I chuckled, burying my cheek into my pillow as I typed back.
Me: I miss you and love you all too.
Me: have a nice holiday and see you soon <3
I was glad they were happy and having fun…
And me?
I was here. Alone.
Except… not really.
Because even if it felt wrong to admit it, having Joshua these past few weeks had been enough.
No.Morethan enough.
He’d done so much without ever having to say the words.
Took care of me the weekend after the pool, when I couldn’t stand on my own. Helped me search for a job when I lost mine. Cooked for me. Took in a stray kitten so I wouldn’t starve myself to feed it. Made a roast dinner just because it was Christmas. Even got me a gift, a book, because he remembered.
Every memory of him pressed gently against my chest, and the warmth it left there was impossible to ignore. It was the kind of warmth that made breathing feel different, easier and heavier all at once.
I curled deeper into the blanket, pressing my face into the pillow to hide the smile that tried to creep up.
My birthday wouldn’t be spent alone this year.
For the first time since Dad passed, I’d have someone to share it with. And even if I knew it couldn’t last, even if I knew that when my cast came off, I’d have to walk away to protect myself…
Right now, it didn’t matter.
Because for once, being around someone like him, someone who’d broken me, then tried to piece me back together with shaking hands, it felt good.
Too good.
And that terrified me.
My phone buzzed again.
Another message, this time not from the girls’ group chat.
Miles: Happy birthday, brainiac. Don’t party too hard without me.
Miles: Meaning don’t nerd out without me.
Miles: but still, happy birthday.
Miles: have a good day, doll.
I just stared at the screen for a second.
Then smiled. Small. Genuine.
But not the way I used to.
There wasn’t that familiar flutter in my chest anymore, that nervous excitement I’d always got whenever Miles’s name popped up. The kind that made me check my reflection before answering his messages or rehearse what I’d say so I wouldn’t sound too awkward.
That version of me, the one who used to blush over his jokes and hope he’d look her way in class, felt far away now. Like someone else entirely.
