11 Birthdays Book Novels & Stories

Adrian asked. “Hmm! Well, my father will cook then I will bring it to school to celebrate with my classmate, then we will celebrate at home with only me and my parents. Our family of three. I never had the usual birthday party except when I was one and seven years old. Well, that was because they said that a person even if he can’t celebrate birthdays, needs to celebrate at least his birthdays when reach one, seven years old, and of course his debut or the so-called coming of age, when he reaches adulthood.” Ara replied.

WARNING The following chapter contains acts of physical, mental, and sexual abuse. These acts may be triggers to some readers. Please continue with caution. Birthdays are supposed to be a celebration of being alive. It is a reflection of living another year, and the accomplishments that go with it. Some see it as a time for reflection, looking back on how much you have grown as a person. I truly believe that no one thinks that they are going to come face to face with death on their birthday. Fate is a tricky beast though and sometimes she has to bite you in order to push you over the ledge and into your destiny.

because just then, in my head I was releaving my 11th birthday. How many times does one turn 11? Once.. and I guess a person should honestly embrace their birthday always right? As it symbolizes something big and beautiful... the birth of oneself. It sucked to me, I used to love birthdays so much and loved them less when my father passed away because he was burried the same month I died on, but the break dealer was what happened when I was 11 What was supposed to be the best holiday of my life turned to one horrific event that I'd never wipe away from my memory no matter how much I try not to.

“But smart people learn from them.” I stared at him. “How old are you?” “Six,” they said in unison. Six. Six years of bedtime stories I missed. Of scraped knees. Of first words, first steps, first days of school. Six years I would never get back. “And you?” I asked. “We can read chapter books,” one said proudly. “And we know multiplication.” “And planets,” the other added quickly. “Except Pluto. It’s complicated.” I actually laughed this time. A real laugh.

Aunt Nyssa had prophesied in our early childhood itself that we sextuplet siblings would find our mates, on our 19th birthday. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * // Note For The Readers: You can read ‘Don’t Bully Me, Alpha,’ to know more about Ryder's story but not reading it will not affect the flow of this story, so enjoy !

I muttered, earning a tired laugh from her. “Livana Isole Liveshade,” she said, using my full name now. “It’s your last day of school and your birthday. You are going.” Birthday. The thought pushed through the fog in my head. Eighteen. The age where everything was supposed to make sense, the age you met your mate, and the age people stopped looking at you like you were unfinished. I wanted all of that. Nothing dramatic. Nothing complicated. Just something normal. But thinking about it this early in the morning felt exhausting, so I rolled over again.

The house had never been quieter and yet never fuller. Elena had just turned seventeen, Leo was twelve, and Mae had recently celebrated her eleventh birthday with another explosion of color and creativity. Time had accelerated in ways Anya both cherished and mourned. Mornings that once rang with the thunder of small feet now carried the deeper tones of teenage music from Elena’s room, Leo’s science podcasts playing at full volume, and Mae’s endless humming as she sketched at the kitchen table.

The first page flipped open, revealing a photo of two toddlers—Jessica and Liam, small and grinning, sitting in a garden patch surrounded by spring flowers. “I haven’t looked through this in years,” Ms. Garvalle murmured, brushing her fingers across the page. “You had just turned three here… and Jessica was barely one. Always chasing you around, trying to keep up.” Liam gave a noncommittal grunt but leaned closer. Page after page flipped by—birthdays, family vacations, holiday dinners, first day of school. And then— They turned a page, and Ms. Garvalle froze. Liam’s brows knitted together. “What is it?”

I just wanted to sleep forever so I didn't have to hear them anymore. *** 17 YEARS AGO. It was my 11th birthday, but there was no cake, no balloons, and definitely no presents. I sat in my room, alone, in the same birthday outfit Mum had bought me two years ago for my 9th birthday. Back then, it had been way too big. The sleeves had swallowed my arms, and the pants hung off my waist like a parachute. I looked silly in it, but now, it fits perfectly—well, almost. The pants were a little tighter than I remembered, squeezing uncomfortably around my waist. But it was fine. I didn't mind. It wasn't like I had anywhere to go or anyone to see.

I said softly, “was of my birthday.” He shifted slightly behind me, but still didn’t speak. “I was maybe four? I remember I was so excited. I think I had this idea in my head that birthdays meant something magical. Like in the books I used to read. Cake. Balloons. A surprise.” I let out a soft breath. “But nothing happened. No one even said anything. My brothers got theirs—each one bigger than the last. I thought maybe I just misunderstood. Maybe it wasn’t my birthday after all. Maybe I got the date wrong.”