Thea's hand clenched in her lap as she stared sightlessly at the tiered red velvet birthday cake. She'd slipped into her blue satin dress, twisted her hair up in ornate ropes of curls, and donned the pearls her mother had gifted her that morning. Picture perfect like she'd been raised to be, she could have been splashed in the society pages without critique.
Except for the fact that she couldn't muster even the hint of a smile. As her friends and family sang a familiar, droning melody, two voices were absent: her father's rich, soothing baritone, which had lulled her to sleep as a child, and her brother's purposefully goofy, off-pitch warbling. Her mother had always scolded Ollie for it, but to Thea, his singing had been the best thing ever. Thea's mum had been fighting a losing battle when all Ollie had to do was look at Thea's beaming face to get all the encouragement he needed.
Fourteen candles flickered steadily through the dark room, and all she could think to wish for was them. Ever since the Gambit sunk, every thought – awake or asleep – circled back to whether they were alive.
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and blew out the candles. Let them be safe, she thought. Bring them home to us.
Yet she knew that by this stage, the chance of survival was infinitesimal. And no amount of hoping and wishing and praying could bring two men back from the dead.
Nevertheless, she wished, and she hoped for the impossible.
And when she opened her eyes to the sight of Raisa cutting the cake into perfectly sized pieces, and her father and Ollie still weren't there, her heart sank further despite itself.