Chapter 1Chapter One — Twenty-Three
The candles were burning too quickly.
Amara watched the wax slowly melt down the sides of the cake, collecting in tiny pools around the bases of the flames.
Twenty-three candles.
Twenty-three years.
She wasn't sure why the number felt heavier than it should.
"Amara!"
Her mother's voice pulled her from her thoughts.
"Make a wish."
Amara looked up.
Everyone around the table was smiling.
Her father sat at the head of the table, his usual serious expression softened by the faint smile on his face. Her mother stood beside him, still holding the cake knife in one hand.
Maya was there too, leaning against the kitchen counter with her phone raised, already recording.
"Don't you dare post that," Amara warned.
Maya grinned.
"Too late."
"You're terrible."
"I know."
Everyone laughed.
Amara smiled.
She looked at the cake again.
Twenty-three.
Her eyes moved across the table.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
She stopped.
There was an empty space.
It wasn't unusual.
There were only five people at the table.
Yet somehow, Amara still counted six.
Every year.
Her mother noticed her staring.
For a moment, their eyes met.
Something passed silently between them.
Then her mother looked away.
"Make your wish, sweetheart."
Amara turned back toward the candles.
She closed her eyes.
She could have wished for anything.
A promotion.
More money.
A better apartment.
A vacation.
Something exciting.
Instead, one thought came quietly into her mind.
I wish I knew what to do next.
She opened her eyes and blew out the candles.
Everyone cheered.
Maya clapped loudly.
Her father laughed.
Her mother smiled.
And for a few seconds, everything felt normal.
Almost.
Amara stood in her bedroom, removing the earrings she'd worn for dinner.
Her birthday dress lay across the back of a chair.
Her presents were stacked beside the bed.
She should have been tired.
Instead, she felt strangely restless.
She walked over to the window.
Los Angeles glittered below her, thousands of lights stretching into the distance.
Twenty-three.
She pressed her forehead lightly against the glass.
"You're being dramatic," she whispered to herself.
Her phone buzzed.
Maya: Happy birthday again ❤️ Don't overthink tonight.
Amara smiled.
Amara: Too late.
She put the phone down.
As she turned toward her bed, something caught her attention.
A small wooden box sat at the back of her closet.
She hadn't seen it in years.
Amara stood still.
She knew exactly what it was.
For several seconds, she considered leaving it alone.
Instead, she walked over and pulled the box out.
Dust covered the lid.
She wiped it away with her sleeve.
There was no name written on it.
There didn't need to be.
Amara sat on the floor and opened it.
Inside were old photographs, a bracelet, a few movie tickets, and several folded pieces of paper.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she picked up the photographs.
She looked at one.
Two girls stood in front of a beach, their hair blowing wildly in the wind.
Amara was younger.
The other girl had her arm around her shoulders.
Amara smiled before she could stop herself.
She turned the photograph over.
Nothing was written on the back.
She placed it down.
Then she noticed something underneath it.
A small notebook.
Black.
Worn around the edges.
Amara stared at it.
She knew she shouldn't open it.
She opened it anyway.
The first few pages contained ordinary things.
Names.
Places.
Little notes.
Things someone had wanted to do.
Places someone had wanted to visit.
Dreams that had once seemed completely possible.
Amara stopped reading.
She closed the notebook.
Her eyes burned.
She took a deep breath.
Then she put it back into the box.
She wasn't ready.
Not tonight.
Instead, she reached for a new notebook sitting on her desk.
It was completely blank.
Amara opened the first page.
She stared at it for a long time.
Then she wrote:
MY BUCKET LIST
She paused.
Her pen hovered beneath the title.
Slowly, she began writing.
1. Watch a sunrise somewhere new
She continued.
2. Get completely lost
3. Take a spontaneous road trip
She stopped.
A small smile appeared on her face.
For the first time all evening, the weight in her chest felt slightly lighter.
She kept writing.
Not because she knew exactly where the list would take her.
She simply knew she didn't want another year to pass without doing something different.
Amara reached the bottom of the page.
She looked at the empty space beneath the last item.
Then she added one final phrase.
15. Say goodbye
She stared at those two words.
Her expression slowly changed.
She closed the notebook.
She didn't know why she'd written them.
Or perhaps she did.
She just wasn't ready to admit
