Chapter 4

On the day they'd promised to celebrate my birthday, Aurora was wheeled into surgery.

Once they'd confirmed everything was going smoothly, my parents and brother came to my room.

My mother came to my bedside and took my hand. "Francesca, I'm here to celebrate your birthday."

My father actually looked gentle for once. "Since we're all here, let's make the most of it. Come with us to see Aurora later. She wants to hear you say you forgive her when she wakes up."

I didn't answer.

Early that morning, I'd gone into acute heart failure.

After they stabilized me again, the doctor said my heart was now too weak for me to even stand.

Not one of them noticed.

My mother turned to my brother. "Where's the cake? Didn't you say you'd ordered it?"

He froze. Something flickered across his face, then he frowned. "Aurora was scared last night. I stayed with her and forgot."

My mother's expression changed, but then she smiled. "It's fine. I'll send someone out now. It won't take long."

My father checked the time impatiently. "It's just a cake. Have the kitchen send up whatever's available."

My brother was already giving orders to his men. "Get a sugar-free yogurt cake made. Follow the recipe, and hurry."

While we waited, the room went silent.

My mother's mind was elsewhere. My brother kept checking his phone.

They were both worried about Aurora.

I didn't say anything about it. I just wanted the cake to arrive sooner.

Then his phone rang.

He looked at the screen, frowned, and stepped into the hall to answer.

He came back looking frantic. "Aurora's vitals are unstable. They need us there."

Both of my parents stood up at once.

I watched them, and I knew what came next.

I'd seen this too many times. I could close my eyes and still know who they'd choose.

"The cake..." My mother hesitated.

My brother glanced at me. "Eat it when it comes. We'll check on Aurora and be right back."

I said, "You promised to celebrate my birthday today."

He frowned. "I know."

I pressed. "This is my last one. The doctor says I won't make it to another."

My father's face darkened. "Enough! Francesca, you say that every time, and every time you pull through just fine.

"Don't forget what you promised me!"

At the door, my brother turned back, pulled a black envelope from his pocket, and tossed it onto my bed.

"Write down your birthday wish and put it in there," he said. "We'll make it happen when we get back. Stop making a scene."

The door closed, and the room went quiet again.

Not long after, the doctor came in.

He held the critical-condition notice. "Ms. Vitelli, your heart can't hold out much longer. You need surgery immediately."

"They're with Aurora."

I took the page from him, folded it, and put it in the envelope my brother had left.

Half an hour later, the cake arrived.

They didn't.

I lit the candles that read 20, closed my eyes, and made a real wish.

I opened my eyes, looked around the empty room, and sang "Happy Birthday."

I sang it nine times. They still weren't back.

I started cutting the cake.

The biggest piece for Mom, the second-biggest for Dad, the third for my brother.

I kept the last piece for myself.

I took a bite. It tasted exactly as it had when I was little.

Back then, my mother would wipe the cream from the corner of my mouth with her thumb. She'd laugh and say I looked like a kitten caught stealing cream.

Something warm came up my throat.

I looked down and saw a wide red stain spreading across the white frosting.

All my strength drained away, and I collapsed face-first onto the carpet.

Before I lost consciousness, I looked toward the operating room. I thought I heard a doctor saying the surgery was a success and my mother crying with joy.

I remembered the winter when I was ten and my brother carried me on his back to a checkup.

As he carried me, I asked, "Will you be with me on my birthday every year?"

He said, "Every year."

I closed my eyes.

The monitor let out one long, steady tone.

They'd never have to be there for my birthday again.