunting voice of Jeff Buckley filled the car.

“It’s never over, my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder…”

Her favorite song.

For a few minutes, the world felt gentle. The morning light streamed through the windows, painting everything gold. Her mom hummed softly along, her dad’s hand tapping on the steering wheel. Daniela closed her eyes, breathing it in.

Then, the calm broke.

Her phone buzzed again — a call from Manon.

“Hey, what’s up?” Daniela answered.

“Ugh, we took a wrong turn,” Manon said, her voice tense. “Can you check the pin I sent? We might be heading the wrong way again.”

Daniela frowned, glancing at the map. “I think you’re supposed to go left at the next intersection.”

“No, that doesn’t look right—wait, Lara, stop—turn around—ugh!”

Daniela pulled the phone slightly away from her ear, the chaos on the other line growing louder.

Her dad sighed. “They’re lost again?”

“Apparently,” Daniela muttered. “And she sounds… stressed.”

“Always is,” her mom mumbled.

The drive stretched on — a few wrong turns later, and they finally pulled into the church parking lot.

“We made it,” her dad said, cutting the engine.

Daniela let out a small laugh. “Barely.”

As she stepped out of the car, the sun hit her face — warm, blinding, and strangely heavy.

Her birthday had just begun.

And though she didn’t know it yet, this was only the start of what would become the longest, loneliest birthday of her life.

When they finally arrived at the church for the christening, everything felt serene. Manon, Lara, Quinny, and Caleb stood near the baptismal font as the ceremony began — flashes of cameras, gentle laughter, murmurs of prayer. The family gathered for photos, and Daniela joined in, smiling when needed, even if her heart already felt a bit distant.

Then she spotted Vince — one of her closest cousins. He was four years older than her, practically the big brother she never had. When he saw her, his face lit up. “Daniela!” he called, wrapping her in a warm hug. It was the kind of hug that made her feel seen. They chatted for a while, and before they knew it, everyone was heading toward the altar area for another round of family photos.

The church interior was beautiful — high ceilings, light streaming through colored glass, saints carved into the arches above. Daniela found herself whispering a quiet “thank you” to the saints as she made her birthday wish in silence. But just as she was about to step back, a sharp voice cut through the calm.

“Excuse me, young lady! You can’t go there.”
An elderly woman, frowning, pointed toward the gate in front of the altar.

Startled, Daniela immediately shook her head. “Oh—no, ma’am. I wasn’t going to cross. I was just looking.”

But the woman continued to scold her, muttering things Daniela couldn’t quite make out — something about “boundaries” and “respect.” Daniela apologized again, trying to keep her tone soft.

Before she could say more, Vince appeared, with little Emil tagging along beside him. “Is there a problem here?” Vince asked politely but firmly. The woman just huffed and walked away. Daniela exhaled, forcing a small laugh. Vince just smiled and shrugged, as if to say don’t mind her.

When the ceremony ended, everyone began filing out of the church. Vince, Emil, and Daniela trailed behind. Just as they reached the doors, Vince said, “Hey, let’s take a picture of you in front of the church. It’s your birthday!”

But no one else stopped. Their relatives — even Manon and Lara — simply kept walking toward the cars, talking among themselves as if they hadn’t heard. Daniela’s smile wavered but stayed fixed, polite and tight.

Vince sighed and checked his phone. “Damn. Dead battery.” He turned to Emil. “Hey bud, can you take one for Dani?”

Emil nodded eagerly, but just as he lifted the phone, a shout came from the parking lot.
“Let’s go! We’re leaving!”

Vince and Emil exchanged quick glances — apologetic smiles. Daniela nodded, pretending not to mind.
“It’s fine,” she said softly. “Let’s just go.”

And so, they did — climbing into separate cars once again, the brief flicker of warmth fading into the quiet hum of the ride ahead.

When they arrived at the venue, Daniela’s first thought was simple: it was… fine.
Small, modest, and not exactly what she imagined — but fine. The place buzzed with chatter from both the Raj and Avanzini families. The decorations were cute, the food was bomb, no doubt about that, but something about the atmosphere just didn’t sit right with her. She couldn’t explain it, but deep down, she already knew this wouldn’t make it to her list of memorable family celebrations.

Still, she smiled through it, trying to enjoy her meal with her uncles and aunts. Then, out of nowhere, her tia Sylvia gasped mid-conversation.
“Oh! Today’s your birthday, right? I almost forgot!”

Daniela blinked, a little stunned, before giving a small laugh. “Yeah,” she said softly.

Aunt Sylvia reached over to pat her shoulder, greeting her cheerfully. Soon, the others followed — a chorus of “Happy birthday, Dani!” filled the table.

Her heart fluttered for a moment. It felt good — warm, even — to be remembered. But under that warmth, something still ached. She knew she should be grateful, and she was. But it still hurt that the people she grew up close with — the ones who used to celebrate her birthdays with cake and laughter — had nearly forgotten.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and smiled anyway.

As the christening program began, Daniela noticed Quinny fussing in Lara’s arms. Without thinking, she walked over, smiling. “Can I hold her?”

Lara’s face lit up, not realizing what day it was. “Of course,” she said, handing Quinny over carefully. Daniela’s heart melted when Quinny didn’t cry — just stared at her curiously.

But before Daniela could even say a word, the Raj family — one of Lara’s in-laws — came rushing over. They took Quinny back with polite smiles, thanking Daniela briefly before walking away. She didn’t even get the chance to respond.

Her hands suddenly felt cold. She stood there awkwardly for a second before heading back to her table, pasting her smile back on like nothing happened.

Then came the games. The godparents — godfathers versus godmothers. Vince was among the godfathers, laughing with the others, while the godmothers huddled on the opposite side. Daniela watched, amused at first, until someone said:

“We’re missing one on the godmother side!”

Before she could look away, Lara turned to her.
“Dani! You should join! Just for fun!”

Daniela froze. “Huh? But I’m not even a godmother—”

“Come on, Dani,” someone chimed in. “We just need one more to make it even.”

She wanted to say no. She really did. But everyone was watching, waiting. And so she nodded, forcing a small laugh. “Okay, sure.”

As the game started, Daniela tried to join in — suggesting ideas, cheering along, doing her best to fit in. But no one really listened. The women exchanged inside jokes, laughed at things she didn’t understand, moved like they’d known each other for years. Daniela felt like an extra in a movie she didn’t audition for.

When the winners were announced, the godmothers all received grand prizes — pretty gift baskets filled with scented candles, chocolates, and lotions. Some even got Starbucks gift cards and sleek tumblers wrapped with shiny bows.

Then came Daniela’s turn. Her name was called last. She walked to the front, smiling politely, and received her consolation prize — a small pack of wet wipes and a couple of instant coffee sachets tied together with a thin gold ribbon.

The crowd laughed lightly — playful, but still stinging.
“Oh, that’s useful though!” someone joked from the back.

Daniela chuckled softly, clutching the prize in her hands like it didn’t matter. “Yeah,” she said under her breath, “super useful.”

She walked back to her table, still smiling. Vince and Emil were there waiting for her, both grinning.

“Hey, at least you got coffee,” Vince said, trying to lighten the mood. “Perfect for your two hours of sleep.”

Emil snickered beside him. “And wet wipes! Just in case you cry later.”

That made Daniela laugh for real — a small, genuine sound she didn’t expect. “You two are the worst,” she said, shaking her head.

“Maybe,” Vince said, leaning back in his chair. “But we’re still your fans.”

And for a moment, just a brief one, Daniela’s heart felt a little lighter.

Then suddenly, Manon, Lara, Quinny, and Caleb walked toward their table. Daniela turned her head just in time to hear Manon softly say,
“Happy birthday, Dani.”

For a moment, Dani froze, unable to process what she just heard. She looked up to see her sister smiling at her — an apologetic smile, one that said I’m sorry I forgot.
“Th-thank you,” Dani stammered, forcing a little smile.

Lara, standing beside Manon and unaware of their brief exchange, adjusted Quinny in her arms. “Caleb,” Manon said sweetly, “say happy birthday to Aunt Daniela.”

But the little boy only frowned, shook his head, and ran off giggling. Daniela laughed it off. “It’s okay,” she said, waving.

After the party, they headed back to the car. The road was quiet, golden light spilling from the late afternoon sun through the windshield. Then her dad asked,
“So, birthday girl — what gift do you want?”

Daniela smiled faintly, resting her chin on her palm. “Hmm… none, for now.”

