Birthday gift

Roan’s feet pounded against the wet pavement as he ran through the parking lot. Rain hammered down on him, soaking through his clothes until he felt it against his skin. But he didn’t care.

She’s leaving.

The thought pushed him faster. His lungs burned, but he kept running. He’d been through this terminal a hundred times before. Never like this. Never with his heart trying to rip itself out of his chest.

Then he saw Melanie.

She was standing by the tracks, one small suitcase beside her. Her hand was closed tight, like she was holding onto her decision with everything she had.

Roan’s throat suddenly closed up. He wanted to call her name, but nothing came out.

Just then the train pulled up with a screech of metal. Doors slid open. Voices blended together. The final call echoed through the terminal.

She grabbed her suitcase and walked toward it.

Then, like she felt him watching, she turned.

Their eyes met.

Him, dripping wet and desperate. Her, one step away from leaving forever.

Melanie looked at the train. Looked at him. Took another step toward the door.

Roan dropped to his knees right there in the rain.

She froze.

Slowly, she turned back. Left her suitcase where it was and walked straight toward him.

“I love you, Mel.” The words poured out of him. “With everything I have. And it terrifies me. Everyone I’ve ever loved, I’ve lost. I’m scared that if I love you, I’ll lose you too.” He lifted his face to her, rain streaking down his cheeks. “I know I shouldn’t stop you. You should go. But I needed you to know. I love you.”

Melanie’s breath caught. These were the words she had been dying to hear. For months. For years. For forever.

She dropped to her knees in front of him and held his face in her hands.

“I will never leave you,” she whispered. “Never.”

He kissed her before she could say anything else. Deep and hungry and desperate. Around them, people rushed past with umbrellas and briefcases. But neither of them noticed.

They were lost in their own world.

Emily Harlow stared at the TV screen as the credits rolled, her vision blurred with tears.

She wished the scene would keep going. Wished the camera would linger just a little longer. Wished happy endings lasted more than a few minutes before the screen went black.

The season finale of Love City.

Her favorite show. Her escape. Melanie and Roan had finally gotten their happily-ever-after. Emily knew she should be smiling. Should be clapping or cheering like she always did.

But instead, her chest felt tight.

She sat on the living room floor in her party dress, legs crossed awkwardly, surrounded by half-eaten popcorn and a small, untouched birthday cake with melting frosting. The candles had burned down hours ago. Wax pooled on the plate like something forgotten.

Who eats cake on the floor alone on their birthday?

She hugged her knees and looked back at the blank screen. The happiness she had just watched only made the silence in her apartment louder.

Her sister’s words echoed in her mind, sharp and uninvited.

“What was there to celebrate?”

Emily swallowed.

Really. What was there?

She was twenty-seven years old and had never been on a single date. Not one dinner. Not one movie. Not even a disastrous coffee meetup she could laugh about later. Her life had been work, responsibility, and sacrifice, stitched together with quiet nights and unspoken wants.

Her phone rang.

The sound startled her. She glanced at the screen and saw her mother’s name flashing.

For a split second, she considered letting it go to voicemail.

Instead, she answered.

“Ma, I was—”

“Emily! Guess who just got married!”

Emily closed her eyes.

“I don’t know, Ma,” she said with a tired groan. She knew exactly where this was heading.

“At least try,” her mother snapped. “You never try. Always ‘I don’t know,’ ‘I don’t gossip,’ ‘I haven’t heard.’ Blah, blah, blah.”

“Delia?” Emily guessed, naming their old neighbor’s daughter just to stop the lecture.

“Oh, Emily! Delia has been married for five years!” her mother huffed. “Honestly, you live under a rock.”

“Well… who is it, then?” Emily asked quietly.

“You won’t believe it. I couldn’t believe it myself. Rachel. Rachel from across the street. Thirty-five-year-old Rachel.”

“Oh.” Emily pressed her fingers to her temple. “Well… good for her.”

“Good for her?” her mother repeated sharply. “Is that all you have to say? If I wasn’t your mother, I would have given up on you by now.”

Emily didn’t respond. She had learned long ago that silence was safer.

Her mother didn’t pause.

“She got married through that marriage makeover show. Distasteful, I know, but it did the job. The man isn’t much to look at and quite poor, but at her age, she can’t be picky. Honestly, if they could marry her off, they can do it for anyone.”

Emily’s stomach tightened.

“And her mother told me they had one more slot open for this week’s show,” her mother continued briskly. “So I signed you up.”

Emily sat up straighter.

“You did what?”

“I signed you up. I’m tired of waiting. You’re not setting a good example for your sisters.”

“You signed me up for a marriage show?” Emily’s voice shook. “On my birthday?”

“It’s your birthday,” her mother said dismissively. “You’re getting older. Consider it a present from me.”

“A present?” Emily whispered. “You’re signing me up to be humiliated on national television.”

“I’m tired of being a laughing stock here,” her mother snapped. “I need grandchildren too. At your age, I had already given birth to all my children.”

“Children you could barely feed,” Emily muttered under her breath.

“You are twenty-eight—”

“Twenty-seven,” Emily corrected automatically.

“The same thing,” her mother said sharply. “And you’ve never brought a date home. I’ve left this in your hands long enough. Now I take control. No excuses.”

Emily felt numb.

“The reason I called,” her mother added, “is to tell you to accept when they request your consent.”

“Ma—”

“If you reject it, I will disown you.”

The line went dead.

Emily stared at her phone until the screen went dark.

She slowly sank to the floor, the weight of everything pressing down on her chest. She had given up her youth raising her siblings. She had worked two jobs, sometimes three, while going to school. She had put her dreams on pause again and again.

And it still wasn’t enough.

She wasn’t enough.

For the first time in years, she let herself cry.

Her sobs came hard and wracking, shaking her shoulders until she felt hollowed out. Eventually, exhaustion dulled the ache. She pushed herself up, intending to go to bed and sleep through the rest of the night.

Her phone rang again.

She almost ignored it. Then her mother’s last words echoed in her head.

She answered.

“Miss Emily Harlow?” a monotone voice asked.

“Yes,” Emily replied automatically, forcing herself to sound composed. “Who is this?”

“This is Andrea from the Marriage Match. You have been selected to participate in the Husband Lottery. Do you consent?”

Emily’s heart pounded.

Standing on a stage. Being judged. Being watched.

“Do you consent?” the voice repeated.

Emily looked around her apartment. The lonely cake. The dark screen. The life she had built that no one seemed to value.

She had nothing left to lose.

“Yes,” she said softly.

There was a pause.

“Yes,” she repeated, louder this time.

“Perfect. There is a car waiting to bring you over.”

“Right now?” Emily asked, stunned.

“Yes. Bring only your phone and ID. Everything else will be provided.”

“But—”

“You have five minutes,” the voice said calmly. “Or the car will leave without you. Tell the driver Cupid’s House.”

The call ended.

Five minutes.

Emily rushed to the bathroom, washed the tears from her face, tied her hair into a quick knot, grabbed her ID, and ran. She didn’t even change her dress.

She took the stairs, sprinting down five floors, bursting out onto the street just as a sleek gray BMW started to pull away.

“Wait!” she shouted.

She climbed in breathless. “Cupid’s House.”

The driver glanced at her once, then drove off.

Emily looked back at her apartment building as it disappeared from view.

A strange unease settled in her chest.

Something told her that when she left tonight, nothing in her life would ever be the same again.