CHAPTER TWENTY – Birthday party
The smell of vanilla cake filled the kitchen as I put the last touches on the frosting. Lila and Isla were five today. Five.
The morning sunlight spilled through the curtains like golden confetti, warm and soft, as if the universe itself had come to celebrate. The house was quiet for a moment, and I just stood there, staring at the two sleeping faces that had changed my life forever. My twins. My miracles.My world.
Five years.
Five years of tears, laughter, scraped knees, late-night fevers, bedtime stories, and whispered prayers that somehow kept us all going. Five years of learning how to be strong when I felt like I was breaking, of holding them through storms real and emotional and of finding pieces of myself again through the way they smiled at me.
I bent down, brushing a curl from my daughter's forehead, then kissing my son's tiny hand.
"Happy birthday, my loves," I whispered, my voice catching a little.
By the time the house filled with guests, it was no longer quiet it was alive. Balloons floated everywhere, tied to chairs and doorknobs. Streamers curled down like rainbows. The smell of frosting and chocolate drifted from the kitchen, and music played softly in the background.
The twins wore crowns glittery golden ones they had chosen themselves. My daughter twirled in her bright yellow dress, showing everyone how it sparkled when she spun. My son kept tugging at his tiny bow tie, pretending he didn't like it, but the proud smile he gave me said otherwise.
The cake sat in the center of the table like a masterpiece. One half was decorated in blue with superhero figurines standing tall, capes flying. The other half shimmered in pink and purple, topped with unicorns and stars. Two candles stood side by side, both shaped like the number 5, waiting to be lit.
When it was time, everyone gathered around, clapping and cheering. The twins leaned forward, their small faces glowing in the candlelight. I stood behind them, one hand on each of their shoulders, and I could feel my heart pounding not from sadness, but from joy so big it almost hurt.
"Make a wish," someone said.
They didn't even close their eyes they just looked at each other, sharing a silent smile, and blew the candles out together.
In that moment, I thought about everything we had survived the sleepless nights when I didn't know how I'd make it through the next day, the loneliness that used to sit heavy in my chest, the moments I almost gave up but didn't because of them.
Today, I wasn't just celebrating their birthday. I was celebrating the fact that I was still here. That we were still here standing, smiling, living.
When the cheers died down, I pulled them close, kissing the tops of their heads.
"You two are my whole world," I whispered, fighting back the tears. "And I'm so proud of you."
The party went on with games, dancing, and loud laughter that filled every corner of the house. But inside, something quiet and peaceful bloomed in my heart.
We were okay.
I still couldn't wrap my head around it.
When they were born, I'd been terrified too young, too heartbroken, too unsure if I could be the kind of mother they deserved.
But now, as I looked around our cozy home streamers hanging across the doorway, balloons tied to chairs I realized I'd done it. We'd made it.
The shop had closed early for the celebration, and soon our little house was full of people.
Neighbors who had become family.
Customers who had become friends.
Even Mrs. Fallon from the bakery came with a box of cookies.
Liora had driven in two days early, her suitcase sitting by the door, her laughter filling every corner of the house.
The girls ran into the room, squealing when they saw the cake.
"It has five candles, Mama!" Isla shouted, practically bouncing in place.
"Of course it does," I said, smoothing a curl away from her face.
Everyone clapped.
Later, when the presents were opened and the house had quieted, I stood in the doorway watching them play with their new toys.
"You're getting sentimental," Liora teased, coming to stand beside me with a cup of tea.
"Of course I am," I said, blinking back tears. "Five years ago, I didn't know if I'd even make it to today. And now look at them."
"They're amazing," she said softly.
"They saved me," I admitted. "I don't think I would've found my way without them."
Liora reached out and squeezed my hand. "You've given them a beautiful life, Rina. One you built with your own hands."
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
"I just want to keep them safe," I said quietly.
"You will," she said firmly. "But you also have to let the world see what you've created. You've worked too hard to stay hidden forever."
Her words settled over me long after she went to bed.
That night, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
I thought about the investor's offer. About the women who had driven hours just to find my perfume. About how my little shop had become something much bigger than I'd planned.
And about how the girls had wished for something I couldn't hear.
Maybe it was time I started wishing, too.
The next morning, I wrote a note and slipped it into my pocket.
"Let's talk," it said.
I was going to call the investor back.
Not to say yes.
Not yet.
But to ask what it would really take to step out of Calderhallow and into the world