“Blow out your candles, Ciri, and make a wish,” my sweet father coos before kissing the top of my head. “Anything can come true if you will it with enough spirit. Or a fairy godmother deems it so.” He smiles and coughs, quickly quieting it. “Remember that.”
Gathering as much air into my lungs as possible, I still, running my wish through my mind, desperate for it to come true.
I wish that my dad and I will always have each other.
As I open my eyes, I expel the air, controlled and aimed at the candles, extinguishing every one. A tendril of smoke drifts up into the air from each smothered flame.
My father claps, pure glee stretched in his smile as I glance up at him, and he murmurs, “Happy birthday, my angel. I love you.”
Warmth blossoms through my chest. “I love you too.”
“Time for presents!” he cheers, way too excited to watch me open up gifts, before he disappears into the living room.
He’s always made such a fuss about my birthday, and I love him for it, but I always remind him that it’s not necessary. I already have everything I could want.
It doesn’t matter though. I know this is as much for him as it is for me, even if he doesn’t realize that.
While he’s ecstatic to celebrate all thingsmeon my special day, there’s a heaviness in his gaze because he knows my mom should be here to party with us too.
If it brings him happiness to go all out, then it makes me happy too.
As he rushes over to me, his slippers pad across the wood floor, his arms full of presents balancing on top of one another. “Better hurry. Your friends will be here soon.”
That reminds me of the party we’re hosting tonight for my classmates. My gaze is pulled to the gold-and-white balloon arch covering the entrance of the room, cascading all the way down to two giant gold balloons resting on the floor that read11.
“Thank you, Dad.” I grin up at him as he chaotically plops the perfectly wrapped gifts on the dining table.
Kindness rolls off of him in waves. “You deserve the world, Cirella. Never forget.”
“I won’t,” I promise him, lifting my hand up and sticking my pinkie finger out.
He takes mine with his, and we hook our fingers and lock the promise into place—an unbreakable bond.
A strange woman’s voice echoes down the hall and into the room, a sharp, poised tone. “Hello? Is anyone there?”
My dad doesn’t jump or act startled, like he knew she was coming. “In here, Adrianna!”
Adrianna?
A woman with long, dark hair, straightened to a T, shiny and thick, strolls into the room like the floor rises to meet each step. My stomach tightens, but I ignore the sensation, unsure what it means.
She’s smiling, big and bright, and my shoulders soften. Her gaze drops from my dad to me, and I smile politely.
“Happy birthday, Cirella. It’s so lovely to meet you! I have heard all the best things. You’re so bright and beautiful.”
“Thank you. It’s great to meet you too.” My voice is steady and sweet.
“Ciri, this is Adrianna. She is a friend of mine, and she’ll be theofficialhost of your party tonight,” my dad informs me, offering a chair to his friend.
I may only be eleven, but I’m maturer than people expect. One of my greatest strengths is detail—noticing and dissecting.
It doesn’t take a genius to see that there is affection between them. I can see it in their stares and their posture.
I may not want a stepmother. But if it means my dad can find happiness again, then I’m all aboard.
“Thank you for helping us.” I flash another smile.
Her face lights up, and she clasps her hands, tucking them to her chest. “It’s my honor, sweetie.”