As they passed by a nearby mall in front of their hotel, she noticed the big movie posters lined up outside the cinema. One title caught her eye — a love drama she had been waiting months to watch. Her eyes lit up.

“I kind of want to see that movie,” she said softly.

Her mom turned to her. “With who?”

Daniela’s smile faltered. “Oh… no one.”

She thought about Emil — too young to watch. Vince — probably still helping out at the venue. And her parents — she couldn’t bother them anymore.

“You could come with me?” she tried, hopeful.

Her dad chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, sweetheart, we’re exhausted. Long drive, long day.”

Her mom added, “You can go if you want, we’ll just rest here.”

Daniela looked at the cinema again, her chest tightening a little. “No, it’s fine,” she said quickly. “I’ll just watch it… somewhere online later.”

She forced a little laugh, but it came out thin.

Then her dad asked, “Okay, then what about cake? What flavor do you want?”

Her eyes widened. “Wait— you’re getting me a cake?”

Her parents smiled at each other. “Of course we are.”

For a second, Daniela felt her heart swell. They remembered.

“Double chocolate mousse,” she said with no hesitation. “Please.”

Her dad nodded and parked near a cake shop. Moments later, he came back holding a white box. On top of the cake, written in soft pink icing, were the words:

“Happy 22nd, Dani!”

It wasn’t fancy — just simple handwriting with a tiny heart at the end. But to her, it was heaven. She couldn’t wait to taste it.

When they returned to the hotel, Daniela wanted to ask her parents to take pictures with her — to commemorate the night, the hotel, the little cake. But when she came out of the bathroom, they were already fast asleep, tired from the long day.

She sighed quietly. There went their tradition — a yearly photo with her parents. This would be the first birthday without it.

Changing into her casual clothes, she removed her blouse, khaki slacks, and the heels she still wasn’t used to. She just wanted to lie down.

After a while, her parents woke up and began preparing the small celebration. They laid out her cake and the leftover food from the christening. They called her uncles, aunts, and cousins to come over to their big hotel room for a mini birthday gathering.

One by one, they came — smiling, carrying laughter and chatter with them. Soon the room was full. Her mom started recording on her phone as everyone sang Happy Birthday for her.

Daniela smiled brightly, unaware of the camera, trying to take in the warmth of the moment. For a short while, it almost felt perfect.

She blew the candles, everyone clapped, and the room filled with laughter again. But just as she sat down to eat her favorite cake, she heard one of her uncles say loudly,
“Chocolate? Really? That’s too sweet! You should avoid sugar, you know.”

The laughter died. The room went silent. Her parents defended her gently — “Oh, come on, it’s her birthday,” her dad said. But Daniela had already gone quiet.

Later, she got up to get another slice for herself — only to find the cake tray empty. Completely gone. While she had been handing out plates and food for everyone else, her own cake disappeared.

Her stomach sank. Happy freaking birthday, she thought bitterly.

Her mom noticed and offered her the half-eaten slice she couldn’t finish.
“Here, honey, I’m full.”

Dani forced a smile and accepted it. Three bites — that’s all she got from her own birthday cake.

Just then, the door opened. Manon came in, holding Quinny, with Lara and Caleb behind her. The room instantly buzzed with energy again — laughter, chatter, camera flashes.

Lara looked at the empty cake box and frowned. “Oh? There’s no cake?” she asked casually, clearly unaware of what had just happened.

That question lingered in Dani’s mind longer than it should have.
She didn’t even know why there was a cake in the first place.

After everyone finished eating, Dani quietly took it upon herself to clean up the plates. When she was done, she slipped out of the hotel room without anyone noticing.

Outside, the air was cooler, calmer. Behind the hotel, she found a quiet corner — a pool with a small bar beside it, dimly lit and almost empty. A restaurant glowed softly nearby. But what really caught her eye was farther in: a small park-like space.

Fairy lights hung from the trees, their golden glow swaying gently in the evening breeze. At the center stood a single wooden bench beneath what looked like a willow tree.

Without thinking, Dani walked there.
For once, it was silent. Just her, the hum of the night, and her thoughts.

She sat on the bench and exhaled deeply.

Then her phone rang.
Jonah.

For a moment, she hesitated. Then she answered.

“Hey,” Jonah’s voice came, soft but uneven. “Happy birthday.”

Daniela let out a faint, dry laugh. “Thanks,” she said. “You’re the last person I expected to call.”

“Yeah,” Jonah replied, a small sigh escaping him. “I know. I was actually... I wasn’t sure if I should.”

Daniela leaned back on the bench, gazing up at the tiny lights. “But you did,” she murmured. “So... what’s up?”

There was a long pause. The kind that filled the silence more heavily than words ever could. Jonah exhaled, the sound of it echoing through the line.
“Dani, I know this isn’t the right time,” he began, his voice cracking slightly. “But I can’t keep it any longer. It’s been... heavy. For both of us, I think.”

Daniela frowned. Her chest tightened. “What do you mean?” she asked quietly, though deep down she already knew.

“I just—” Jonah stopped, then forced the words out. “I think we should stop... whatever this is. You and me. I know it’s been dragging for months, and I hate that it’s been like that. You don’t deserve to be stuck in something that’s not moving anywhere.”

Her heart dropped, though she had prepared herself for this for so long. Still, hearing it on her birthday — her birthday — cut deeper than she imagined.
“Jonah,” she said, voice trembling but still steady enough, “you know you could’ve just waited until my birthday ended, right?”

There was a faint laugh from Jonah — tired, regretful. “I know. I really do. But... it didn’t feel right to keep pretending, even for a few more hours. You deserve honesty.”

“Honesty?” she repeated, bitterness slipping through. “Or convenience?”

He went silent. Then softly said, “Dani, I care about you. You know that. But caring isn’t enough anymore. I think we’ve both known that for a while.”

She swallowed hard. “Yeah,” she whispered. “We did.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice barely audible now. “I really hope you’ll have a good night, somehow.”

Daniela chuckled lightly, though it sounded broken. “You really know how to end someone’s birthday, Jonah.”

“I didn’t mean to ruin it,” he said, his tone pained. “I just... wanted to be honest before it got worse.”

“Then I guess you got what you wanted,” she said, her words soft but cutting. “Goodbye, Jonah.”

“Goodbye, Dani.”

And just like that, the call ended.

Daniela sat there for a long moment, the phone still in her hand, the fairy lights blurring through her tears. The hum of the poolside bar faded, replaced by the hollow sound of her own breathing.
She looked up again at the sky — black and wide — and let out a long sigh.

“Happy birthday to me,” she whispered, half-laughing, half-breaking.

Her voice cracked at the end. It echoed softly in the still night air. She looked up at the fairy lights dangling from the trees, blinking faintly against the breeze — like tiny fireflies that didn’t know when to stop glowing.

She tried to call one of her closest friends. One ring. Two rings. Voicemail.
Then another. No answer. Then another. Nothing.

Her hand trembled as she placed her phone on the bench beside her. “Figures,” she muttered, a bitter smile creeping at the corner of her lips.

And that was it. The dam broke. The tears came rushing — quiet at first, then all at once. Her shoulders trembled, the sobs coming out in little whimpers she tried to stifle with her hands.

She didn’t even know exactly why she was crying anymore. Maybe because she was tired. Maybe because everyone forgot. Maybe because Jonah ended things when she thought she’d gotten used to losing. Or maybe because… she just wanted someone to care — genuinely.

She covered her mouth, biting back another sob. “It’s just a birthday,” she whispered shakily. “It’s just a stupid birthday.”

And then — footsteps.

Slow, careful, approaching from behind. Daniela froze. She wiped her tears hurriedly with the back of her hand, sniffling. She didn’t want anyone seeing her like this.

The footsteps stopped for a moment. Then continued, this time softer, until someone appeared from the dimly lit path near the pool.

A girl.

She had fair skin that almost glowed under the fairy lights, long silky black hair that framed her face, and bangs that brushed against her brows. She wore loose jeans, a white blouse tucked in neatly, and a black coat that swayed slightly as she walked. There was something effortlessly calm about her — like she belonged to this peaceful night, like the chaos of the world didn’t quite reach her.

Daniela couldn’t help but stare for a few seconds.

The girl seemed to notice. Her eyes flicked toward Daniela — soft, curious, but not judging. Daniela quickly looked away, pretending to fiddle with her phone.

