My birthday morning arrived wrapped in sunlight and noise.
My parents sang loudly and off-key. There were pancakes, candles, and way too many pictures. Everyone kept saying, "You're officially a teen now," like it was a huge announcement the world needed to hear.
I laughed, but inside, I kept checking myself.
Did I feel different?
At school, everything felt sharper. Louder. Like I was suddenly noticing things I hadn't paid attention to before. How people glanced at each other in the hallways. How some girls whispered and giggled when certain boys passed by. How even teachers seemed to treat us a little less like kids.
In math class, I looked up from my notebook and froze.
Ethan was looking at me.
Not staring—just looking. When our eyes met, he quickly glanced away, his ears turning pink. My heart started racing, and suddenly I couldn't focus on numbers anymore.
At lunch, Zara leaned closer. "You keep smiling," she said.
"I do not," I argued.
She grinned. "It's your birthday glow. Or maybe… something else."
I didn't answer, but I knew one thing for sure.
Thirteen didn't feel magical.
It felt like butterflies.