Work Text:
She didn’t understand. She did everything right. She decorated the invitations, she personalized them, she even wrote cute messages for each person, trying to make them feel special. Thirty-three kids from her third-grade class were invited. So how had no one showed up?
It had been four hours since the party started and none of her classmates were here.
The young ravenette sat among the balloons and streamers, her hands twisting her long hair in tight, nervous knots. The cake, untouched and too perfect, sat in front of her like a taunt, the brightly colored frosting mocking her. She tried not to look at it, but every glance felt like another stab of humiliation. Her stomach twisted, and she had to fight the urge to yank her hair in frustration.
She could hear her mother and aunt talking behind her. They were trying to be quiet, but she caught every word.
“Do you think we should just cut the cake?” Her aunt’s voice was gentle, filled with concern. She’d always been softer, kinder. Her mother, on the other hand...
“With no other children here? What sort of party is that?” Her mother’s voice dripped with disdain, the same tone she always used when she was angry. The young girl flinched, her hand instinctively grasping at the small silver cross around her neck. She knew what was coming next.
“Damn child,” her mother muttered bitterly. “She’s been neglecting her prayers, and now God is punishing her.”
The girl’s fingers dug further into the cross around her neck. Was that it? Was this punishment? She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to cry, but the tears were already burning her eyes. She had tried to be good. She had prayed every night. But maybe... maybe it wasn’t enough.
Her aunt sucked her teeth, clearly frustrated. “Caroline, how can you say that? She’s a gift, you know, a gift to you from heaven itself. You should be thankful—”
“You just say that because you’re barren,” Her mother shot back, her voice dripping with cruelty. “Children are a burden: a burden to carry and a burden to raise. You wouldn’t understand that.”
Burden. That word hit her like a punch to the chest. She could feel her fingers pulling harder at her hair, twisting and tugging. She had done her best to stop after Auntie Simone said it was bad, but right now, the anxiety, the shame—it was all too much.
She’d heard this conversation before. Not these exact words, but the message was always the same. Everything was her fault. Always her fault. Even this, her own birthday, had turned into a reminder of how much of a burden she was.
Her mother didn’t want her, never had. And now, it seemed like even God didn’t either.
Her aunt’s voice cut through the tension, her voice firmer. “Caroline, that’s enough. How can you talk about her like that?”
However, her mother didn't let up, "Easy. You have no idea, my child can't even walk around her room quietly, a difficult, frustrating burden. And you yourself, a burden on this Earth. Women without children serve no purpose, they only serve to continue to drain the world."
There was a slap, sharp and sudden. The ravenette winced but didn’t turn around. She knew better.
“How dare you,” Her aunt snapped. “You dare insult me and then belittle your own daughter? You’re sick, Caroline.”
Her mother laughed, a cold, bitter sound that sent chills down the girl’s spine. “Punishment comes in all forms, Simone. Maybe you weren’t faithful enough, and that’s why you’re childless at forty.”
Tears finally spilled down her cheeks as she twisted her hair even tighter, her hands trembling. Why couldn’t she just disappear? Maybe if she pulled hard enough, she’d feel something different, something that wasn’t this awful ache in her chest.
Suddenly, her aunt was by her side, pulling her out of her chair with surprising force. “Let’s go, sweetheart,” She said, her voice gentle despite the anger simmering beneath the surface. The girl blinked up at her in confusion, her fingers still tangled in her hair.
“Where do you think you’re going with my daughter?” Her mother’s voice was full of outrage, but her aunt didn’t even flinch.
“I’m taking her to celebrate her birthday the way she deserves.” Her aunt said, her grip tightening protectively around the girl’s hand. “She’s not some doll you can use for you to project your insecurities on.”
Her mother’s face twisted with fury. “You will not take her anywhere!”
Her aunt didn’t hesitate. She shoved her mother aside, not caring for the dramatic scream that followed as her mother hit the ground. “Call the police if you want. I’m done listening to your misery,” She muttered, pulling the girl toward the door.
Outside, the air felt lighter, but the tension still clung to the ravenette like a shadow. They climbed into the car, the roar of the engine drowning out the angry shouts from the house.
For a while, the only sound in the car was the hum of the highway beneath them. The young girl twisted her hair absentmindedly, the motion familiar and comforting despite Auntie Simone’s earlier warnings.
After what felt like forever, the girl finally spoke, her voice soft and barely audible. “…Auntie Simone?”
Her aunt cast a quick glance in her direction before focusing back on the road. “Yes, dear?”
