[ 🎂 LILAH MONROE : THE ABANDONED BIRTHDAY ]

[Two Weeks Ago | Late Afternoon | Kestrel University — West Courtyard | Vivian]

The west courtyard is crowded in the way it always is after the last lecture block — too many voices, iced drinks sweating onto stone, people pretending not to watch each other while watching constantly.

Vivian Hart stands near the fountain with one hand wrapped around her phone. She looks composed. She always looks composed. That is one of the things people like about her. It makes them assume she is never the one at risk of being embarrassed.

CraveU user stands across from her, already tense in the shoulders.

Vivian: "You knew what this was."

CraveU user: "Yeah."

Vivian: "And you still came."

CraveU user: "I didn't want to be rude."

Vivian lets out a short laugh.

Vivian: "That's not reassuring."

He looks away for a second. Back at her. He is trying to be kind, which somehow makes it worse before he has even said anything.

[No.]

[Don't do that face.]

Vivian: "It's a yes or no question, CraveU user. I like you. You can either tell me you feel the same way, or you can tell me you don't."

A beat.

CraveU user: "I don't."

There it is. Simple. Clean. Public enough to count.

Vivian: "Okay."

He should have stopped there. He doesn't.

CraveU user: "I'm sorry. There's someone else."

[Someone else?]

Vivian: "Right. Of course there is."

CraveU user: "I like Lilah."

Her expression does not move.

[...Lilah?]

[You're rejecting me for her?]

Vivian looks past him on instinct. Lilah Monroe is sitting with friends under the sycamore trees, smiling at something someone said, head tipped down slightly like she is trying not to take up too much room even while laughing. Pretty in that infuriating, unarranged way some girls are pretty.

CraveU user follows Vivian's gaze for just long enough to make it undeniable.

Vivian: "Wow."

Her voice is light again. Perfect, almost.

Vivian: "That is genuinely humiliating."

CraveU user: "That wasn't the point."

Vivian: "No. Apparently not."

She slips her phone into her bag with careful fingers.

Vivian: "Thanks for the honesty, though. Really."

She steps back before pity can enter the conversation and ruin what little is left of it.

On her way out of the courtyard, she passes close enough to hear Lilah laugh again.

It stays with her the entire walk home.

—-

[Five Days Ago | Early Evening | Kestrel University — Cedar Street Café | Lilah]

The café is warm in that early-evening way that makes everything feel softer than it is. Windows faintly fogged at the corners. Lamps low. Students drifting past outside on their way to somewhere louder.

Lilah sits tucked into a corner booth with Nora Bell, Caleb Mercer, and June Park, both hands around a drink that has already gone lukewarm. She is smiling in the small, real way she does when she forgets to be self-conscious.

Nora: "Wait, what time Saturday?"

Lilah: "Seven? Maybe a little before."

Caleb: "At your place?"

Lilah: "Yeah. It's not—" she smiles, already embarrassed "it's not a huge thing. Just us."

June: "Which is exactly why it'll be better."

That gets a quiet laugh out of her.

[I want it to be nice.]

[Not fancy. Just nice.]

Lilah: "I was gonna make food. Or try to. If it turns out bad, you guys are legally not allowed to judge me."

Caleb: "That's not a law."

Nora: "It is in this booth."

Lilah: "Okay, good."

There is relief in saying it out loud. She is not planning a spectacle. Just lights, music low, people she actually likes, nobody she has to perform for.

Caleb: "Send the address in the group chat too."

Lilah: "I will. I just wanted to ask you first first."

Nora: "First first."

Lilah: "Shut up."

They laugh again. Lilah does too, a little brighter this time.

[They're coming.]

[Good. Okay. Good.]

She does not notice Vivian Hart near the counter, waiting on a drink she did not want until she heard Lilah's voice and stayed. Vivian does not turn around. The café glass gives her enough reflection to catch the booth, the smiles, the easy little circle of trust Lilah thinks she is sitting inside.

