The tears come before I can stop them.
Not sad tears—I'm so tired of sad tears—but something else.
Something bright and overwhelming and almost painful in its sweetness.
"You got me a cupcake," I manage.
"The bakery was out of cakes. Figured this was better than nothing."
"It's perfect." I wipe my eyes, laughing at myself. "I'm crying over a cupcake. God, I'm a mess."
"You're not a mess." He holds the cupcake closer, the candlelight reflected in his eyes. "Make a wish."
I look at the flame. Such a small thing. Such a simple tradition. But three years with Cain stripped away all the simple things, all the small joys, all the tiny moments that make life worth living.
This is the first birthday wish I've made since I was nineteen.
I close my eyes, think about everything I want—safety, peace, healing, love—and blow out the candle.
When I open my eyes, Levi is watching me with an expression I can't quite read.
"What did you wish for?" he asks.
"I can't tell you. It won't come true."
"Fair enough." He sets the cupcake aside, pulling me closer. "I have something else for you."
"You didn't have to?—"
"I wanted to." He reaches into the nightstand drawer and pulls out a small box. "It's not much. But I saw it and thought of you."
I take the box with trembling hands.
Inside, nestled on a bed of cotton, is a necklace—a delicate silver chain with a small pendant shaped like an open book.
"For the teacher," he says quietly. "The one you're going to become."
The tears come again, harder this time.
I can't speak.
Can't do anything but stare at this small, perfect gift from this hard, complicated man who somehow sees all the pieces of me—even the ones I'd forgotten existed.
"I love it," I whisper. "Will you put it on me?"
He takes the necklace from the box, and I turn so he can fasten the clasp at the back of my neck.
His fingers brush my skin, leaving trails of warmth in their wake.
When I turn back around, he's looking at me like I'm something precious.
Something worth protecting.
"Thank you," I say. "For the cupcake. For the necklace. For..." I gesture vaguely, trying to encompass everything. "For giving me a reason to celebrate again."
"You don't have to thank me."
"I want to." I move closer, pressing my body against his. "I want to show you how grateful I am."