“Where… where are we going?”
The older woman smiled, but the sadness in her eyes wasn’t lost on the girl. “Wherever you want, sweetheart. It’s your birthday, after all.”
“Oh.” The girl fell into silence again, her fingers twisting her hair. She could feel the familiar knot of nerves forming in her chest. Despite the calmness of her aunt's words, something inside her still felt unsettled.
“…Auntie Simone?”
“Yes, dear?”
“…Can I tell you where I don’t want to go?”
Her aunt didn’t respond right away. When she finally spoke, her tone was gentle, but a shadow of concern hovered beneath the surface. “Of course, darling.”
The girl swallowed hard, her throat constricting with fear. She realized she was twisting her hair harder now, almost painfully. “I don’t want to go back there. I… I can’t.”
Her aunt paused for a brief moment before nodding. “Of course, dear. I’ll do everything I can.”
The silence grew heavier as they drove, the open road stretching far behind them. The girl’s twisting became tugging, her mind racing with words she couldn’t yet say.
Without a word, her aunt reached over, placing her hand over the girl’s, gently stopping the frantic motion. “Sweetheart, don’t hurt yourself. What’s wrong?” Her voice was calm, but edged with worry.
Tears welled up in the girl’s eyes, her heart pounding from the sheer weight of what she needed to confess. “I’m scared…”
The older woman glanced at her again, her face steeling with determination. “Don’t be. I won’t let your mother—"
“No, it’s not about her,” The girl interrupted, catching herself as her hand instinctively moved to her hair again. She hesitated, then lowered her hand, taking a deep breath. “It’s about… me. I’m scared you won’t like me anymore if I say it.”
Auntie Simone’s face softened instantly. Without hesitation, she pulled the car over to the side of the road, her hands coming to rest on the girl’s cheeks, her gaze intense but filled with love.
“Listen to me, sweetheart,” She said, her voice unwavering. “There is nothing you could ever say that would make me stop loving you. Nothing. Do you understand?”
The girl’s bottom lip trembled as she nodded. Tears slid down her cheeks, but this time they were less about fear and more about relief. Her aunt let her hands fall away but kept her eyes on her.
“…Auntie Simone?”
“Yes, dear?”
The girl’s voice quivered, almost too quiet to hear, but she forced the words out. “I… I think I want to be a boy.”
Silence. Deafening and thick. The girl’s heart felt like it was going to leap out of her chest. She closed her eyes, waiting for something, anything—rejection, disappointment, maybe even worse.
But then… Her aunt laughed.
It wasn’t a mocking laugh, but a soft, almost relieved sound, as though something heavy had been lifted from her heart.
“Oh, sweetheart,” She said, her voice warm like sunlight. “Is that what you were so afraid of? You had me worried for nothing.”
The girl—no, the boy—opened his eyes slowly, blinking through his tears to see his aunt smiling at him, the love in her eyes stronger than ever. Her hand reached out, gently brushing through his dark hair.
“That’s perfectly fine, dear. More than fine. And you know what? I’ll be here for whatever you need. How about we start with a haircut?”
For the first time in what felt like forever, the young boy smiled. The weight he had carried for so long felt lighter, as if his aunt had lifted it from his shoulders. She really was his gift from God.
A rumble of thunder snapped Simon out of his reverie, fat drops of rain starting to pelt down from the dark sky. He sighed, pulling his coat tighter against the cold as if that could protect him from the sudden downpour. Of course, he hadn’t thought to bring an umbrella.
“Haha, still as unlucky as ever, am I, Auntie?” His voice cracked just a little, but there was no one to notice.
There was only silence. Not that he expected anything else. Simon gently placed the bouquet of flowers he’d brought on the marble grave, the rain already soaking through the petals.
“I’m 33 now, Auntie... It’s been a while, huh?” Fifteen years, to be exact. Fifteen years since ovarian cancer had taken her—the only real family he’d ever had. His voice lowered, “I miss you every day, you know? I don’t think I ever really thanked you for everything you did for me...”
Simon reached up to wipe his glasses. He wasn’t sure whether it was rain or tears blurring his vision, but both felt fitting.
“Things have changed a lot. I’m employed again,” he said, though he felt his stomach twist at the thought. “Though by... dubious means.” His lips tightened as the familiar memories of the death loop flickered in his mind. The nightmares of waking up, trapped again and again, flashed for a second too long. “Still, it seems worth it. More pay, better benefits, I guess that’s something, right?”
