Heart Bound

Last Normal Birthday

Kyrie's. POV

Saturday, my birthday, started out as normally as any other. The house was quiet when I woke up, but I could already smell the sweet, comforting aroma of chocolate chip pancakes wafting from the kitchen. Mom always made them on my birthday—thick, fluffy pancakes loaded with melty chocolate chips and drizzled with vanilla icing instead of syrup. The smell alone was enough to shake off the remnants of sleep and pull me downstairs.

As I entered the kitchen, Mom was at the stove, flipping a pancake with the expert hand of someone who’d been making these for years. She looked up and smiled, a soft, warm look that momentarily chased away the unease of the last week.

“There she is, birthday girl,” she said, setting the spatula down to give me a hug. Her arms wrapped around me tightly, lingering a little longer than usual. “Happy birthday, sweetie.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I said, returning the hug, grateful for a moment of normalcy.

Kade, my brother, was already seated at the table, eyeing the stack of pancakes as if he were counting each one to make sure he’d get his share. “Happy birthday, Kyrie,” he mumbled with his mouth half-full of pancake.

“Thanks, Kade,” I laughed, rolling my eyes. “Nice to know your manners are as impeccable as always.”

He shrugged, grinning. “Hey, they’re Mom’s chocolate chip pancakes. This is serious business.”

The morning was easy and filled with laughter. Dad joined us after a while, joking about how I was getting “too old too fast” and telling a few embarrassing stories from when I was younger that Kade couldn’t resist snickering over. For a moment, everything felt just like it used to, like all the weirdness from the past week had disappeared. I tried to savor it, not wanting the moment to end.

In the evening, Mom and Dad insisted on a family dinner at home, pulling out all the stops to make it feel special. We sat around the dining room table, the usual suspects of my favorite foods spread across the table—Mom’s lasagna, garlic bread, roasted vegetables. It was cozy and perfect in its own way, and as much as I’d been craving a break from home, I couldn’t deny the warmth of being surrounded by my family.

After dinner, we moved to the living room, where Mom had a cake waiting—a rich chocolate cake with glossy ganache frosting, topped with a ring of tiny, edible flowers. It was beautiful, almost too beautiful to eat, but Kade wasted no time in slicing into it, and soon we were all indulging in thick slices of chocolatey heaven.

Just as I was finishing my slice, the doorbell rang. I jumped up, wiping my hands on a napkin. “I’ll get it!”

I opened the door to find Gina and Channing grinning back at me, each holding a small gift wrapped in colorful paper. Gina immediately threw her arms around me, squeezing me so hard I thought I’d lose my breath.

“Happy birthday, Kyrie!” she squealed, her wings—normally hidden in the human world—flashing in my mind, an echo of the fae magic that always seemed to cling to her.

“Happy birthday, Ky,” Channing said, his smile warm as he passed me his gift. He looked a little nervous, glancing back toward the street as if he were making sure no one had followed him.

“Thanks, guys! Come in!” I ushered them inside, leading them to the living room where the rest of the family was still lingering over cake.

Mom welcomed them warmly, though she shot me a cautious look, as if to remind me of her strange rules from earlier in the week. But tonight, she didn’t seem to mind as Gina and Channing joined us, laughing as Kade teased them and Mom made sure they had plates of cake and drinks in hand.

After a while, the three of us slipped away to my room, shutting the door behind us. Gina plopped down on my bed, practically bouncing with excitement as she handed me her gift.

“Okay, open mine first!” she said, her eyes bright.

I grinned, tearing into the glittery wrapping paper. Inside was a delicate silver pendant with a small stone in the center, swirling with colors that seemed to shift in the light. It was mesmerizing, like a tiny piece of the fae world had been captured just for me.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathed, slipping it on. “Thank you, Gina.”

She smiled, her gaze softening. “It’s enchanted, actually. Just a little something to keep you safe, even when I’m not around.”

I hugged her, grateful beyond words, and then turned to Channing’s gift. His was wrapped in simple paper, no frills, but it made me smile as I opened it. Inside was a hand-bound journal with thick, cream-colored pages, each one bordered in silver ink.

“For you to write down all those stories you’re always coming up with,” he said, his voice soft. “Figured you might want something a little… special for them.”

I hugged him too, a warmth filling my chest as I took in the thoughtful gesture. “Thank you, Channing. Really. This is… perfect.”

The three of us spent the next hour talking, laughing, and flipping through the journal as Gina made plans for a trip to the fae realm soon, claiming she wanted to show me even more of her world. I lost myself in the happiness of the moment, grateful for friends who felt like family, who saw me for who I really was.

But as the night wore on, and the laughter started to fade, a strange feeling settled over me—a quiet unease that had been lurking just beneath the surface all day. I couldn’t shake the memory of my mom’s overly cheerful smile, the strange rules she’d set.

I looked at Gina and Channing, laughing as they recounted some ridiculous story from school, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this might be the last birthday that felt this way—normal, simple, safe.