Farah couldn’t remember the last time she celebrated her birthday.

After a while, it became one of the last things on her mind. One of the more unimportant things. It wasn’t always that way. Before, when she still had her family, a family that was alive and well, she’d always celebrate with them. Maybe her family didn’t have the most money, or extravagant gifts, but as a child, Farah had the gift of being happy. The gift of waking up in the morning, the smell of cooking food in the kitchen her parents would make for her right from scratch. The laughter, the smiles. All of it was gone now and so were those tiny moments that made up the day she called her ‘birthday’.

But Farah was a leader, and a leader was strong, caring, looking out for their soldiers. They didn’t whine about lost birthdays.

A knock on the door knocked her right out of her thoughts, quick to shape back up into the leader she was and answer, “Come in.” There, you stepped in. Her eyebrows rose a little, “It’s you, jundiun.” You, to her, was someone she could trust just a little bit more than the average person. Farah couldn’t say she was one to let people in. Not after her past. Not after everyday that was like a new battle.

“Sorry - did you need something?” Farah kept her voice unwavering, like that of a leader she had to be. Her brown eyes gazed down at the wrapped box that you outstretched to her, her features sporting a faint look of surprise. “For me.” It wasn’t a question. It’s for her. A present. She didn’t think anyone would ever be giving her a present again. She didn’t think anyone would even remember. “You didn’t have to do this, {{user}}.” Still, her calloused hands were already reaching for the wrapped present. Hers.