Then, to her quiet panic, the girl walked closer.

She didn’t say anything at first. She just sat down on the same bench, leaving a respectful gap between them.

The silence stretched, but it wasn’t awkward. The faint sound of jazz from the pool bar drifted through the air. Somewhere in the distance, water trickled from a small fountain.

Then, in a calm and melodic voice, the girl spoke.
“Rough night?”

Daniela blinked, startled. “That obvious?”

The girl smiled slightly. “You could say your eyes gave you away.”

Daniela gave a weak laugh. “Guess I should’ve brought sunglasses.”

The girl turned slightly toward her, still wearing that serene expression. “Or maybe it’s okay to be seen. People cry. It’s kind of… part of being alive.”

Daniela let out a small breath, amused. “Are you a poet or something?”

“Depends on who’s asking,” the girl said, smiling.

That made Daniela laugh, just a little — the first real one of the day. “You’re weird.”

“I’ve been called worse,” the girl replied playfully. “I’m Sophia, by the way.”

“Daniela,” she said, offering her hand shyly.

Sophia shook it, her touch gentle, warm. “Nice to meet you, Daniela.”

“You too,” Daniela said softly, eyes dropping to their hands before pulling away. “Sorry you had to meet me like this. I’m not exactly in my best form.”

Sophia tilted her head, studying her for a moment. “You look fine to me. Just… a little sad.”

“Yeah,” Daniela admitted with a dry chuckle. “Birthday blues, I guess.”

Sophia’s brows lifted. “Birthday? Tonight?”

“Yep. Twenty-two. The grand age of crying beside a pool.”

Sophia smiled faintly. “Well, happy birthday, then.”

Daniela snorted. “Thanks. You’re officially the only person who said it without being related to me or pitying me.”

“I’ll take that as an honor,” Sophia said lightly, turning her gaze to the fairy lights. “Still, you don’t deserve to cry on your birthday.”

Daniela looked at her, the corners of her mouth twitching. “You talk like you’ve never cried on yours.”

Sophia glanced at her, eyes soft and knowing. “Maybe that’s why I’m here.”

Daniela blinked. “Here?”

Sophia shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I just… ended up in the right place tonight.”

Something in her tone — gentle, almost fated — made Daniela’s heart tighten a little. She didn’t know this girl. But somehow, her presence felt like a breath of fresh air after a long, suffocating day.

And for the first time that night, Daniela didn’t feel completely alone.

Sophia waited a few beats before speaking again. “So… birthday blues, huh? What happened?”

Daniela hesitated, glancing at her. The question wasn’t prying — it was open, kind. The kind of question people ask when they actually want to listen.

So she told her.

In halting words at first, then faster as the dam began to crack. About the christening earlier that day — the laughter that didn’t feel like hers, the smiles that didn’t reach her, how she kept fading into the background. How everyone forgot it was her birthday until someone blurted it out over dinner. How her cousin Vince tried to cheer her up, but even that moment slipped away when everyone rushed for photos she wasn’t in. How Jonah — her ex situationship — “techinically ”broke up with her before the night even ended.

Her voice trembled somewhere between shame and exhaustion. “It’s so stupid, right? Getting sad over this. I know it’s not about me — it’s Quinny’s day, not mine. But I just—” She stopped, pressing her palms against her knees. “I just wanted someone to remember. Just once.”

Sophia listened silently. No interruptions, no unnecessary pity — just quiet understanding. When Daniela finally exhaled, a shaky sound escaped her throat.

Sophia said softly, “That’s not stupid. You wanted to feel seen. Everyone does.”

Daniela looked at her, eyes glassy. “It just sucks, you know? When it’s supposed to be your day, and you end up feeling like a ghost at your own party.”

Sophia’s lips curved into a sympathetic smile. “I get that. I really do.”

She leaned back, gaze drifting up toward the hotel balconies. “You know, I actually came here tonight for something awful too.”

Daniela blinked, surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Sophia said, laughing under her breath. “My best friend Megan found out her boyfriend was cheating on her. Caught him here — same hotel, different floor. I was the getaway driver and emotional support system all in one.”

Daniela stared, stunned. “Wait, seriously?”

Sophia nodded. “Dead serious. Megan’s probably at home right now threatening to set his PlayStation on fire. I stuck around after she left because… I don’t know. I needed to breathe.”

Daniela blinked, then laughed — a short, genuine burst that escaped before she could stop it. “That’s insane.”

Sophia grinned. “Tell me about it. I was hiding in the stairwell for ten minutes while she screamed at him. I thought hotel security was going to show up.”

Daniela covered her face, laughing harder now — an unfiltered, beautiful sound that even surprised her. “You’re kidding!”

“Wish I was.” Sophia chuckled, leaning forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “But hey, it got me here. Sitting beside a crying birthday girl who apparently needed a reminder that tonight doesn’t have to end miserable.”

Daniela wiped at her eyes, still giggling. “You’re something else.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Sophia said, flashing a grin. Then, after a pause, her tone softened. “You know what I think? You deserve a second chance at this day.”

Daniela blinked. “A second chance?”

Sophia nodded firmly. “Yeah. Just because it started awful doesn’t mean it has to end that way. Come on. Let’s go somewhere. Movies, maybe?”

Daniela stared at her like she’d grown two heads. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“Completely,” Sophia said with a teasing smirk. “You’re twenty-two. You only get to celebrate that once. Don’t waste it crying beside a pool.”

Daniela half-laughed, half-protested. “I’m literally in my 'somewhat' pj's. I look like I’ve been hit by a thunderstorm.”

Sophia replied with playful certainty,“Well, wear what you wore earlier — the blouse, khaki slacks, those heels. You look like the main character of your own movie. You just forgot it for a bit.”

Daniela stared at her, caught between disbelief and amusement. “You’re insane.”

Sophia stood, brushing invisible dust from her jeans. “Maybe. But you need someone insane enough to remind you that you’re allowed to start over — even at 8 p.m. on your birthday.”

Daniela laughed again, the ache in her chest easing for the first time all day. “You’re actually serious about this?”

Sophia smiled, eyes bright beneath the fairy lights. “Dead serious.”

Daniela shook her head, still smiling. “Okay, fine. Wait for me at the lobby. I’ll just change and maybe fix my makeup a little.”

Sophia gave a small salute. “Got it. I’ll be there.”

Daniela nodded before turning toward the hotel entrance, her heels softly clicking against the tiled path. She felt strangely light — not happy, but lighter. Like the heaviness that had been clinging to her chest all day had loosened just enough for her to breathe again.

When she entered the hotel lobby, the golden light from the chandeliers brushed her face, and for the first time tonight, she didn’t mind her reflection in the glass doors. Maybe it was the idea of the movie, or maybe it was Sophia’s unexpected warmth — whatever it was, it made her feel seen.

As she stepped into the elevator, her phone buzzed, but she ignored it. For once, she didn’t want to think. She just wanted to move.

Back in the hotel room, her parents immediately turned to her — faces etched with worry.

“Where have you been?” her mom asked, standing from the edge of the bed. Her dad looked up from his phone, concern lining his forehead.

Daniela froze for a moment before replying softly, “I just went out for a walk. I needed some air.”

Her mom sighed, clearly relieved. “You should’ve told us. We got worried.”

“I’m sorry,” Daniela said quickly. “I didn’t mean to. I just… needed a little time.”

Her dad studied her expression, then asked gently, “Are you okay?”

She hesitated, then smiled faintly. “I am now.”

Her mom tilted her head. “Where are you going? You’re changing again?”

Daniela opened her bag and pulled out her blouse — the same one she’d worn earlier at the christening — and her pressed khaki slacks. “Yeah. I’m going to watch a movie.”

Both of her parents blinked. “A movie? At this hour?” her dad asked.

Daniela nodded, grabbing her compact mirror and lip tint. “At the mall in front of the hotel.”

Her mom crossed her arms, though her tone softened. “With who?”

Daniela paused, lipstick halfway to her lips. “A friend.”

Her mom’s brows lifted. “Who?”

Daniela turned toward them, a shy smile tugging at her lips. “A new friend. Sophia.”

Her parents exchanged quick glances — half curious, half surprised — but neither said anything more. Her dad finally smiled. “Alright. Just be careful, okay? Text us when you get there.”

“I will,” Daniela promised, adjusting her blouse and brushing her hair back into place. She slipped into her heels, checked herself once in the mirror — not too dolled up, just… her — and grabbed her small sling bag.

