No More Birthdays For Me

For five years, Ive lived in the shadow of a title that tasted like ash: The Cursed Heir.

It started because my best friend, Derek, died on my birthdayexactly one year to the day after my fiance, Cora, was killed in a tragic accident. They used to call me The Golden Boy with a wink and a smile, but after they were gone, that nickname became a leaden weight around my neck. A curse.

I spent every waking moment wondering if theyd still be here if I hadnt insisted on celebrating another year of my life.

I was at a private academy helping my nephew with his transfer paperwork when I saw her. A profile I would recognize in a crowded stadium. I froze, the air leaving my lungs in a sharp whistle.

The woman looked exactly like Cora.

I couldn't help myself; I followed her out to the parking lot. She was crouched down, her face set in a stern line as she lectured a small boy. "Zoey, you got into another fight today? If this keeps up, you can forget about dessert for a month."

The boy pouted, crossing his arms. "Cora, youre such a mean mom! She started it! You always take their side!"

Mom? Cora?

The world tilted on its axis. My heart didn't just break; it shattered. They weren't dead. They were alive, and they had a life together. They had a child.

"Uncle Adrian? What are you looking at?" My nephews voice pulled me back to the brutal reality.

Cora turned at the sound of my name. For a heartbeat, our eyes locked, and the expression on her face froze into a mask of pure, icy shock.

I stood there, paralyzed. My mind was a chaotic storm of emotions I couldn't categorize.

Should I be happy? Happy that I wasn't the "jinx" who had killed them? Or should I be devastated that they had staged the most gruesome betrayal imaginable just to get away from me?

Why?

Cora and I had grown up together. On her twentieth birthday, she had legally changed her middle name to match a poem I loved. She told me, "Our hearts are two threads woven into a single tapestry, Adrian. Well understand each other's souls forever."

The day before my birthday five years ago, she had whispered a promise: "Adrian, were going to celebrate every year together. Ill be the umbrella that keeps the rain off you."

But she was the one who brought the storm.

I searched for the exact moment she stopped loving me, but the memories were too painful to sift through.

The school bell rang, and the children scrambled back toward the building. Cora walked toward me. There was no shame in her stride, no stutter in her step. She looked at me with a terrifyingly familiar warmth.

"Golden Boy," she said softly. "You found us sooner than I expected."

A sharp, stabbing pain flared in my chest. To her, this was just a game of hide-and-seek. I took a ragged breath and looked her in the eye.

"When did it start?"

She tilted her head, looking genuinely thoughtful, as if we were discussing the weather. "Maybe it was that day you got into a fight for him. I realized then that a man who wasn't so... dominant... had his own kind of charm. Or maybe it was graduation, seeing him in that frayed, cheap shirt. It moved me."

She sighed, a mature, casual shrug of the shoulders. "Adrian, you can't predict what you'll love from one second to the next. Just like I used to hate the billionaire-heir type, but I still fell for you once."

Cora was always an expert at being both cruel and direct.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" I choked out. "Why fake your deaths? Why the secret marriage?"

"Because I knew you too well," she said, her voice devoid of regret. "Back then, you hadn't learned how to weigh love against interest. You were too impulsive. A public breakup would have ruined both our families and destroyed Derek's reputation."

She looked at my expensive suit, then back at my face. "But you've learned now. Otherwise, youd be calling the tabloids instead of standing here quietly."

She had calculated everything. Even my silence.

I wouldn't make a scenenot because I had learned "restraint," but because I was dying. I had six months left, and I didn't want to spend them screaming at ghosts.

I spent the rest of the afternoon in a quiet coffee shop, staring at the steam rising from a cup I didn't drink, wondering how to tell my parents about the diagnosis.

When I reached the front door of the family estate at dusk, I heard a childs laughter echoing from the drawing room. Confused, I paused by the door.

"Derek, take the child and leave through the side gate in five minutes," I heard my mother say. "Adrian said hed be home soon."

A heavy silence followed, then my fathers weary sigh. "What you did five years ago was too much. Adrian hasn't been happy for a single day since. Even if he isn't my biological son, it breaks my heart to see him like this."

"We'll make it up to him later," my father added, though he sounded unconvinced.

Dereks voicesoft, gentle, the voice of the brother I thought I'd lostreplied, "I know, Dad. Its my fault. Ill tell him everything soon."

The world went cold. Pieces of a puzzle I never wanted to solve clicked into place.

Why my mother was always insisting I bring Derek home for dinner. Why she looked like she was about to cry every time she saw him. Why she was always slipping him money under the table. The Barbie dolls Id occasionally find in the guest wing.

He was the biological son. I was the one who had been switched at birth.

And they had known about the "dead" lovers and the secret grandchild all along. They had watched me rot in guilt for five years while they played house with the "real" son behind my back.

A chilling numbness settled over me. At least I didn't have to worry about them being sad when I died. They didn't need me. They never did.

