The Birthday That Changed Everything
Samantha sat stiffly in her decorated chair, eyes flicking to the clock again and again. Every second dragged like a cruel joke. At first, she had been smiling, watching the colorful streamers flutter, the balloons bobbing, imagining the laughter and joy of her birthday. Her parents had gone out to pick up the cake themselves, insisting she stay with Uncle Ben. At the time, she had felt safe, happy, content.
Now, that safety had vanished. Time stretched painfully, each minute heavier than the last. Where were they?
She got up and walked over to Uncle Ben, who was pacing near the phone, furiously trying to reach them.
"Are they still not picking up?" she asked softly, already fearing the answer.
"No, kiddo," Uncle Ben said, his voice tight with tension. "They might just be… busy."
Busy? That wasn't possible. Samantha felt a pit open in her stomach. Something was wrong.
She went back to her chair, hugging herself, whispering desperate prayers under her breath. The driver always answered his phone. Silence wasn't silence—it was an alarm bell in her chest.
"Samantha," Michelle said gently, kneeling beside her, "I'm sure your parents are just running late. Let's still have your party."
"Yes," Tia added with a hopeful grin. "You're fifteen now—you can run your own party!"
Samantha shook her head, staring at the decorations. "No. I'll always celebrate my birthday with my parents. They're the reason I'm here. I just… have to wait."
Michelle gave a small, worried nod.
Half an hour crawled by. Every tick of the clock was a hammer on her chest. Then, finally, Uncle Ben's phone rang.
The room went silent. Every eye followed him. Even the faintest whispers seemed to die in the air.
"We'll be on our way," Uncle Ben said quietly, voice trembling. The color drained from his face.
Samantha's stomach dropped. She ran toward him, heart hammering. "Mom and Dad are planning my birthday somewhere else, right?" she asked, trying to mask her fear with hope. "Or maybe they're getting me a huge present, and we just have to pick it up—right?"
Uncle Ben's eyes, red-rimmed and glistening, told her the truth before his words even did.
"I'm sorry, kiddo," he said softly. "Your parents were in a car accident. They're at the hospital… in surgery."
Her knees buckled. She collapsed to the floor, hands clutching at the hem of her dress, a strangled sob escaping her throat.
"Peter!" Uncle Ben called to his friend. "We need to get to the hospital—NOW!"
Samantha scrambled after them, crying out, "Can I come too?"
"I… I don't know if that's a good idea," Uncle Ben replied, worry etched across his face.
"Please!" she cried, tears blurring her vision. "Please! I need to see them!"
After a tense pause, he nodded.
The drive was a nightmare of prayer, fear, and guilt. Samantha's hands gripped the seat, fingernails biting into the leather, praying for a miracle she didn't believe in. Uncle Ben spoke quietly into his phone, updating relatives. Samantha wanted to scream—how could he focus on anything else while her world was crumbling?
At the hospital, chaos erupted. Nurses, doctors, frantic footsteps. A nurse approached Uncle Ben with her head bowed.
"I'm sorry," she said gently, "but Mr. Luke Andreas—he didn't make it. He passed on the way here."
Samantha froze. The words didn't compute.
"What… what did you say?" she whispered, voice trembling.
Her uncle's face cracked in grief. "Your father… he's gone, sweetheart."
"No!" Her scream tore through the sterile hallway, bouncing off the walls, echoing the devastation in her chest. She collapsed, unable to hold herself up.
Aunt Favour rushed over, wrapping her trembling arms around Samantha. "What about your mother?" she asked, voice tight.
"She's in surgery," the nurse said softly, gesturing toward the operating room.
Samantha pinched herself, slapped her cheeks—anything to wake from this nightmare. Cold sweat clung to her skin. Her father… gone. Her mother… fighting for her life. This couldn't be real.
An hour later, the doctor emerged. Samantha's stomach twisted.
"Is everything okay, doctor?" Uncle Ben asked, his voice brittle with fear.
The doctor shook his head, sorrow written in every line of his face. "I'm very sorry. We… we weren't able to save Mrs. Andreas."
Samantha's legs gave out. She ran toward the operating room. Her mother lay there, pale, breathless, almost a shadow of the woman she had known.
"No… this isn't real," Samantha whispered, gripping her mother's cold hands. "It's a prank. Wake up… wake up!"
"Samantha!" Uncle Ben shouted, but she didn't hear him.
"I don't like this! Wake up, Mom! Dad is gone… don't leave me too!" Her voice cracked into raw, helpless sobs.
Finally, Uncle Ben gently but firmly pulled her back. "Sam… we have to go."
"No! Don't leave me here! Not on my birthday! Please!" she screamed, vision blurring, the room spinning.
And then… darkness.
That day, the girl who thought she had anything and everything learned what it meant to truly lose everything. That was the day the new Samantha began—one forged in grief, pain, and an unshakable will to survive.