‘No and no, though I wouldn’t mind giving my firstborn and last and my soul and all my tomorrows for a glimpse of the Pink Star.’
I drooled at the thought of touching the 59.60-carat, vivid pink, flawless diamond.
‘Any plans tonight? Why do I even ask?’ Yvaine waved off her own question. ‘Let guess. Candlelit dinner by the bay, live string quartet in the background. I know, I know. I won’t be the third wheel.’
I said nothing.
Actually, no, I didn’t have any plans tonight.
Ashton hadn’t said anything when I left the house this morning.
And so far, half the day had passed without a ssage from him.
Maybe he thought the share transfer agreent had said ‘happy birthday’ loud and clear.
By evening, Priya and Daniel packed up and left.
Yvaine got a call and dashed off in her ridiculous boots, leaving the studio dead quiet.
I shut my laptop, stacked the loose sketch sheets, reached for the light switch—
And stopped.
Through the glass, soone appeared on the pavent outside.
Alone. Stepping out of a car.
Long black coat. Straight shoulders. No umbrella.
Streetlights flicked on behind him as he passed, one by one, as if his presence had triggered them.
Warm yellow light slid across his shoulders, caught in his hair, followed him like his personal ring light.
The street behind him buzzed with engines and shouting and crosswalk signals.
He didn’t look at any of it. His eyes stayed on through the glass.
I didn’t move.
He pushed the door open.
The bell overhead gave a short, clear chi.
Cold air followed him in.
He walked straight to and wrapped his gloved fingers around mine.
‘Co with .’
He tugged, I followed.
Outside, the traffic was louder, headlights sliding past, people jostling to get through.
We stopped on the edge of the pavent.
His hand stayed on mine.
He leaned down so close I felt his breath. ‘Look up.’
I lifted my head.
Dark sky. No stars. Just cloud cover and the faint hum of the city pressing in from every side.
I turned to him, confused.
He counted, ‘Three. Two. One.’
The sky split open.
Not lightning. Not thunder.
Fireworks.
Red. Gold. Blue. White.
A burst, then ten more.
Then hundreds.
They ca from rooftops, from cranes, from sowhere across the river.
So small and sharp, others fat and slow like molten coins lting against the sky.
Sparks rained down the sides of glass towers, lit up the windows, turned the clouds pink and silver.
I forgot to breathe.
There were too many to count.
The air slled like sulphur and burnt sugar.
A low rumble shook the concrete under my boots.
It didn’t stop.
I lost track of how long I stood there.
Minutes. Maybe longer.
Eventually, the last one flickered out.
The sky emptied.
Then the noise ca back all at once.
Shouting, whistling, high-pitched screams—so many voices I couldn’t tell one from the other.
I blinked. My ears rang.
People had stopped walking. Everyone was looking up.
Phones were everywhere, arms stretched high, caras flashing.
The pavent pulsed with footsteps and voices.
‘These are insane. Who the hell paid for that many at once?’
‘What’s the occasion?’
‘It’s not just here. My cousin’s across town, said the whole skyline’s lit up.’
‘So bloody massive. I can feel the heat from here.’
‘Must be so rich brat showing off. I’m not complaining.’
‘Not a holiday. Not even a public event. Soone planned that for a private reason.’
‘Post it to your feed, quick!’
‘What for? Everyone in the city’s already seen it.’
The sky dimd, one flicker at a ti.
Blue faded to grey.
The clouds swallowed the colour.
The air felt heavier again, like it had been stretched and snapped back too fast.
I turned to Ashton.
I couldn’t see properly.
My vision hadn’t adjusted.
Everything looked sared and too bright, like a lens had fogged.
He looked at with those eyes. Wide, sharp, too focused.
They caught the last of the light.
Or maybe they made their own.
He said, ‘They’re for you. Did you like them?’
My pulse kicked hard.
I felt it in my throat, in my ribs, behind my eyes.
It took a second to get my voice out. ‘Yeah. I did.’
His mouth curved.
‘Good.’
He squeezed my hand again.
Then he said, quiet but clear, ‘It’s not over. Look up again.’
I did.
The sky had turned black again, but tiny white lights started blinking above us, slow and irregular.
They shimred in and out, then clustered together, moving across the dark in sharp, deliberate strokes.
The words ca one at a ti.
All.
For.
You.
Happy.
Birthday.
M.
The lights stayed for a beat, then scattered, drifting outward like sparks caught in a breeze.
They shrank, pulling higher and farther until they disappeared past the rooftops.
Then silence.
Ashton’s voice reached my ear as if from a dream.
‘I had a whole speech planned. None of it felt right. Too many big words. Too much fluff. I figured simple would do better. So, happy birthday, Mira.’
I turned towards him.
Words failed .
‘I thought about presents. Sothing tangible. Jewellery, shoes, bags. But they all break, get lost, get thrown out. This’—he gestured towards the sky—‘you might rember.’
He leaned down. His lips brushed the corner of my mouth.
‘May your life be filled with many more such mories, Mira.’
Then he pulled back.
My skin burned where his mouth had touched .
He took my hand again, gently tugging towards the studio.
‘You’re freezing. Co inside.’
The door shut behind us with a soft clunk.
Heat rolled over the second we stepped in, thick and dry.
My fingers twitched as the blood ca back.
He gave a short laugh, half under his breath.
‘By the way, the fireworks were eco-friendly. Full permit too. Don’t worry.’
He held sothing up in his other hand.
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