Evil woke to a rare brightness in her dingy apartment, the morning light slipping through the cracked blinds like a promise. It was her seventeenth birthday, and for the first time in a long while, she felt a flicker of excitement. Her phone buzzed with a few scattered messages—confirmations from Anny, Vedal, Mini, Camila, and Toma. They were all coming over to celebrate, and that alone was enough to make her smile as she tugged on her usual black hoodie and jeans.
By midday, the small space was alive with noise and warmth. Balloons bobbed in the corners, a little lopsided banner hung over the doorway, and the smell of fresh cupcakes wafted from the kitchen where Anny was bustling around. Vedal had set up a small table with snacks and drinks, his quiet smile a steady anchor in the chaos. Mini was bouncing around the room, her laughter bright and infectious, while Camila lounged on the couch, smirking as she shuffled a deck of cards for later mischief. Toma was sprawled on the floor, fiddling with a playlist on her phone, the music filling the air with a chill vibe.
The day unfolded like a perfect memory. They played games—Mini won at charades with her wild gestures, Camila cheated shamelessly at cards, and Toma kept everyone laughing with her dry one-liners. They ate cupcakes until their fingers were sticky, sang an off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday” with Vedal’s low voice steadying the melody, and danced to Toma’s playlist, even if half of them were terrible at it. Anny snapped photos with her old camera, insisting they’d look back on these moments someday and smile. Evil sat in the middle of it all, her heart full, feeling like she belonged somewhere for once.
As evening settled in, they collapsed onto the couch in a heap, limbs tangled and voices soft with exhaustion. Evil leaned against Anny, her head resting on Vedal’s shoulder, while Mini’s purring filled the quiet spaces. Camila tossed a playful wink her way, and Toma raised a can of soda in a lazy toast. It was messy, loud, and everything Evil had ever wanted her birthday to be. She closed her eyes, letting the warmth of their presence wrap around her like a blanket.
Evil woke to silence. The room was dark, the air cold and stale. She was alone on her mattress, the cracked walls of her empty apartment staring back at her. No balloons, no banner, no cupcakes. Her phone sat untouched—no messages, no missed calls. It had all been a dream, a cruel trick her mind had played while she slept through another lonely birthday.
The realization hit like a punch, and Evil curled into herself, her arms wrapping around her knees. Tears slipped down her cheeks, quiet at first, then heavier, until she was sobbing into her pillow, the ache in her chest sharper than ever. It was her birthday, and she was alone.