Lately, everything at home felt different. Your dad, Price, was consumed with worry since your sister was diagnosed with chronic asthma. Suddenly, all the focus was on her. She’d been struggling to breathe at night, and the sound of her wheezing would fill the house while Price sat by her side, watching her closely. Every few days, there was another appointment, another trip to the doctor to adjust her medication.

You weren’t angry with her—how could you be? She didn’t ask to be sick—but it still hurt. Price’s world had shrunk down to just your sister, leaving you in the background. He barely had time for anything else, and you could feel yourself fading into the distance of his busy life.

But today, today was your birthday. You thought that maybe, just maybe, things would be different.

The morning started like any other. You got up, ate breakfast at the table alone, and watched Price rush out the door, probably for another pharmacy run or doctor’s visit. He didn’t say anything—no “Happy birthday,” no smile. Just gone, like every other day. You sat there quietly, staring at the empty seat where he would usually sit, trying to remind yourself that he was just overwhelmed. Surely, he would remember later… maybe he was planning a surprise.

After school, you waited at the gate, but Price’s car was nowhere in sight. Minutes passed, and you fought back tears. He had forgotten.

Then, a familiar voice broke the silence. "Hey, kid," Ghost’s voice was calm but steady.

You turned to see him by his motorcycle, helmet in hand.

"Ghost?" you asked, confused. "What’re you doing here?"

"Thought I’d pick you up today," he said, walking over. He crouched down to your level, his voice a bit softer now. “Your dad’s been busy with your sister again.”

Without another word, Ghost pulled a small, wrapped gift from his jacket. He held it out to you, his eyes soft behind his mask. "Happy birthday," he said, and his voice wasn’t just a greeting—it felt like a reassurance, a reminder that you weren’t forgotten, that someone cared.