He forced a smile, imagining his aunt standing in the kitchen, apron tied around her waist, ready to congratulate him. She’d have smiled, her eyes crinkling with pride, maybe even pinched his cheek like she always used to. Then they’d bake a cake together for his birthday, taking turns icing it while she bragged to all her friends about what a smart, capable young man her nephew had become.
His smile faltered, and he wiped his glasses again—this time knowing it was tears.
“I miss you so much, but—”
“Hey, newbie!”
Simon jumped at the sudden shout, startled to his core. He whipped around, eyes widening. What the hell were his coworker and his supervisor doing here?
Norman, his supervisor, was strolling up the path with that same eerily calm smile, a large black umbrella perched over his head. Behind him, Chase trailed with his usual nonchalance, as though strolling through graveyards in the rain was part of his daily routine.
“Wh-What? How did you—?” Simon stammered, completely thrown off by the bizarre appearance.
Norman gave a light laugh, his voice carrying over the rain like it wasn’t unusual at all. “Come now, Simon. All company employees are required to have a location chip in their shoulders at all times~ Don’t you remember your required vaccinations~?” His smile didn’t waver, and Simon felt his heart drop.
That’s what those were for?
“I see you weren’t briefed.” Norman’s grin grew slightly as if relishing in Simon’s bewilderment. “Not to worry. I’ll make sure the nurse who handled your case is reprimanded immediately.”
That smile widened just enough to make Simon’s skin crawl. He quickly nodded, eager to end this surreal conversation.
“Sooo, whose grave is this?” Chase crouched down next to Simon, holding his green umbrella at such an awkward angle that all the trapped rainwater spilled directly onto Simon’s head. The shorter male clenched his jaw, wiping his glasses for the third time as cold droplets dripped down his face.
Suddenly, the rain stopped. Simon looked up, surprised to see Norman standing directly beside him, holding his umbrella overhead.
“Best to keep you dry,” Norman murmured, his voice deceptively soft. “We wouldn’t want you missing another day of work, would we?”
Of course. That was the only reason for this sudden act of generosity. Simon gave a curt nod, knowing better than to say anything more.
Chase squinted at the grave marker, sounding more confused than ever. “‘Simone Del Rosario’... Wait, that’s your last name, right? And kinda your first name, now that I think about it...”
Norman, on the other hand, seemed to catch on faster. He knelt down beside Simon, his umbrella still hovering protectively over them both. “A family member?” Norman asked, his voice surprisingly softer now. The usual sinister undercurrent was gone, leaving what seemed to be genuine curiosity.
Simon swallowed hard, glancing back at the grave. “Yeah... she was like a mother to me.” His voice softened, the weight of the memory pulling at him. “She raised me from when I was eight until she passed when I turned eighteen. Every year, I come here on my birthday. It’s the least I can do to honor her.”
For the first time that day, a small, genuine smile appeared on his face. He thought of all the times his aunt had supported him, every sacrifice she’d made for him, every moment of warmth in an otherwise cold world.
Norman and Chase exchanged a glance, but remained silent.
The awkward quiet lingered for a few moments before Chase stretched, sending another spray of water in Simon’s direction. “Crazy story, newbie. Anyway, we should get going. We’re gonna be late.”
Simon blinked in confusion. “Late? For what?”
Norman stood up smoothly, offering Simon a gloved hand. “It’s company policy to celebrate the birthday of each employee. We’ve arranged a small celebration for you. Cake and all.” His eyes glittered as he added, “I went to considerable effort to make this excursion an offsite one and to track you down.”
Simon’s breath hitched, a shiver running down his spine. He wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or from Norman’s words. “Thank you sir...”
“Don’t forget to thank your coworker as well,” Norman replied with an amused glint in his eyes. “Chase is the one who ordered the cake. He spent quite a bit of money on it, or so he claims.”
Simon chuckled as they began to walk. Of course Chase would brag about that. But as they departed, Simon cast one last glance at the grave, giving a small smile at the things left behind before departing.
Tucked neatly among the flowers, shielded from the rain, lay a party invitation. In delicate cursive, it bore a heartfelt letter addressed to the dearly departed:
Dear Auntie Simone,
Thank you for being there for me when no one else was. For always believing in me, even when I couldn’t believe in myself.
I’m ready now. Ready to stand on my own, just like you always said I would be one day.
In your honor, I’ll carry a part of your name with me, a reminder of everything you’ve done for me and the love I’ll never forget.
I miss you every day, but I promise, I’ll make you proud.
With all my love,
Your neph son,
Simon Del Rosario