As she was about to leave, her mom called out softly, “Enjoy your movie.”

Daniela turned to them, her heart tugging at the simple words. “I will,” she said, smiling for real this time.

And with that, she stepped out of the room and into the elevator once more — her reflection in the mirror catching her off guard. She looked the same, but something in her eyes had shifted.

At the lobby, Sophia was waiting by one of the couches, her phone in hand and a faint smile playing on her lips when she saw Daniela approaching.

“You weren’t kidding,” Sophia said, standing up, eyes glinting with amusement. “You actually changed.”

Daniela rolled her eyes but grinned. “You told me to. You said it — you only turn twenty-two once.”

Sophia’s smile softened, eyes lingering on her a moment longer. “Well, you look beautiful, birthday girl.”

Daniela felt heat rise to her cheeks, but she brushed it off with a chuckle. “Alright, poet. Let’s go before I change my mind.”

Sophia grinned, the corner of her mouth quirking up in that calm, confident way. “Then we’d better hurry before you do.”

They walked side by side through the revolving doors, the hotel lobby’s golden light giving way to the cooler air outside. The night breeze brushed against their skin, carrying the faint hum of city life — cars passing, laughter echoing from the nearby bar, and the soft rustle of trees lining the street.

Daniela adjusted her sling bag on her shoulder, glancing briefly at Sophia walking beside her. The streetlights caught the sheen of Sophia’s hair, highlighting strands of soft black that framed her face perfectly.

“So,” Sophia began, hands tucked casually into her coat pockets, “where are you from, birthday girl?”

Daniela looked up briefly, smiling. “Cuban-Venezuelan, technically. But I’ve lived in Atlanta since I was a baby. So… I guess that makes me just American by default.”

Sophia’s eyes softened. “That’s pretty cool, though. You’ve got that mix of warmth in you.”

Daniela tilted her head, amused. “Warmth?”

Sophia chuckled. “Yeah. You’ve got this… sunny energy. Like, you walk into a room and people just feel it.”

Daniela laughed lightly. “You make it sound like I’m solar-powered.”

“Maybe you are,” Sophia teased. “Makes sense. You dance, right?”

Daniela blinked. “How did you—?”

“You just move like it,” Sophia said easily. “Even when you walk. There’s this… rhythm.”

The comment made Daniela’s heart skip, warmth blooming in her chest. “I’m majoring in dance, yeah. College back in L.A.”

Sophia smiled. “Knew it.”

“What about you?” Daniela asked, trying to steady her voice.

“Manila, Philippines,” Sophia said after a short pause. “Born and raised. My family’s business brought us here for the week, but I study in L.A.”

Daniela glanced at her, curiosity lighting her features. “Wait. Really? What do you study?”

“Theatre,” Sophia answered, eyes brightening. “I’m obsessed with Broadway. Scripts, acting, music — the whole thing. I think performing is the one place where I actually make sense.”

“That’s beautiful,” Daniela murmured, and she meant it.

For a while, they just walked, their steps syncing unconsciously. Their fingers brushed once — a brief, electric contact that neither acknowledged, but both felt. The world seemed quieter around them, the city hum fading to the rhythm of their shared footsteps.

Sophia stole a glance at her. Under the streetlight, Daniela’s skin seemed to glow — that warm bronze tone, her lashes casting shadows when she blinked, the small smile that lingered even when she wasn’t talking. There was something magnetic about her — the kind of beauty that wasn’t loud but impossible to ignore.

And then Daniela looked back — catching Sophia’s gaze for a split second too long. She noticed the soft curve of Sophia’s lips, the way her dark hair framed her face, how her eyes — brown but glinting gold under the light — carried both calm and mischief.

Sophia smiled when she was caught looking. Daniela did too, pretending to fix her blouse, heart fluttering for reasons she couldn’t name.

When they reached the corner, the pedestrian light turned red, and they stopped. The cars whirred past in streaks of color, the air thick with the smell of rain and exhaust.

Sophia’s hand moved instinctively — fingers brushing, then wrapping around Daniela’s wrist as the light switched.

“Come on,” she said softly.

Daniela followed, pulse thrumming where Sophia’s skin met hers. The warmth of her touch stayed even after they reached the other side, long after Sophia let go.

Sophia looked ahead, pretending she hadn’t noticed. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

Daniela’s lips curved into a small smile. “You always hold people’s wrists when crossing the road?”

Sophia glanced at her, grinning. “Only when they’re worth keeping safe.”

Daniela huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Maybe,” Sophia said, eyes twinkling. “But it worked, didn’t it?”

Daniela’s laugh melted into a quieter smile. “Yeah. It did.”

As they continued walking toward the mall, the distance between them stayed close — not too near, not too far — like two stories beginning to overlap, one step at a time.

When they reached the mall, the cold air-conditioning greeted them like a soft wave, carrying with it the scent of coffee and buttered popcorn. The place was still lively — groups of friends chatting, couples holding hands, families trailing along with shopping bags.

They hurried to the ticket booth, their footsteps echoing against the polished floor.

Sophia turned to her, already reaching for her wallet. “I’ll buy the tickets.”

Daniela immediately shook her head. “No way. It’s my birthday. Let me at least do that much.”

Sophia raised an eyebrow, playful. “Birthday girl privileges are supposed to mean you don’t pay.”

“Then consider it my birthday wish,” Daniela countered, crossing her arms with a smirk. “You already helped me too much tonight. This is the least I can do.”

Sophia looked at her for a moment, then sighed in mock defeat. “Fine. But I’m paying for the snacks.”

Daniela opened her mouth to protest, but Sophia lifted a finger. “Non-negotiable.”

That made Daniela laugh. “Alright, deal. But nothing too crazy.”

Sophia grinned. “Popcorn. Sour cream and cheese. And two Cokes. Simple.”

“Fine,” Daniela said, smiling. “That sounds perfect.”

At the counter, Sophia leaned slightly closer. “You pick the movie, then.”

Daniela scanned the digital board above the booth, humming. “Hmm… what about We Live in Time? It’s a love drama.”

Sophia turned her head, pretending to think. “A love drama on your sad birthday?”

Daniela shrugged. “Might as well commit to the mood.”

That made Sophia laugh, the sound light and infectious. “Alright. We Live in Time it is.”

Inside the theater, the lights dimmed to a dusky glow. The faint murmur of people finding their seats faded as the screen flickered to life. Sophia balanced the popcorn between them while Daniela sipped her Coke, the straw crackling softly in the quiet.

They sat close — elbows almost brushing on the shared armrest. For a moment, neither spoke. The opening music swelled, and soft light danced across their faces.

Ten minutes in, the movie’s couple exchanged their first dramatic stare under the rain. Daniela leaned toward Sophia and whispered, “They met five minutes ago. How are they already soulmates?”

Sophia covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. “It’s cinematic destiny,” she whispered back dramatically.

Daniela bit her lip, giggling quietly. “Cinematic nonsense, you mean.”

Sophia stifled another laugh, shaking her head. The popcorn nearly fell off her lap as she whispered, “You’re ruining the romance.”

“I’m improving it,” Daniela teased, eyes sparkling.

They shared a grin — one of those small, unguarded ones that made everything else fade.

A few scenes later, as the characters danced barefoot in a field of flowers, Sophia leaned close again. “Okay, I’ll admit it. This part’s kind of pretty.”

Daniela smiled softly. “Told you.”

Their voices dropped to a murmur — quiet, gentle — as if the rest of the theater had disappeared.

At one point, Sophia offered the popcorn, and their fingers brushed again. This time, neither pulled away. Daniela’s pulse quickened, but she pretended to focus on the screen. Sophia felt it too — that quiet, suspended awareness that made the simple act of sharing popcorn feel intimate.

Then, a particularly sappy line echoed from the screen: “Love isn’t about timing. It’s about choosing to stay, even when it hurts.”

Sophia made a small face, whispering, “That’s so cheesy.”

Daniela snorted. “You’re eating cheese-flavored popcorn. You have no right to judge.”

Sophia tried not to laugh, but a giggle escaped anyway. “Touché.”

They fell into a comfortable silence again — a peaceful one this time.

As the story reached its soft, melancholic ending, Sophia leaned back in her seat, her gaze turning toward Daniela instead of the screen. The dim light flickered across Daniela’s profile — her lashes, her faint smile, the way her chest rose and fell with slow breaths.