I pulled out my phone and sent a text to my oncologist: Im opting out of the chemo. Please cancel my next appointment.

Suddenly, the door handle turned. I couldn't face them. I turned and ran into the darkness, not stopping until I reached a deserted park. I sat on a bench and finally, mercifully, let the tears come.

There was no one left in this world who loved me.

Eventually, my legs went numb. I dragged myself back to the house that was no longer mine. My parents looked at me with varying degrees of guilt until my father finally cracked.

"Adrian... Derek... he didn't actually die."

They watched me, gauging my reaction. "He and Cora are married. They have a daughter."

When I didn't scream, my mothers voice sharpened, turning defensive. "Don't you dare blame him. You were the ones switched. He suffered through a life of poverty that should have been yours. Even if he 'stole' Cora, you're still the one with the trust fund and the title. You should be grateful."

Grateful. The word felt like a slap. I had no right to be angry. Anger is a luxury for those who are loved. I simply nodded.

They seemed taken aback by my composure.

"The school is a bit far from their place," my father said, though it wasn't a suggestion. "Theyre going to stay here with us for a while."

That night, Cora and Derek moved in. The house was suddenly loud, filled with their belongings and their laughter. My mother was in the kitchen, a tender smile on her face I had never seen before.

"Slow down, Derek," she cooed. "Let me finish the dishes. You've worked hard your whole life. Its time you were taken care of."

Cora sat on the velvet sofa, her eyes tracking me as I stood in the foyer. "Don't just stand there, Adrian. Come sit."

I didn't move. In the house I had lived in for twenty-six years, I felt like a trespasser.

Dinner was a spread of everything Derek loved. My mother kept piling food onto his plate, then ruffled Zoeys hair. "Eat up, sweetie. Your daddy didn't get to eat like this when he was your age."

Every word was a barb aimed at me.

Zoey looked up from his plate, staring at me with wide eyes. "Uncle, why aren't you eating? Do you hate us?"

The table went silent.

Derek put down his fork and offered a soft, rehearsed smile. "Don't be silly, Zoey. Uncle Adrian just has a small appetite."

I opened my mouth to speak, but my mother beat me to it. "Adrian, I thought you were being mature about this. If you're just going to sit there with that long face and try to make us feel guilty, then leave. Im begging you, stop being so dramatic for once."

My grip on my fork tightened until my knuckles turned white. A dull, throbbing pain bloomed in my chest. I shook my head, but a sudden, violent cough seized me.

My father sighed, a look of disappointment on his face. "Adrian, if the food isn't to your taste, your mother can make you something else."

I forced a smile and swallowed a mouthful of sandwich. It tasted like cardboard. "Its fine. Everything is fine."

Cora watched me, a flicker of somethingmaybe pitycrossing her eyes.

I retreated to my room as soon as I could. I locked the door and sank to the floor, the mask of "Golden Boy" finally crumbling. My phone buzzed.

Dr. Aris: Are you sure about this, Adrian? Without treatment, your timeline is very short. Chemo could give you at least another six months.

I stared at the screen for a long time before typing back: Thank you, Doctor. But Im ready to leave.

A knock at the door. I wiped my eyes and opened it.

It was Cora. She was holding a plate of dumplings. "You didn't eat much. These are the wild mushroom ones you used to love."

"I don't love them anymore," I said flatly.

As I moved to close the door, she reached out, knocking the phone from my hand. The screen was still glowing. She saw the message. Her eyes darkened.

"You're leaving?"

I scrambled to pick up the phone. She had only seen the last part. She looked at me, her voice dropping. "Because of me?"

I stepped back. "No. I just want to see other cities."

She wanted to say more, but I shut the door in her face.

The next day, I began clearing out my life. I found an old box filled with photos of Cora and me, and the necklace she gave me when she "confessed" her love. The pendant was a tiny gold heart. Back then, her world revolved around me. Back then, my parents loved me.

I put it all in a trash bag.

In the hallway, I ran into Zoey. He was playing with blocks on the floor. "Uncle, what are you throwing away?"

I knelt down and ruffled his hair. His warmth felt alien against my cold skin. "Just some old things that don't work anymore."

He blinked at me. "Do you hate me and Mommy?"

I looked at his facehe had Coras eyes. My heart softened. "No, Zoey. You're a good kid."

"Then why are you always sad?" He took my hand. "Daddy said you were a prince, and princes are always happy. Grandma said you were the luckiest person in the world because you had everything."

Prince. The word was a joke now. Everyone believed Adrian Ellington was the happiest man alive. No one wanted to see the truth.

My eyes blurred. I turned away so he wouldn't see.

Cora and Derek walked up. Seeing me with Zoey, Derek rushed over, his face tight with a panic I didn't understand. He scooped the boy up. "Zoey, don't bother your uncle. Hes... not well. He needs his rest."

He emphasized "not well" as if he were telling Cora I was faking it for attention.

