Chapter 1 — The Birthday Wish

Lola

The Wishing Fountain was smaller than I’d imagined, tucked away in the furthest corner of the university’s botanical garden, as if it didn’t want to be found. Ivy spilled over its edges, curling down the weathered stone like hesitant fingers reaching for the earth. The hydrangeas that framed the fountain seemed too perfect, their pale blue and lavender hues like something out of a dream. The soft trickle of water echoed through the secluded space, brushing against the stillness like a secret being whispered. For a moment, I hesitated, unsure what I was even doing there.

I shifted my weight from one sneakered foot to the other, the crunch of gravel beneath me breaking the silence. I knew the stories. Everyone on campus did. “Make a wish on your birthday,” they said. “Toss a coin into the fountain, and maybe—just maybe—it’ll come true.”

The kind of tale that thrived in late-night conversations and scrawled notes exchanged over coffee. Most people laughed it off. A few swore by it. Then there were people like me—people who didn’t believe but still found themselves standing there, clutching a tarnished coin as if it held all the answers I was too afraid to ask for.

I looked down at the coin in my palm, the ridged edges pressing against my skin. It wasn’t anything special—just a penny I’d fished out of the bottom of my bag. But it felt heavier now, as if it carried every unspoken hope I’d ever had. The faintest vibration seemed to hum from it, almost imperceptible, like the coin itself was waiting for something.

I glanced around. No one came to the fountain during the day; it was too hidden, too much effort to find unless you needed it. And I suppose I needed it.

“What am I even doing?” I murmured, my voice barely louder than the trickling water. The words felt silly, too fragile to exist in the open air. But the silence pressed in until I couldn’t hold them back any longer.

“I wish…” My throat tightened, and I curled my fingers around the coin, its cool surface biting into my palm. The words had been coiled inside me for years, knotted too tightly to untangle. Saying them out loud felt impossible—but also necessary.

“I wish someone would see me,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Really see me. Love me for me.”

For a second, the air seemed to still, holding its breath alongside me. My chest tightened as the words settled into the space around me, fragile and exposed. The coin felt warmer—or maybe that was just me. Either way, my fingers unclenched, and I let it go.

The coin arced through the air, catching the dappled sunlight, and disappeared into the water with a soft plink.

Nothing happened. The fountain didn’t shimmer with magic. The water didn’t glow. The coin sank, and the quiet hum of the garden resumed, indifferent to my wish.

I stepped back, wrapping my arms around myself as a cool breeze stirred the hydrangeas. For a second, I thought I heard something—a faint, low hum that seemed almost melodic. I froze, my gaze flicking back to the fountain. The carvings along its edge caught the light, their cryptic symbols seeming to shift, as though alive. But the ripples from my coin settled, and the fountain returned to its still, unremarkable state.

Shaking my head, I turned and walked away, the faint hum lingering in my thoughts like the ghost of a song.

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By the time I got back to the dorm, the quiet of the garden had been replaced by the buzzing chaos of Emily’s energy. She had a way of filling every corner of a room, even when she wasn’t talking—but tonight, she definitely was.

“Happy Birthday, Mouse!” she shouted the moment I stepped inside, using the nickname she’d insisted on since the day we met. “And before you say anything, no, I don’t care that you told me not to do anything. You’re twenty-one, which means celebrating is mandatory!”

The room looked like it had been ambushed by a craft store. Streamers hung haphazardly from the ceiling, the colors clashing in a way that was undeniably Emily. A cake sat on my desk—if you could call it a cake. It looked like it had been dropped at least once, but the lopsided frosting letters spelling “LO” made me smile despite myself.

“I told you—”

“I know what you told me,” she interrupted, pulling me into a hug before I could finish. “But you deserve something special. You’re the quiet, mysterious one in our little duo, which means it’s my job to make life exciting for you.”

I laughed despite myself. “Exciting doesn’t have to mean cake and streamers.”

Emily gasped as if I’d just insulted her life’s work. “How dare you? This cake is a masterpiece. I spent a full twenty minutes trying to pipe your name on it before I gave up and decided ‘LO’ was funnier.”

“It’s definitely something,” I said, squinting at the frosting. “Did you run out of space?”

“Details,” she said, waving a hand dramatically. Then, as if remembering something, she pointed to my bed. “Oh, and Zander stopped by earlier. Left you that.”

On my pillow sat a small package wrapped in brown paper, with a note attached in Zander’s unmistakable handwriting. I picked it up carefully, the familiarity of his neat script stirring something warm inside me.

“Are you going to open it, or should I?” Emily asked, practically bouncing on her toes.

I rolled my eyes and peeled back the paper, revealing a hardcover book with a deep green cover and gold lettering. Inside was one of Zander’s handmade bookmarks, pressed flowers arranged beneath the delicate loops of twine.

The note read: “Happy Birthday, Lola. Thanks for always being you. – X”

Simple. Thoughtful. So very Zander.

I traced the edges of the bookmark with my thumb, the warmth spreading through me. Zander always had a way of reminding me I mattered, even when I didn’t believe it myself. But even with his friendship, with Emily’s relentless enthusiasm, the knot in my chest refused to loosen.

“Earth to Lola?” Emily said, waving a hand in front of my face. “You okay? You’re doing that thing where you stare into space like you’re narrating a sad indie film.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I’m fine. It’s just… a lot.”

“A lot of love from your amazing friends?” she teased, grinning.

“Yeah. Something like that.”

Emily’s grin widened as she grabbed her phone. “Okay, one group selfie, and then I’m forcing you to eat cake.”

I groaned but let her pull me in for the photo, her curls brushing against my cheek as she held the phone out. I tried to smile, even as the weight inside me pulled heavier.

Later, when the streamers had drooped and Emily had gone to bed, I lay awake staring at the ceiling. The bookmark rested on my nightstand, its pressed petals catching the dim glow of my fairy lights.

My thoughts drifted back to the fountain, to the whispered wish that still felt too raw to think about. I wanted to believe it had meant something, that the faint hum I’d heard wasn’t just my imagination. But as I clutched the corner of the blanket tighter, all I could feel was the ache of wanting—wanting to be seen, to be known, to matter.

And in that quiet, lonely moment, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the coin I’d thrown into the fountain had sunk just like me.