Something about the quietness between them felt… easy. Like they had known each other far longer than a few hours.

Sophia looked away before she was caught staring, but Daniela had already noticed — and smiled faintly to herself.

When the credits rolled, neither of them moved right away. The music played over the screen, and for the first time that night, Daniela felt at peace — not because the movie was good, but because she wasn’t alone in that dark, quiet room.

Sophia turned to her and said softly, “Happy birthday, Daniela.”

Daniela met her gaze, warmth blooming in her chest. “Thanks… for tonight.”

Sophia smiled, her voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t mention it. You just needed someone to remind you that twenty-two isn’t so bad.”

Daniela chuckled. “Maybe you’re right.”

Sophia leaned slightly closer, eyes gleaming. “I usually am.”

Daniela rolled her eyes with a grin. “You’re insufferable.”

“Admit it,” Sophia teased. “You like that.”

Daniela didn’t answer — just smiled, heart fluttering again as they stood to leave.

Outside the theater, the world seemed softer somehow — like the night had forgiven her for how it started.

Sophia picked up the empty cups and popcorn bag, neatly tossing them into the trash bin before taking the eco bag she had brought. “Someone has to clean up after us,” she said lightly, earning a fond grin from Daniela.

They exited the mall, stepping back into the cool night air. The streets shimmered under the glow of passing headlights and the faint hum of city life. Side by side, they walked toward the hotel — not rushing, just letting their steps fall into rhythm with each other.

Every now and then, Sophia’s sleeve brushed Daniela’s arm, sending small, unspoken sparks up her skin. Neither said much at first; the silence between them was comfortable, filled with the quiet aftermath of laughter and warmth.

As they reached the pedestrian lane, the light turned red, halting a few cars in front of them. When it flicked to green for pedestrians, they started walking, side by side, still laughing softly about the movie’s cheesiest moments.

But just as they stepped past the midpoint of the road — headlights flashed.

A car swerved sharply from the next lane, engine roaring, its horn blaring too late.

In a flash, Daniela’s instincts kicked in. She grabbed Sophia’s coat from behind, pulling her backward with force, one arm wrapping tightly around her waist as the car sped past — the gust of wind brushing their faces.

“Jesus—” Daniela hissed, eyes snapping toward the car’s taillights disappearing into the night. Her heart pounded hard against her ribs.

When she turned back, Sophia was already staring at her.

That’s when Daniela realized just how close they were — Sophia’s body pressed against hers, Daniela’s arm still firm around her waist. Their faces were inches apart, breaths mingling.

Daniela could see everything — the faint shimmer of lip gloss on Sophia’s mouth, the gentle rise of her chest as she breathed, the way her lashes trembled slightly from the adrenaline.

Sophia’s gaze flicked upward, landing on the small birthmark just above Daniela’s eyebrow — soft, endearing, real. Her hand, still clutching the eco bag, hovered near Daniela’s arm, fingers unconsciously tightening, as if grounding herself.

For a long second, time slowed. The city noise dimmed. It was just them — eyes locked, breaths quick but synced.

Sophia blinked, breaking into a breathless laugh, her cheeks flushed. “That was—”

“Insane,” Daniela finished, still catching her breath.

Sophia grinned, her laughter bubbling through the cool night. “You literally just saved my life, birthday girl.”

Daniela shook her head, trying to hide her fluster. “You’re welcome. Maybe next time, look both ways before falling into traffic.”

Then a burst of green light from the traffic signal washed over them — the cars revving again.

Sophia giggled and took Daniela’s hand suddenly, tugging her forward. “Come on! Before we actually die out here!”

They ran the rest of the way across, laughing uncontrollably as the cars started moving behind them. Their joined hands swung between them as they reached the other side, still breathless, hearts racing from both fear and something else entirely.

When they finally stopped, catching their breath by the curb, Sophia leaned on her knees and looked up at Daniela with a grin. “That was… the most chaotic walk home ever.”

Daniela laughed, brushing a stray hair from her face. “And somehow, still the best part of my birthday.”

Sophia looked at her for a beat — eyes soft, smile gentle. “Then I’d call that a win.”

They continued walking, this time slower, as the grand silhouette of the hotel came into view. The glass doors glimmered under the golden lobby lights, their reflections faintly overlapping as they stepped inside.

The lobby was nearly empty — silent except for the faint hum of air conditioning and the quiet jazz tune drifting from unseen speakers. Grand arches framed the space, their gold accents glinting softly. The walls were a deep wine red, elegant and warm against the cream marble floors. Plush carpets spread beneath their feet, muting their steps.

At the center hung a massive oil painting — something classic and regal, a woman in white gazing into the distance. To the right stood a sleek piano topped with a brass lamp, casting soft amber light on its polished surface. Sofas and armchairs lined the corners like patient witnesses to countless stories.

“Wow,” Sophia murmured, spinning slowly to take it all in. “This looks like something out of a movie.”

Daniela smiled, watching her twirl slightly in awe. “You sure you’re not the one studying film instead of theatre?”

Sophia shot her a playful look. “Hey, we stage people know good set design when we see one.”

Daniela chuckled, the sound echoing softly in the vast room.

Then Sophia stopped, eyes landing on her. “Wait—” She squinted slightly, then brightened. “You look too good not to take a picture right now.”

Daniela blinked, caught off guard. “Me?”

“Yes, you. Birthday girl under cinematic lighting? It’s basically illegal not to take one.”

Daniela laughed, cheeks warming. “I don’t even know how to pose.”

“Good,” Sophia grinned, already pulling out her phone. “Natural is better.”

Sophia motioned for her to stand near the piano, where the lamp’s glow wrapped around her like soft gold. Daniela did as told, smoothing her khaki slacks and fixing her blouse, a little awkward but endearing.

“Okay, tilt your head a bit—yes, that’s it,” Sophia said, crouching slightly to find the perfect angle. “Now, look over there—pretend you’re in a perfume ad.”

Daniela snorted, bursting into laughter. “Sophia!”

“Perfect!” Sophia laughed too, snapping the photo mid-laugh. “That’s the one. Real smiles only.”

Daniela posed again, this time more confident. She leaned on the piano for one shot, then clasped her hands for another, each frame catching a different warmth in her.

After a few takes, Daniela grinned. “Let me see!”

Sophia showed her the photos — Daniela’s smile softened as she scrolled through them. She looked radiant, alive, happy. “These are… actually beautiful,” she murmured.

“Told you,” Sophia said proudly, then added with mock seriousness, “You’re welcome. I charge a minimal fee of coffee or eternal friendship.”

Daniela rolled her eyes, laughing. “Deal.”

Then, after a moment of hesitation, she said, “Wait—take one with me.”

Sophia blinked. “With you?”

“Yes. Please. You kind of saved my day. You deserve to be in the memory too.”

For a second, Sophia looked touched — then she smiled. “Alright, alright.”

They stood side by side, faces close as Daniela held the phone out for a selfie. “Ready?”

“Wait,” Sophia said, adjusting Daniela’s hair with gentle fingers. “There. Now it’s perfect.”

Daniela froze for a heartbeat — the brush of Sophia’s hand against her cheek felt unexpectedly intimate. Then Sophia grinned at the camera.

“Okay, now smile like you didn’t almost die crossing the street.”

Daniela burst into laughter again, and the camera clicked just as she did — their faces glowing under the lamp, eyes crinkled with laughter.

Another click. Another burst of giggles.

Then Sophia whispered, “Okay, one more. Serious this time.”

They faced the camera, smiles fading into something softer — quiet, knowing. The air between them stilled, charged with something gentle but unspoken.

Click.

The picture captured it perfectly — the kind of stillness that said more than words ever could.

Afterward, they both looked at the photo, neither saying anything for a moment.

Sophia was the first to speak, her voice low but warm. “You look happy there.”

Daniela smiled faintly. “Maybe because I am.”

Sophia looked at her then — really looked — as if memorizing that exact moment. Then she nodded slowly. “Good. You deserve that.”

Finally, Daniela broke the quiet with a grin. “So… do I get a copy of that masterpiece or do I have to beg?”

Sophia laughed, already sending it to her. “You earned it.”

Daniela smiled at her phone. “Then I’ll call it The Night a Beautiful Stranger Saved My 22nd Birthday.”

Sophia groaned, half-laughing. “You’re ridiculous.”

