Lost in the dark

The unexpected gift

Next month was my birthday.

I had tried not to think about it, tried not to hope too much. Birthdays, for me, had always been small, quiet—mostly overlooked. But this year felt different. I had done well in my external exams. I had worked hard, stayed up late, studied when I didn’t feel like it, pushed through fatigue and distractions.

And my father noticed.

On the morning of my birthday, I woke to a small box on my desk. My heart fluttered. I didn’t know what to expect. With trembling fingers, I lifted the lid.

A phone.

A brand-new phone. My very first phone. The one I had dreamed about for months, imagined in my hands during late nights of study. I held it, feeling the smooth surface under my fingers, the weight of it like a promise.

I was overwhelmed. Joy bubbled inside me, so fierce I could barely contain it. I wanted to run around the room, shout, scream, laugh, cry—all at once.

It wasn’t just a gift. It was recognition. Reward. A tool. A door to the world I had been reaching for through books, exams, and long hours of study. My father had bought it for me because of my hard work. Because he believed in me.

I clutched the phone to my chest, and for a moment, the world felt perfect.

Then, almost immediately, Daniel came to mind.

The thought hit me like a wave I couldn’t hold back. The phone wasn’t just a tool for school—it could be the bridge to him. I could chat with him all day, sneak messages between classes, call him on the way home, laugh with him in secret. My mind raced with every little plan, every possible way to spend more time with him, to feel closer to him, to hear his voice.

Every corner of my thoughts, every quiet moment, every heartbeat—it was Daniel.

I wanted him. I wanted all of him.

And the phone made it possible.

That night, I lay awake, staring at the glowing screen. Tomorrow, I promised myself, I would take it to school. I would find a way to branch toward his house, to collect his number, to have him in my pocket, in my world, in every message I sent.

I felt a surge of excitement so intense that I could barely sleep. My heart beat fast, my hands shook a little. I was consumed with joy, with possibility, with that reckless, single-minded devotion that only fifteen-year-old love could carry.

I fell asleep clutching the phone, my mind full of him, dreaming of the next day, dreaming of the moment I would finally connect with Daniel through this little device, my first phone, my new treasure, my ticket to him.

The world outside didn’t matter. The school, the sun, the streets—all of it blurred. There was only him, and me, and the small glowing rectangle that had made it possible.