Zoey looked at Cora. "Mommy, Uncle is crying. His hands are so cold."

Coras gaze landed on my face. She saw the redness in my eyes and froze. She lunged for the trash bag in my hand, and the necklace spilled out.

"You're throwing this away?" her voice was raspy.

"Yes," I said. "It serves no purpose."

She gripped the bag, her knuckles white. She looked angryor maybe she was grieving. "Adrian, how can you just let go?"

I let out a hollow laugh. "Cora, the past is dead. Im moving on. Why wouldn't I?"

"Moving on?" She scoffed. "You call this moving on? Looking like a ghost? Do you have any idea how much you're worrying everyone?"

I'm the one who ruined everything? I didn't answer. I just watched the light in her eyes flicker and die.

Derek pulled on her arm. "Cora, leave him. Adrian has been spoiled his whole life. Its natural he can't handle sharing the spotlight. Im fine with it. As long as I have you and a home, I can handle his moods."

I didn't bother explaining. I walked out of the house.

Cora chased me into the driveway, grabbing my wrist and pinning me against the brick wall. Her eyes were swimming with guilt. "Adrian, why are you acting like you're already dead?"

I pushed her away. I was so weak it barely moved her. "It doesn't matter, Cora."

As the words left my lips, blood began to pour from my nose. It wouldn't stop.

Cora panicked, her hands fluttering toward my face. "Are you sick? Adrian, what is this?"

I shook my head, wiping the blood with my sleeve. "Ive just been taking too many supplements. My blood is thin."

Before she could press further, Derek yelled from the porch. "Cora! Zoey is having a reaction! Hes asking for you!"

Cora looked at me, torn, then turned and ran back inside.

Once she was gone, I leaned against the wall and coughed into my hand. It came up crimson.

I went to the hospital and picked up a fresh bottle of painkillers. The doctor tried to argue for the hospital bed again. I just smiled.

"Chemo gives me six months of agony. This way, I get to leave quietly. These last few years have been hard enough. I'd like the end to be easy."

I stayed in a hotel that night. When I returned home the next morning, the entire family was waiting in the living room.

"Adrian, how could you?" my mother screamed, her eyes red.

For a second, I thought they knew. I thought they cared. "What... what happened?"

Cora looked at me with pure loathing. "Zoey nearly died yesterday. A severe peanut allergy."

"You knew Derek was allergic, too," my father added, his voice cold. "But you put peanut butter in the kids' snacks."

I looked at Derek. He wouldn't meet my eyes. I realized then that he was willing to risk his own daughters life just to ensure I was exiled forever.

"I didn't do it," I said. My voice was hollow.

My mother stood up and delivered a blow that sent me reeling. The slap echoed through the room. I hit the floor, my head spinning, fighting the urge to vomit blood right there on the rug.

My father moved to help me, but my mother stopped him. "No! Hes been spoiled into a monster. He tried to kill a child and he won't even admit it."

Tears dripped onto the hardwood. My mother spoke one last time. "I wish I had never raised you. I wish the hospital had never made that mistake."

She slammed the door as she left. My father followed.

After a long silence, Derek knelt beside me. His voice was dripping with fake sympathy. "Adrian, Zoey is going to be okay. Its fine. I know you didn't mean it."

Cora put a hand on his shoulder. "Go get some sleep, Derek. You were up all night at the ER."

When they left, I struggled to my feet and swallowed three painkillers.

"What are you taking?"

Cora was standing in the doorway. I didn't answer. She grabbed my arm, her eyes widening as she felt how thin Id become. "Adrian, you're skin and bones."

But her concern was quickly replaced by anger. "Zoey is an innocent child. If you hate me, take it out on me."

I am innocent, too, I thought. Why can't anyone see me?

"I don't hate you," I said. "And I didn't hurt him."

I went upstairs and packed a small bag. When I opened the front door to leave, my mother was standing there. She saw the suitcase and hesitated.

"Where are you going?"

Then, as if remembering she was supposed to be angry, she snapped, "Fine! Go! Don't come back until you're ready to apologize!"

I checked into the hospital under a different name. I had enough money left for one month.

Day by day, my hair began to fall out. I spent my afternoons walking through the city parks until I was too weak to stand. Finally, Cora called.

"Adrian, are you okay? Mom and Dad are worried. Just come home. Tomorrow is your birthday. Lets just move past this."

I looked at my reflection in the hospital glassa skeleton draped in pale skin. "Tell them to take care of themselves. Im not coming back."

That night, as the clock ticked toward midnight, the pain became a living thing, clawing at my bones. I reached for the pills on the nightstand, but my fingers were useless. The bottle shattered on the floor, white pills scattering like snow.

Sweet, metallic heat surged up my throat. I covered my mouth, but the blood soaked through my fingers and stained the white sheets.

At least I don't have to have another birthday, I thought.

The world blurred. The light faded. And finally, the silence was absolute.