Sophia’s laughter joined hers, echoing softly through the grand, empty lobby — a sound so full of life it made the night itself seem warmer.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was the kind that felt earned — like the calm after fireworks, when the world finally remembers to breathe again. The soft hum of the chandelier lights above, the faint piano tune from the bar, the hush of the marble floors beneath their shoes… everything seemed to settle around them.

Daniela looked at Sophia, her grin slowly softening. “You tired?”

Sophia tilted her head, curious. “Why?”

Daniela shrugged, a small, playful smile tugging her lips. “Thought maybe you’d want to try the pool with me.”

Sophia blinked — then grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

They walked side by side toward the pool deck, the glass doors opening to a soft rush of night air scented with chlorine and faint jasmine from the garden nearby. There were only a few people left — a couple in the far end of the pool, another pair laughing quietly at the bar. The water glowed turquoise beneath the warm string lights, rippling like liquid glass.

They found two loungers near the pool’s edge. The cushions were cool, the night air tender.

Sophia sat, glancing at the water. “You realize we don’t have swimsuits, right?”

Daniela smirked, already unbuttoning her blouse. “Then we improvise.”

Sophia’s eyes widened. “I—what?”

Daniela laughed at her expression. “Relax! I just meant stripping down to what we already have underneath.” She tossed her blouse on the lounger and stood up, confidence flickering through her movements. “You don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable.”

Sophia blinked, cheeks warming despite the breeze. “No, it’s not that. It’s just… I wasn’t expecting that from you.”

Daniela chuckled, walking toward the lifeguard stand to grab two towels. “Surprise, then.”

Sophia shook her head, grinning helplessly. “Unbelievable.”

When Daniela returned, she placed one towel on Sophia’s lounger and slipped off her slacks and heels, standing there in her black bra and matching underwear. The soft pool light made her skin shimmer faintly. Without hesitation, she dove in, breaking the water with a clean, smooth splash.

Sophia blinked — partly startled, partly impressed. “Okay. Wow.”

Daniela surfaced, slicking her hair back with a grin. “You’re up, Broadway girl.”

Sophia rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. She stood, grabbing the edge of her oversized white blouse. “Fine. But if I catch a cold, you’re buying me soup.”

Daniela raised an eyebrow. “Deal.”

Sophia slipped off her blouse and pants, revealing a purple bra and white underwear. She didn’t seem to notice Daniela’s gaze faltering — caught somewhere between admiration and disbelief — as she carefully stepped into the pool, the water catching the pale sheen of her skin.

When she reached Daniela, she exhaled softly. “Okay. It’s cold.”

Daniela smiled. “You’ll warm up.”

Sophia playfully splashed her in the face. “That’s your idea of warming up?”

Daniela gasped. “Oh, you’re dead!”

In seconds, the pool was alive with their laughter — two women in a quiet corner of the night, splashing, giggling, stealing joy from the water and the moment itself. A few heads turned their way, smiling, but they didn’t care.

When the laughter finally subsided, they drifted to the pool’s edge, arms resting on the tiles, shoulders barely brushing. The faint sound of soft jazz played from the bar speakers, and the moon hung low over the water like it was watching them.

Daniela exhaled. “You know, I almost didn’t want today to happen.”

Sophia glanced at her. “Because?”

“I thought it’d just be another lonely birthday,” she said, voice quieter now. “But somehow, here I am, laughing like an idiot at midnight with a girl who practically forced me to watch a movie.”

Sophia smiled, eyes glowing under the pool lights. “A girl who made your night better, you mean.”

Daniela laughed under her breath. “Yeah. That.”

For a moment, they both stared at the reflections shimmering on the surface, soft blues and silvers dancing between them. Then Sophia turned to her, her tone suddenly lighter. “Can you float?”

Daniela frowned. “Float? As in… float float?”

Sophia nodded, lips curving into a mischievous grin. “You don’t know how, do you?”

Daniela groaned. “I’m a dancer, not a fish.”

Sophia laughed, then waded closer until the water reached her shoulders. “Okay, then. Lesson one.”

“Lesson?”

“Yup. I’m your instructor now.”

Daniela tried to glare but was already smiling. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Maybe,” Sophia teased. “Now, arms out. Head back. Trust the water.”

Daniela hesitated. “Easy for you to say when you’re not about to drown.”

Sophia moved behind her, hands gentle on Daniela’s back and under her arms. “I’ve got you,” she said softly.

The words — quiet but sure — settled something deep in Daniela’s chest. Slowly, she let herself lean back, her body surrendering to the water. Sophia’s hands steadied her, fingers light but certain.

Daniela’s body grew lighter, her breath steadying as she realized she wasn’t sinking.
Her laughter burst out in disbelief. “I’m doing it! I’m actually floating!”

Sophia smiled, drifting closer until she floated beside her, arms stretched out like wings, eyes half-closed. The water shimmered between them, tracing silver ripples around their faces.

“See?” Sophia murmured, voice soft as the rippling surface. “Told you the water would hold you.”

Daniela turned her head slightly, still floating. “Maybe you were right.”

Sophia smirked, eyes still closed. “Maybe?”

Daniela chuckled, her voice echoing softly in the stillness. “Fine. You were right.”

Sophia opened one eye, pretending to think. “I like the sound of that.”

Daniela laughed, and the two of them stayed that way — side by side, floating under the pale wash of moonlight, as if gravity itself had decided to give them a break.

After a while, Sophia straightened, brushing water from her face, still smiling.
“You make a good teacher,” Daniela said, standing up too, water gliding down her arms.

Sophia shrugged, eyes twinkling. “You make a good student.”

Daniela’s laugh came out softer this time, almost shy. “Maybe I just had the right instructor.”

Sophia turned her head slightly, watching the way the reflection danced across Daniela’s face — the light bending over her cheekbones, the faint curve of her lips, the stray strands of wet hair framing her eyes.

Daniela caught her staring. “What?” she asked, smiling.

Sophia shook her head slowly, still looking. “Nothing. Just… you look happy.”

Daniela blinked, caught off guard. Her voice softened. “You make it easy.”

The words lingered between them, like the hush that comes before the next song. Tender. Weightless. True.

Sophia didn’t reply right away. She just smiled — small, knowing — and gently bumped her shoulder against Daniela’s. They both looked up at the moonlight floating on the surface of the pool, afraid that moving too much might make the moment disappear.

And then, as if the universe wanted to seal it, that song began to play through the speakers.

The opening notes of “Lover, You Should’ve Come Over” by Jeff Buckley drifted through the air, slow and aching, wrapping the night in velvet melancholy. Daniela froze. Her heart skipped — of all songs, this one?

It was her favorite.

She didn’t even realize she’d gone still until she heard another sound — soft, hushed, almost too gentle for words.

Sophia was singing.

Her eyes were closed, her voice low and rich, carrying each lyric with a sweetness that curled around Daniela’s ribs and settled there.
It wasn’t loud or performative — just raw, unguarded, beautiful.

Daniela could only watch, her pulse echoing with the melody.
The way Sophia’s lips moved with the words, how her hair caught the glow of the pool lights, how her voice melted into the night — it was something Daniela knew she’d never forget.

When Sophia finally opened her eyes, she found Daniela watching her. For a heartbeat, neither of them spoke.

Sophia smiled then, soft and glowing under the moonlight. The reflection of the water danced over her skin, like liquid stars.

Daniela smiled back — slow, dazed — as if her heart had forgotten how to do anything else.

Sophia exhaled and climbed out of the pool, the water cascading down her shoulders in quiet streams. Daniela followed, both of them wrapping towels around themselves, hair dripping, laughter barely contained.

“I’ll grab us some water,” Sophia said, her voice still a little breathless, still melodic from the song.

Daniela nodded, unable to stop smiling. “Okay.”

And as Sophia walked toward the bar, the hem of her towel brushing against her knees, Daniela stood there by the pool — heart fluttering, chest light — thinking how impossibly strange and beautiful it was that this night, her birthday of all nights, had turned into this.

A song, a stranger, a laugh, a hand that felt like home.

She looked up at the moon one last time and whispered to herself — half in disbelief, half in wonder —
“Happy birthday to me.”

Sophia came back from the bar carrying two glasses of water, her hair slightly tousled from the walk, a soft hum escaping her lips. Daniela was still sitting on the lounger, tracing invisible patterns on her lap, the faint remnants of laughter still dancing in her chest.

“Hydrate, birthday girl,” Sophia said, handing her one glass with a teasing grin.

Daniela chuckled, taking it. “You really didn’t have to.”