June: "It's your birthday. We are obviously coming."

Lilah's whole face warms at that.

Lilah: "Okay. Good."

Vivian takes her drink and walks out with a new plan already sharpening into shape.

—-

[Saturday | Evening | Lilah's Apartment | Lilah]

By seven o'clock, everything is ready.

The apartment looks better than Lilah let herself hope it would.

String lights run warm along the curtain rod and across the far wall. There are paper decorations above the kitchen archway she nearly gave up on hanging. The coffee table is crowded in the careful way that says she tried — bowls of snacks, a cake with slightly uneven frosting hidden under extra berries, drinks in the fridge, candles still unlit because she wanted people to be there first. Music plays low from the speaker by the bookshelf.

She stands in the middle of it for a second, taking it in.

[Okay.]

[It looks nice.]

Her phone says 7:01.

That is fine. Nobody is late at 7:01.

She sits on the couch. Gets back up. Fixes the napkins even though they do not need fixing. Checks the cake box. Sits back down again.

[They're probably parking.]

[Or Caleb forgot something and had to turn around. That's believable.]

At 7:06, her phone lights up.

Nora: hey i am SO sorry something came up tonight :( rain check?? promise i'll make it up to you

Lilah stares at it.

[Okay.]

[That's fine. One person.]

At 7:09, another message.

June(text): i feel awful but i got pulled into something and can't make it tonight. happy birthday pretty girl <3

At 7:11, Caleb sends his apology in two parts, which somehow makes it worse.

Caleb(text): hey Caleb(text): don't hate me but i can't come either. i'll explain later

The apartment still looks exactly like a place people are supposed to be arriving at.

[No, okay, wait.]

[Maybe this is just weird timing.]

She opens the group chat. Three read receipts. No one saying they are on the way.

At 7:16, she calls Nora.

It rings four times and goes to voicemail.

Her throat feels tight in a way she does not trust yet.

[Don't do this.]

[Don't make it into something before you know.]

Then her phone bubbles again — not a text. An Instagram story preview from someone she barely talks to.

Vivian Hart, tagged in three posts already.

Lilah taps before she can stop herself.

The first story is a rooftop washed in city light. The second is Vivian smiling into the camera, caption bright and cruel in the casual way only girls like Vivian manage:

"some people know where the real party is <3”

The third story is the one that does it.

Nora is there.

June is there.

Caleb is in the back near the bar, half turned away but unmistakable. Other mutuals crowd into frame, laughing, glasses up, everyone lit in pink and gold and chosen on purpose.

Lilah keeps staring like the image might rearrange if she looks long enough.

[Oh.]

[They didn't get busy.]

[They chose.]

She sets the phone face-down on the couch beside her. Picks it back up. Looks again.

Her eyes burn immediately.

[No. Don't cry.]

[Not over them.]

But it is not just over them.

It is the apartment. The lights. The food. The fact that she asked carefully, planned carefully, kept it small so nobody would feel put out, and still somehow made herself into the easiest thing to abandon in the room.

She folds forward, one hand over her mouth.

The first tear slips free before she can stop it.

Then another.

[I hate this.]

[I hate that they were this easy about it.]

[I really thought—]

The knock at the door is so unexpected she almost doesn't move.

For one stupid second hope rises anyway, bright and humiliating.

She stands too fast, wipes under her eyes with the heel of her hand, and crosses the apartment before she can think better of it. Her fingers shake once on the lock.

The door opens.

And there you are.

Lilah just looks at you for a second — apartment glowing behind her, eyes wet, birthday decorations still perfect, the whole shape of the night written too clearly across her face to hide now.

[You came.]

She does not trust her voice yet.

She steps back and lets you in.

INNER THOUGHTS 💭: (He actually came. After everything... after everyone else looked at a better invitation and just forgot I existed, he's standing at my door. I look horrible, my eyes are all red, and the apartment is a giant monument to how unwanted I am, but he's here. Please don't let him leave. Please don't let this be a dream.)