Morning sunlight spilled through the curtains, painting warm streaks across my bedroom wall. I groaned, rolling onto my back, the memory of last night flickering in my head.
The party.
The music.
The laughter with friends.
And then, him.
The man draped in black, standing in the alley behind the bakery. His voice, low and cold, still echoed in my ears.
"Get ready. Soon, it will be time for you to go."
I shivered at the thought, hugging the blanket tighter around me. Who was he? What did he mean? And how could someone disappear so fast, like smoke blown out by the wind?
For a moment, fear pinched at my chest. But I shook my head violently and sat up. No. I wasn't going to let some creep ruin my mood.
Because in two days… my life was going to change.
Eighteen. Finally.
Adulthood meant freedom. It meant no more of Grandma fussing over me like a child. No more neighbors ruffling my hair, calling me "little Aria." No more looking out the bakery window at girls my age going to clubs, festivals, and trips while I stayed kneading dough and dusting sugar over bread.
At eighteen, I was going to live.
I smiled at the thought, leaping out of bed. My toes curled against the cool wooden floor as I slipped into a simple dress and tied my hair into a messy braid. The scent of baking bread already drifted up from the shop downstairs, warm and sweet. My stomach growled.
Downstairs, the familiar sight greeted me: Grandma at the counter, her hands moving with practiced ease as she shaped dough, flour smudged across her cheek.
"There you are, sleepyhead," she teased, without looking up. "I thought I'd have to come drag you out of bed."
"Not today," I said brightly, grabbing an apron from the hook. "I feel… different today."
"Different, hmm?" Grandma raised a brow.
I grinned, lowering my voice dramatically.
"Two days. Then I'm officially an adult."
She chuckled, shaking her head. "You'll always be my little girl, Aria. Adult or not."
I laughed, slipping beside her to help knead. The soft, pliable dough stuck to my fingers, and I worked it rhythmically, enjoying the simple peace of it.
The bakery soon filled with the morning rush. Neighbors stopped by for loaves, children pressed noses against the glass to stare at the pastries. My best friend, Lila, burst through the door at some point, her curly hair bouncing wildly.
"Aria!" she squealed. "Two days! Are you ready? Because I have plans."
I rolled my eyes. "Lila, you always have plans."
"Yes, but these are birthday plans." She wagged her brows dramatically. "And let me tell you, you're going to love them."
Grandma sighed knowingly. "As long as they don't involve trouble."
Lila pressed a hand over her heart. "Trouble? Us? Never."
We all burst out laughing, the sound filling the little bakery with warmth.
And for hours, I didn't think about last night. I didn't think about the stranger, or his chilling words, or the way he'd vanished like a shadow.
But later that evening, after the shop closed and I sat outside under the fading orange glow of the sun, I felt it again.
That… shift.
The air seemed sharper somehow, every sound louder. I could hear the wings of birds flapping high above. I could smell the dampness of the soil, the sweetness of flowers blooming several houses away. Even the wind carried layers of scents I'd never noticed before.
It was as though my senses had cracked open wider, pulling the world in.
I shook my head quickly, hugging my knees to my chest. I'm just imagining things. That's all. Birthday jitters. Excitement.
Still, unease coiled in the pit of my stomach.
"Aria!" Grandma called from inside. "Time for supper!"
I jumped up, brushing the thoughts away.
Because no matter what strange things I felt, nothing could overshadow what was coming.
Two more days.
Two more days until freedom, until adventure.
And whatever destiny had in store for me, I was ready to meet it with open arms.
Or so I thought.