“Oh, but I did,” Sophia replied, sitting down beside her. “You did a lot of laughing tonight. That burns calories.”

Daniela laughed again, shaking her head. “Thank you, Sophia. Really. For everything.”

Sophia’s expression softened, eyes gleaming beneath the warm lamplight. “No, Dani… thank you. For tonight. For letting me be part of it. It’s… one of those nights I know I’ll remember.”

Daniela tilted her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You sound like you’re giving a speech.”

“Good,” Sophia said playfully. “I prepared it while we were at the theatre.”

Daniela laughed — loud and genuine — and Sophia’s grin widened, before she reached for the eco bag sitting beside her.

“Speaking of being memorable,” she said, rummaging through it, “I have something for you.”

“Sophia—” Daniela protested softly, “you didn’t have to get me anything—”

Sophia ignored her, pulling out a small white box tied with a simple ribbon. “Open it.”

Daniela hesitated, her fingers hovering over the lid. “Sophia…”

“Open it,” Sophia insisted, voice gentle but sure.

Daniela sighed, smiling as she finally lifted the lid — and froze. Inside was a tiny, delicate double chocolate mousse cake, topped with a single swirl of cream and a chocolate curl. Her throat tightened.

Her eyes glossed over as she whispered, “Sophia…”

But before she could say more, Sophia’s face fell a little, mistaking her silence. “Oh, I—uh, I wasn’t sure if you liked chocolate. If you don’t, it’s okay. I can just—”

She didn’t finish — because Daniela suddenly threw her arms around her neck.

Sophia blinked, startled for half a second before her arms instinctively wrapped around Daniela’s waist, holding her tight. Daniela’s laugh came out shaky and wet against her shoulder.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “I only got three bites of my cake earlier before everyone devoured it.”

Sophia pulled back slightly, frowning playfully. “Only three?”

Daniela nodded, still sniffling, still smiling.

“Then you definitely deserve this one,” Sophia said softly. Her thumb brushed away a tear trailing down Daniela’s cheek. “I just… hoped you’d like the flavor. It was the only one left at the mall.”

Daniela blinked, realization dawning. “That’s why you were gone so long at the ticket booth earlier!”

Sophia laughed, scratching the back of her neck. “Guilty.”

Daniela shook her head, still laughing, still amazed. “Well, you’re lucky, because it’s actually my favorite flavor.”

Sophia’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

Daniela nodded, grinning. “Seriously.”

Sophia leaned back, exhaling in relief. “Wow. Then I guess the universe really wanted you to have this one.”

Her gaze drifted toward the phone she’d left on the lounge table. The screen glowed faintly: 11:55 PM.

Five minutes left.

Without saying a word, Sophia reached into the eco bag again — and this time pulled out a small lighter and a single candle.

Daniela blinked in surprise. “You brought a—?”

“Don’t question the magic,” Sophia interrupted, sticking the candle carefully into the cake and lighting it. The tiny flame flickered between them, casting soft golden light over Daniela’s face.

Sophia smiled — that quiet, knowing kind of smile that said I see you. She held the cake up gently toward her.

“Go on,” she said. “Make a wish, birthday girl.”

Daniela stared at her for a long moment — at the soft glow in Sophia’s eyes, at the cake that somehow meant more than all the noise and gifts from earlier. The world around them was still — no music, no chatter, just the faint hum of the lobby lights and the sound of their breathing.

She smiled, closing her eyes.

The flame flickered once, then went out.

And in that dim, quiet space, it felt like time itself had paused — just for them.

Then, a soft click.

Daniela blinked her eyes open to see Sophia lowering her phone, grinning. “Sorry,” Sophia said, sheepishly. “Had to immortalize that moment. You looked so serious making your wish.”

Daniela laughed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You really took a picture?”

“Of course,” Sophia said proudly. “It’s not every day I get to see you make a wish like it’s a life mission.”

Daniela giggled. “Then you have to join me in one.”

“What?”

“Come on,” Daniela said, patting the space beside her. “I want to remember this. Us. This night.”

Sophia hesitated for a second, but then smiled softly and sat beside her. Daniela lifted her phone, leaned in close, and the two of them smiled at the camera — faces pressed together, eyes bright, laughter barely contained.

“Smile,” Daniela whispered.

“I already am,” Sophia replied softly.

Click.

When Daniela lowered the phone, she looked at Sophia with the gentlest smile. “Thank you again. For this. For everything.”

Sophia shrugged lightly, trying to hide her warmth behind playfulness. “You can thank me by eating that cake before it melts.”

Daniela laughed and picked up the small fork. She took a bite — soft mousse and rich chocolate melting on her tongue. “Oh my god,” she mumbled, mouth full, “this is heaven.”

“Good?” Sophia asked, amused.

Daniela nodded eagerly. “Too good. Which is why—” She broke a piece and held it out. “—we’re sharing.”

Sophia blinked. “No, it’s yours.”

Daniela shook her head. “Nope. You bought it, you eat it. That’s the rule.”

Sophia sighed in mock defeat, leaning in to take a bite from the fork Daniela held. Their fingers brushed, and both of them laughed — a soft, clumsy kind of laughter that felt natural.

They ended up sharing the rest of the cake, alternating bites, teasing each other about who got the bigger piece. By the time they were done, Sophia looked at the empty box and said, “We’re both sugar-high now.”

Daniela chuckled. “Then it’s a good night.”

After finishing their water and drying off in the lounge’s restroom — now back in their own clothes, hair slightly messy but faces glowing — they made their way through the quiet hallways toward the elevators. The hotel was hushed, the kind of calm that only existed at the end of a long, beautiful day.

They stopped in front of the elevator. Daniela pressed 8, Sophia pressed 4.

Silence filled the small space for a moment. Neither wanted to admit that the night was ending.

Sophia leaned against the wall, her voice soft. “This was… one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time.”

Daniela smiled, clutching the strap of her bag. “Same. You made it unforgettable.”

Sophia met her eyes, smiling back. “Then my mission’s accomplished.”

Daniela laughed quietly. “You really are something else, you know that?”

Before Sophia could answer, the elevator dinged — 4th floor.

The doors slid open. They both froze for a second, not quite ready to part ways.

Sophia turned to her. “Goodnight, Daniela.”

Daniela hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. “Will I… see you again?”

Sophia smiled, that same soft, mysterious smile that made her heart ache a little. “We’ll see, Dani.”

And with that, she stepped out. The doors closed, leaving Daniela alone, surrounded by her reflection in the mirrored walls — still smiling, still dazed.

When she reached her floor, she found her parents still awake, sitting on the couch of their hotel suite.

“Why are you still up?” she asked, surprised.

Her mom smiled. “Because we realized… we didn’t get a picture with our birthday girl.”

Her dad chuckled. “Sorry, sweetheart. It’s not technically your birthday anymore.”

Daniela felt her chest warm. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “You remembered. That’s what matters.”

They gathered close, laughing as her dad took a few selfies and her mom fussed over her hair. The pictures weren’t perfect — a bit blurry, eyes tired, but filled with warmth.

Later, lying in bed, the quiet hum of the air conditioner lulling her to sleep, Daniela found herself staring at the picture she took earlier — her and Sophia, faces lit by a candle’s glow.

She smiled, her heart full yet restless.

As her eyelids grew heavy, one thought lingered above all others — a small, hopeful wish she hadn’t said out loud when she blew out her candle:

That maybe, just maybe, she’d see Sophia again tomorrow.

Morning came — soft sunlight slipping through the curtains, brushing Daniela’s face awake.
It was their last day at the hotel, and by 10 a.m., they would be leaving.

By seven, her family was already gathered downstairs, filling plates from the breakfast buffet that stretched along the elegant dining hall. The air smelled of coffee and fresh bread. Daniela sat quietly, stirring her orange juice, her thoughts still trapped in the shimmer of last night — the laughter, the floating, the candlelight, Sophia.

Her mom nudged her lightly. “You’re not eating much, sweetheart.”

Daniela blinked, snapping out of her daze. “I’m full, Mom.”
But really, she wasn’t. Not with the ache of wanting to see someone again.

Then — suddenly — the calm hum of the morning was shattered by a loud, cheerful tune blasting through the speakers.
🎵 Happy birthday to you...! 🎵

Daniela froze, fork halfway to her mouth. Wait. No.

A group of hotel staff appeared, clapping, laughing, carrying a cake.
And they were walking straight toward her.

