Chapter 10
I Didn't Tell Him. But He Found Out Anyway.
I didn't want to tell anyone it was my birthday.
Not because I hate birthdays.
But because I didn't want the attention.
Or the questions.
Or… him.
Especially not him.
If Keifer found out, he'd probably write a song about it, perform it at lunch, and throw glitter in my face.
So I stayed quiet.
Just another day. Just another Thursday.
Or so I thought.
Turns out, you can't hide anything in Section E.
By the time first period got cancelled (some seminar thing — thank god), half the class was yelling:
"IT'S JAY'S BIRTHDAY?!"
"YOU DIDN'T TELL US?!"
"FATIMA YOU TRAITOR!"
Fatima just giggled and said, "Oops."
I was mortified.
Our teacher was late, so the whole section decided to stay and hang out in the classroom.
Snacks were pulled from bags. Music played from someone's speaker.
And me?
I sat in the middle of it all — blushing, overwhelmed, trying not to look at him.
Of course, he looked.
Of course, he smiled.
Of course, Keifer found out.
He didn't say anything dramatic.
Just walked over, handed me a tiny note folded into a butterfly, and said:
"Happy Birthday, Jay."
I didn't open it until later.
It said:
"I know you didn't want me to know. But I'm glad I did."
Later that afternoon, my mom took me shopping.
It was the one tradition we always kept — just me and her, a mini birthday spree.
She didn't ask if I was happy.
She didn't ask about school.
But she let me pick whatever I wanted.
I bought three shades of lip tint.
A new eyeliner.
And a necklace — a small silver pendant with a butterfly on it.

Don't ask me why.
I just… liked it.
Maybe because it reminded me of the paper one Keifer made.
Maybe because it reminded me of how I feel whenever he's around.
Like something fluttering in my chest that I can't quite catch.
That evening, Fatima showed up at my door unannounced — birthday cupcake in hand.
"I'm here to give my dramatic speech," she declared.
"You never even sing Happy Birthday, what do you mean—"
"I'm your soulmate, don't question me."
We sat on the bed, shared the cupcake, and talked about everything — Zaid, school, my mom, him.
And then she stood up to leave.
And I said it.
Not loud.
Not planned.
Just barely enough to catch the air.
"I think I'm in love with him."
She froze.
Turned slowly.
"What?"
"I said—" I paused, voice shaking, "—I think I'm in love with Keifer."
Fatima's mouth fell open. "Are you serious?!"
"I'm serious."
She squealed.
I laughed. Then panicked. Then laughed again.
That day, I made a decision.
Not to confess.
Not to fall into his arms.
But to stop running.
From the way he made me feel.
From the truth I kept burying.
From me.
I was in love with him.
And for once, I wasn't afraid to admit it.
Not to her.
Not to myself.
End of Chapter 10.