MACEY
I woke up with a strange, quiet kind of happiness humming in my chest. It was my birthday.
It wasn’t like I was expecting fireworks or some big romantic gesture — it was a Monday for God’s sake. I still had to show up at work, sit through meetings, reply to emails that made me question my life choices, and pretend to be an adult when all I wanted was to be in bed with coffee and a good book.
Still, there was something about birthdays that made everything feel lighter. Like maybe, just for one day, the world was a little softer.
By the time I’d brushed my hair and zipped up my dress, my phone was already buzzing. Calls, texts, voice notes. Mom’s voice came through first, all warm and emotional, talking about the day I was born like it had happened yesterday. Then my brother’s