“What the—?” Daniela muttered, eyes wide as her parents started grinning.

“Surprise!” the waiters chorused, setting the cake down in front of her.
It was a rich, chocolate-covered one, with swirls of cream and a tiny candle flickering on top.

She didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or hide under the table.
“It’s… not even my birthday anymore,” she said weakly, cheeks flushing as the diners around them began to clap and cheer.

Her parents were laughing. “It’s from your tíos and tías!” her mom explained. “And Manon and Lara too!”

As if summoned, Manon, Lara, Quinny, and Caleb appeared by her side, smiling sheepishly.

“Happy late birthday, Dani!” Lara said, giggling as she leaned in for a hug. “Sorry we didn’t know it was yesterday.”

Caleb gave her a small smile, “Happy birthday, aunt Daniiii!”

“It’s okay,” Daniela said, laughing as she hugged them both. “You guys are sweet. Thank you.”

She blew out the candle, cheeks warm from the cheers that followed. For a moment, her heart lifted — she was surrounded by love.
But even as she smiled for photos, she couldn’t help but wish someone else had been there to sing along.

After breakfast, as everyone started returning to their rooms to pack, Daniela told her parents she’d follow later. “I’ll just… go outside for a while,” she said.

She stepped into the hotel garden — a small, park-like space bathed in morning light. The air was fresh, the sound of birds threading through the gentle rush of leaves. She sat on a wooden bench, her chest rising and falling in quiet rhythm.

The world felt still.
And in that stillness, she thought of Sophia — the way she smiled, the way her voice carried softly under the moonlight, the way that song wrapped around her like a memory she couldn’t let go of.

Daniela took out her phone and snapped a picture — the bench, the sun, a faint reflection of her in the background. She smiled sadly. Just in case I forget what this morning feels like, she thought.

Then she stood, brushed off her pants, and walked back to the hotel.

By nine-thirty, her family was ready to go. The hallways buzzed faintly with the sounds of guests checking out, luggage wheels rolling over carpet. Down at the lobby, relatives exchanged hugs and laughter — the kind that says “see you soon” but feels a little like “goodbye.”

Manon hugged her tightly. “You take care, okay?”
“I will,” Daniela said, smiling.
Then little Quinny toddled over, reaching for her.

“You want to hold her?” Lara asked.

Daniela nodded, arms opening. Quinny didn’t cry — just smiled faintly, tiny fingers brushing Daniela’s necklace as she murmured baby words only half-formed. Daniela laughed softly, her heart melting at the small sound.

Caleb came up next, shy as always. “Bye, aunt Dani,” he said, giving a quick wave.
“Bye, Caleb,” she said warmly.
Then Manon added, “We’ll miss you,” and Daniela hugged them again, one last time.

Finally, Emil and Vince approached, clapping her lightly on the shoulder. “Safe flight, Dani. Message us when you land.”

She nodded, smiling faintly. “I will.”

And just like that — everyone parted ways.

As Daniela helped load their suitcases into the car, her eyes kept scanning the hotel entrance, the lobby windows, even the streets nearby. Maybe she’s here. Maybe I’ll see her, just once more.

But Sophia wasn’t there.

Not at the café.
Not by the garden.
Not even near the poolside where last night’s laughter still echoed faintly in her memory.

And the realization hit harder than she expected — she didn’t even have Sophia’s number, her social media, anything.

It was as if Sophia had only existed for that one, perfect night.

By the time they reached the airport, the ache in her chest had settled into a quiet heaviness. Her parents kissed her forehead before she boarded.

“Take care, sweetie. Message us once you’ve landed, okay?”, her mom whispered. “We love you.”

“I love you too,” she said, smiling through the weight in her voice.

When she finally sat by the window seat of the plane, the world outside shimmered — clouds stretching endlessly, sunlight pouring in through glass. But Daniela didn’t sleep.

Not once.

Her mind kept looping back to that song, to the sound of Sophia’s voice under the moonlight, to the warmth of her laugh.

And somewhere between the sky and the earth, Daniela realized —
some people only need one night to change everything.

It had been weeks since that night — the one that changed everything.

Daniela was back in her dorm in L.A., back to her routines: early morning stretches, afternoon rehearsals, the hum of music that filled every corner of her small apartment. Everything was familiar.
Except her thoughts — because every night, no matter how tired she was, one name still echoed in her head.

Sophia.

No number, no messages, no trace. Just memories — her laughter against the water, the flicker of candlelight on her face, that soft voice singing under the moon.

But Daniela wasn’t sad anymore.
If anything, that night had lit something inside her.

She began to change.

The people who drained her energy — she cut them off without hesitation.
The things that made her doubt her worth — she let them go.
Instead, she poured everything into her craft. Into dance. Into herself.

And life, somehow, responded in kind.

By the middle of the semester, she had found a true friend — Yoonchae, her new roommate from Seoul. Bright, sarcastic, full of energy. They clicked instantly, like sisters who had been separated and just happened to find each other again.

One night, while Daniela was sketching ideas for choreography, she turned to her. “Hey, there’s this big dance event next week,” she said. “I’m performing my own piece.”

Yoonchae’s eyes sparkled. “Really? Of course I’m coming! You think I’d miss that?”

Daniela smiled. “Good. You can invite a friend, too. Or... anyone you want.”

“Deal,” Yoonchae grinned.

The night of the event arrived.

The campus theater buzzed with energy — glittering lights, the murmur of the crowd, the scent of stage makeup and nerves. Backstage, Daniela stood in her costume, palms slightly sweaty. But her heart? Steady.

She stepped onto the stage.

Music swelled.

And she danced — her story pouring through every movement, every turn, every breath. The months of practice, the emotion she’d buried, the memory she never let go of — all of it flowed through her body like fire and silk.

When it ended, she froze in the final pose.

For a moment, silence.

Then — a roar.

Applause filled the room, echoing through the rafters. A standing ovation. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t believe it — she did it.

Backstage, Yoonchae ran toward her and practically tackled her in a hug.
“Unnie, that was insane! I’m so proud of you!”

Daniela laughed breathlessly. “Thank you, Yoonchip. I still can’t feel my legs.”

“Good,” Yoonchae teased. “Means you danced like your life depended on it. Oh, and—” she looked over her shoulder, “I brought my friends.”

A girl with straight black hair and pink streaks framing her face bounded forward, her smile so bright it could light the whole backstage.

“Hi! I’m Megan,” she said cheerfully, practically glowing with energy.

Daniela smiled, instantly taken by her warmth. “Daniela. Nice to meet you.”

“You were amazing!” Megan said, eyes wide with admiration. “Like— I almost cried and I don’t even cry at dance performances!”

Daniela laughed. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me tonight.”

Yoonchae giggled. “She’s not lying. Megan cries over puppies but not art.”

Megan gasped dramatically. “Excuse me, I cried at Barbie!”

Daniela laughed again, feeling lighter. The three of them fell into an easy rhythm — like they’d known each other for years instead of minutes.

Then Yoonchae looked around. “Wait, where’s she? She said she’d just grab something.”

“Oh, she’ll be back,” Megan said, glancing toward the hall. “She saw something she wanted to buy.”

Daniela smiled faintly. “Sounds like me during lunch breaks.”

But then—

A soft click at the door.

Daniela turned — and her breath caught.

There, framed by the warm theater lights, stood…

Sophia.

Her hair was loosely tied, a few strands falling to her cheeks. She looked effortlessly radiant — familiar yet unreal, like a memory Daniela had dreamed too many times.

And in Sophia’s hands — a small white box.

The kind Daniela knew all too well.

Sophia’s smile was tender, her voice just as she remembered.

“Double chocolate mousse for the birthday girl,” she said softly.

Daniela’s lips parted — half laughing, half on the verge of tears. “You—”

Sophia stepped closer, her eyes gleaming. “You didn’t think I’d miss your performance, did you?”

Yoonchae and Megan exchanged curious looks, already sensing something deeper between them — the way Daniela’s whole face softened, the way Sophia’s gaze lingered like it finally found home.

Daniela took the box slowly, her fingers brushing Sophia’s. “You remembered,” she whispered.

Sophia smiled — that same smile under the moonlight. “How could I forget?”

And in that moment, amidst the noise of the stage and the crowd, the world seemed to quiet.

Two stories — once separated by distance and time — finally found each other again.

Because some nights don’t fade.

They wait.

Until life decides it’s time to continue the story.