———

The apartment was dimly lit, the glow from the streetlights outside casting soft shadows across the walls. A candle flickered on the coffee table, its vanilla scent mixing with the warmth of Sariyah's space.

It had become a ritual now—D'kazi in her living room, the air between them thick with quiet understanding.

Sariyah curled up in the corner of the couch, her phone resting on her knee. She wasn't really looking at it, though. Not when she could feel the weight of D'kazi's silence pressing against her.

He hadn't spoken much since she mentioned his birthday.

Not that she expected him to.

But she noticed.

She noticed the way his fingers twitched when the date was brought up. How his jaw clenched at the mention of celebrations. How his entire posture stiffened when someone on the TV casually said the words "happy birthday."

She had seen people react to grief before. But this? This was something different.

D'kazi wasn't mourning a lost birthday.

He was avoiding it.

Like the very idea of it left a sour taste in his mouth.

She shifted slightly, turning toward him. He sat at the other end of the couch, hunched forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly together. His usual air of control seemed fragile tonight, as if he was holding onto something just beneath the surface.

"...You okay?" she asked softly.

His exhale was controlled. "Yeah."

She frowned. "You sure?"

He didn't answer.

Instead, his fingers flexed, his gaze trained on the floor like it held all the answers he wasn't willing to say out loud.

Sariyah sighed, putting her phone aside. "You know... just because you don't celebrate your birthday doesn't mean you have to spend it alone."

D'kazi's shoulders tensed.

She hesitated before continuing. "I'm not saying we do anything big. I'm just saying... you don't have to disappear that day."

His jaw clenched.

For a long moment, he said nothing.

Then, finally—

"...I don't know what to do with that."

Sariyah blinked. "With what?"

D'kazi exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. "With people who care."

Her chest tightened.

She wasn't sure what she had expected him to say. But that?

That wasn't it.

She studied him, the way he refused to look at her, the way his body remained locked, as if bracing for something unseen.

She had learned by now that D'kazi wasn't someone who let people in easily.

He had spent years on the outside, watching but never joining.

And maybe he didn't know how to.

Sariyah shifted, leaning forward slightly. "Well... you could start by letting yourself believe it."

D'kazi finally looked at her.

His dark eyes held hers, intense and searching, like he was trying to understand her.

Like he was trying to believe her.

Her pulse quickened.

She swallowed, breaking eye contact before the moment could stretch too long.

"Just think about it, okay?" she murmured.

D'kazi didn't respond right away.

But after a long moment—

He nodded.

And for now, that was enough.

---

---

D'kazi blinked, his mind snapping back to the present.

The scent of vanilla filled the air. The apartment was warm, safe.

Sariyah was watching him, waiting for something she hadn't even asked for.

He exhaled slowly.

His fingers curled into his palms, as if holding onto something only he could see.

"I should go," he muttered.

Sariyah's brows furrowed slightly.

"...Okay."

She didn't stop him.

She never did.

But as he stood, making his way toward the door, she spoke again—soft, but steady.

"D'kazi?"

He paused.

She hesitated, then said, "You don't have to disappear that day."

His chest tightened.

For a second, he thought about telling her.

About the blood.

The knife.

The ruined cake on the floor.

But instead—

He nodded once.

And left.