By the time I got home, it was already late. The dim, flickering hallway lights cast long shadows, and that was when I noticed a small box sitting by my door.
I hadn't seen it when I left earlier. Maybe someone had dropped off a package by mistake.
Thinking it might belong to a neighbor, I bent down to pick it up, planning to knock on their door and ask.
But then I saw the note.
"Happy Birthday, Juliana."
So, someone did remember my birthday.
After everything that had happened today, I had no expectations. Yet, standing there with that little box in my hands, a warmth I hadn't felt in a long time crept into my chest.
For once, someone had thought of me—not just as Isabella's shadow.
My hands trembled as I stepped inside, clutching the package. Even as I opened it, I was afraid. Afr
