Velvet lies, crimson truth

Isla Caruso’s POV The house smelled sweet of cinnamon—just like Nonna. Warm, comforting, safe. If only the night would stay that way. It was my 19th birthday today, and it felt just like every other normal day. But Nonna always made sure we celebrated it the same way my parents used to—same style, same traditions. I appreciated her effort, but the nostalgia wasn’t the same. I tied my hair into a half-up, half-down style, securing the upper part with a yellow ribbon that matched my sundress. At least I wanted to make an effort today—to appreciate Nonna’s hard work for my so-called special day. I kept my makeup minimal, just a light gloss on my lips, then glanced at the mirror. Yeah, I look presentable. Stepping out of my room, I made my way downstairs, where my two best friends, Elena and Valerie, were already waiting. We had known each other forever—same elementary school, same middle school, and now, our last year of high school. Ever since I moved from Italy to Boston with my Nonna at six years old, after my parents’ tragic incident, they had been my closest friends. “Guess our princess is ready to cut her cake,” Valerie beamed, her eyes lighting up as she looked at me. I returned her smile, my cheeks flushing. I never liked being the center of attention, but I walked over to the velvet cake, decorated with strawberries and candles. “Happy Birthday, Principessa” was written on it in elegant cursive. Nineteen candles. I counted them. Nonna always made sure I had candles matching my age, just like when my parents were alive. I could only hope that by the time I turned thirty, she wouldn’t insist on keeping up the tradition—because at this rate, my cake might burn down from all the candles. “Make a wish,” Elena urged. I closed my eyes, took a breath, and blew out the candles in one go. Cheers erupted around me, their excitement making me smile for real this time. Then I noticed—Gabe wasn’t here. While Valerie and Nonna went to the kitchen to get paper plates and a knife, I turned to Elena. “Where’s Gabe?” She was already swiping frosting off my cake, licking it off her finger with a mischievous look. “Getting your present, dummy.” I sighed. “He doesn’t need to do that every year.” “You know Gabe,” she smirked. “He obviously loves you, even if you only see him as a childhood friend.” I rolled my eyes. “Don’t start.” “I’m just saying!” Elena laughed. Before I could respond, Valerie and Nonna returned with the plates. Just then, the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” I said, walking over. I opened the door to find Gabe standing there, holding a gift bag in his left hand. He was dressed in brown khaki pants and a black hoodie, his muscular frame partly hidden under the fabric. “Happy birthday, princess.” He handed me the gift, leaning in to place a polite kiss on my cheek before stepping inside. I followed behind him, shaking my head. “Stop calling me that.” He ignored me. “Okay, my princess. Roger that.” I shot him a playful glare as I set the gift bag on the table with the others. Now settled, we started cutting the cake, laughter filling the air. “You’re still coming to the club with us tonight, right, Isla?” Valerie asked, her eyes narrowing slightly, as if daring me to say no. I sighed. Here we go. “Come on, you’re nineteen!” Elena chimed in. “You need to have fun. Don’t dull out!” I wasn’t a fan of crowds, but they had planned this for me. They wanted to make this a big thing, even if I didn’t. “Fine,” I muttered. “But we’ll be back by one.” Elena and Valerie exchanged glances before bursting into laughter. “One?!” Valerie scoffed. “The night is just getting started by then.” “You know Nonna gave you permission to stay out late,” Elena added. “Still,” I insisted. Gabe leaned back in his seat. “But she’s still going. Isn’t that a good thing?” “Alright, alright.” Valerie raised her hands in surrender. “You know what? One AM it is. But on one condition.” I narrowed my eyes. “What condition?” She grinned. “You wear what I pick.” And just like that, I knew I was doomed. It was either spend the night her way—dressed like a “baddie”—or suffer until dawn, dragging my two drunk best friends home. Yeah, I’d take the dress. But something told me that no matter what I chose… this night was going to be a long one.