I blinked. Then sighed, shaking my head. “No candle, huh?”
She blinked, pulling the spoon out of her mouth slowly and chewing the cake, darting her eyes away from me.
Fine. No candle. No song. Just her, a spoon, and a cake she helped make. I could live with that.
She took another bite, clearly unfazed, and then tapped the cake twice with the spoon before looking at me, as if she were inviting me to dig in.
Come on, her eyes said.
I huffed a quiet laugh under my breath, tossing the towel onto the counter. “Ridiculous,” I muttered, but I was already reaching into the drawer. Grabbed another spoon.
When I sat beside her, she pushed the plate slightly toward me. The frosting was uneven, some parts too thick, others barely covered, but it didn’t matter.
It was hers. And I think it’s beautiful.
I dug in. Vanilla, warm, still a little soft in the centre. Way better than I expected.
She glanced sideways at me like she was waiting for a verdict.
“It’s good,” I said honestly. “You did fine, Campbell.”
She smiled at that and went back to eating, the two of us sharing a cake off the same plate in silence.
No candles. No noise.
Just quiet warmth.
When she licked the last bit of icing from her spoon, satisfied, I stood up, heart stupidly loud in my chest and went to the counter. Another box sat there waiting. Small. White. Silver ribbon tied the way the woman in the shop had shown me.
I grabbed it before I could second-guess myself and walked back to her.
Her eyes followed me, curious.
I stopped in front of her stool and slid the box across the counter. “Don’t look at me like that,” I muttered. “It’s not my fault Christmas and your birthday are basically the same week.”
She froze, staring down at it, then back up at me with this wide-eyedyou-did-notlook that made me want to smirk and hide all at once.
“Go on,” I said, nodding at the box.
Her fingers, still awkward with the cast, fumbled with the ribbon, taking her time. She opened it slowly, like she was afraid it’d disappear if she blinked.
And when she saw the bracelet, she just… stopped.
The silver caught the kitchen light, glinting softly. Tiny charms dangled from it, stars, a book, a little cat that remindedme of Honey and in the middle, a delicate princess charm. A gold crown.Sleeping Beauty.
Aurora.
Her breath hitched, barely audible, and she traced the charm with her thumb.
I cleared my throat, looking away because the silence was too heavy. “You’re always saving everyone else, feeding strays, helping people. Thought maybe…” I exhaled. “You deserved something that’s just yours.”
When I finally looked at her again, her gaze was fixed on that one specific gold crown charm, with that soft tug at the corner of her lips before her lips parted to speak.
“Thank you,” she said, barely audible, but I caught it anyway.
I shrugged, pretending to play it off. “Just don’t tell anyone. Lockhart doesn’t do birthday gifts.”
But the way she smiled, holding the bracelet like it was the world… I knew I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
