He crossed his heart, holding his hands up in surrender, “No singing.”
It was the most wonderful birthday I may have ever had—even though Day broke almost every rule within the first hour. There wasweird,crazy,loud, and he’d sung happy birthday at least a dozen times already.
Reaper snored lightly atop my feet under the table, his breathing slow and even. Beside me, Day flipped another card into the growing pile between us. His attempt to teach me some obscure card game Fortune had invented years ago was going miserably. The very same game Fortune hadwonrepeatedly—leaving Day naked and in Fortune’s bed the next morning.
"See, I think he cheats. ‘Cause honestly, I am killing you right now," Day said, flipping another card with a flourish.
"I've never played before! And I don't know how to tell you this, Day, but none of these rules make any sense. Didn’t you say Fortunecreatedthis game?"
"Yeah, but—"
"But what? His rules are nonsense. The game is rigged. Whoever goes first wins."
Day groaned, scrubbing a hand down his jaw, a motion I'd come to recognize as his universal sign of frustration. He cocked his head, thumbing through the cards with fierce concentration as his tongue poked out between his teeth, and dammit…it was cute.
“Fuck, you’re right.”
I laughed and dropped my hand of cards onto the table. “Fortune favors the bold.”
“Yes, he does,” Day added with a salacious wink.
It was my turn to groan.
“I'm full—no, bursting at the seams!” Day dramatically patted his stomach, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “Anything else the birthday girl wishes for before we watch the aurora borealis?”
I had one last wish and I’d waited all day, expecting him to show up. Or for a letter to appear. Or a flicker of a sign that he was watching, lingering in the shadows.
It stung more than I cared to admit.
My gaze dropped to the nearly finished basket in the corner. I’d spent almost the whole day working on it, in between writing and the planned birthday festivities with Time. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this... at peace. In my own skin.In my own thoughts. In my own life.
Even with the Kapoors, I couldn’t truly be myself. Murder, lying, stealing—it was all part of my survival.
I wanted to hold onto this moment. Tie myself to it like a lifeline.
Lost in thought, I startled when Day spoke again.
“If you could do anything…live any life, no curse, no pledged soul, what would you do?"
With a century under my belt, I had almost nothing to show for it—just a shitty-looking basket and a rap sheet a mile long. Day wasn’t judging me, he never would. But I judged myself.
“I think—I think I'd like to place roots somewhere,” I said quietly. “Maybe marry again. Have children. Do something big and lasting…”
My voice cracked. It was a terrifying thing to give voice to your dreams. All of a sudden, something you'd held only in your spirit was given matter and agency. It took up space in the world—it existed.
“God, I miss my family.”
“I can’t imagine that kind of loss, Astoria.”
Day reached out slowly, his fingers brushing my shoulder. There was no pity in his gaze as his hand traveled toward mine, clasping it gently.
“Whether you see it or not, you’ve made a difference.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to stop the tears. I wanted to roll my eyes, to brush it off, but I couldn’t. Ishani was the beginning and end of my good deeds. I wanted things to be different after Phoenix. I tried to fix things…
What good was living forever if you couldn’t make any lasting connections? It wasn’t as if I wanted to be remembered, but I wanted my existence to matter. I didn’t want to be the shadow I’d turned into. Bringing back the dead had done a whole lot of nothing, it turned out. In fact, I’d lost double the number of people I thought I’d saved.
“Enough sadness, you’re here. Another day, another moment. Another chance. Let’s have more cake!” Day’s ability to shakemoods like shucking off a jacket was truly impressive. He clapped his hands together, a bright smile across his beautiful face.
