The morning felt ordinary, though nothing in Capaldi ever truly was. The whole city still slept beneath a veil of silver mist, the streets hushed as if the world itself was holding its breath. The first rays of light slipped quietly across the blue planet and found their way into Capaldi, scattering across crystal roofs and glass towers until the entire skyline seemed to wake in slow motion. The majestic Capaldi rose to life in the arms of dawn.
In one of its tall quiet houses, Dylan stirred awake. He had slept late the previous night, too many thoughts, too many plans tucked behind that calm face of his. The light crawled across the curtains, brushing his hair with gold. His eyes opened slowly. For a long moment, he simply lay there, watching the play of light on the ceiling, his thoughts far, far away.
Then, the faintest movement pulled him back; Lena's soft stirring beside him. She shifted in sleep, her hair spilling across the pillow like a pool of night itself.
Dylan's gaze softened. He turned toward her, his entire being gentling at the sight. He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her forehead, careful not to wake her.
A faint smile curved his lips before he slipped out of bed.
Moments later, he returned from the shower, fresh and calm, the scent of cedar and rain clinging to him. He wore a black knitted sweater and tailored pants that carried the ease of elegance, their fabric moving like quiet silk with each step. There was something commanding in the simplicity of it,like shadow meeting morning.
On the side table, he placed a half-bloomed white rose beside a small black velvet box, the faintest smile playing at the corner of his mouth. He adjusted the flower just so, delicate, almost reverent. Then, grabbing his phone and keys, he walked toward the door.
Before stepping out, Dylan turned back from the doorway, eyes resting once more on the girl still lost in dreams. Lena's face was calm, untouched by the waking world. For a moment, he just stood there, a quiet exhale leaving his chest. Then he left, the soft click of the door barely echoing.
***
The sun had climbed higher by the time Lena woke. The warmth of it fell across her cheek, coaxing her eyes open in soft, slow blinks. The world was gentle, morning light spilling across the room, the sound of wind outside carrying a faint hum of the city.
A sweet fragrance reached her before her thoughts did. She frowned slightly, sleepy curiosity breaking through. The scent of fresh flowers—soft and clean. Her eyes trailed toward the bedside table.
There, on the pale sheet, rested a single white rose, half-bloomed, its petals pure as snow. Beside it lay a small black box, and atop it, a delicate card with Dylan's precise handwriting.
Lena smiled instantly. That kind of smile that doesn't rise fast but warms slowly from within.
She reached out, picking up the rose. As always, there were no thorns, Dylan never left them. She lifted it close and breathed in its scent.
Her eyes then fell on the card. She opened it.
"Happiest 18th, Lena AyaBurg.
The girl who ruled my universe.
Your's Only,
Dylan Al'Xander "
Her heart softened. The corners of her lips curved again, gentler this time. The words carried something quiet but whole, a kind of love that didn't demand but stayed. His icy scent still lingered on the card, that familiar trace that never quite left her.
Curiosity tugged her next. She lifted the lid of the box.
Inside, nestled in black velvet, was a pendant, small, silver, and simple in shape, yet beautiful in a way that made breath pause. A tiny star, enclosed within a circle of glass. Inside the glass shimmered a faint light, shifting from silver to violet to the blue of dawn.
When Lena's fingers brushed it, the light within seemed to pulse, alive, almost breathing with her touch.
She gasped softly. It was like holding a fragment of Capaldi's morning in her hand. The light dimmed, then brightened again as though acknowledging her. She watched it, mesmerized, until it steadied, soft as heartbeat.
After a while, she rose to freshen up.
***
Downstairs, Dylan was already moving through the quiet rhythm of morning. The scent of freshly brewed tea mixed with the faint crispness of toast. On the table, plates were set with careful perfection, nothing extravagant, but everything chosen with care.
When Lena appeared at the stairs, Dylan looked up.
She wore her favorite winter outfit; blue jeans, soft at the edges, paired with a pastel pink knitted sweater that seemed made of warmth itself. Her long hair fell loose around her lower back, still slightly damp from washing, and the tiny star pendant rested perfectly at her collarbone.
For a moment, Dylan just watched her descend, quiet awe flickering in his eyes.
When she reached the last step, he opened his arms.
"Come here, birthday girl."
Lena laughed, that light sound that always made the house feel alive, and ran straight into him.
"Happy birthday, Lena,"
Dylan whispered against her ear, his arms lifting her effortlessly, spinning her once through the air.
She giggled, clutching around his neck as the room tilted with laughter.
When her feet touched the floor again, she leaned lightly against him, breath still soft from the spin.
He noticed the pendant glinting against her neck.
"So… do you like it?"
Lena tilted her head, eyes twinkling.
"Hmm."
She smiled, the kind that carried more emotion than words.
"Thankies, Dylan."
She tiptoed, pressing a quick kiss against his cheek.
Dylan smiled, the kind of smile that reached his eyes.
"Glad you like it."
He guided her to the table where breakfast waited, pancakes with honey drizzle, her favorite berry tea, and a small bowl of white peaches. Everything tasted warm and quiet, like comfort folded into the morning.
They ate slowly, talking about nothing and everything. Lena told him about a dream she couldn't remember but insisted was beautiful. Dylan listened, eyes soft, the way one listens to a melody they already know by heart.
***
By mid-morning, the city had changed.
It was the Festival Day—the first grand celebration of the season. Capaldi shimmered under banners of violet and silver, every balcony spilling flowers that danced with the wind. Lanterns floated high, each holding a tiny flame that flickered like living stars.
From every corner came music; bells, flutes, and voices, all tangled together into something vast and joyous. The streets smelled of sugared fruits, cinnamon, and frost.
Children ran past with ribbons in their hands, laughter echoing like crystal rain. Vendors called greetings, their stalls gleaming with pastries and soft lights. The city seemed reborn in colour and sound.
Lena's eyes widened with pure wonder.
"It's more beautiful than I remember."
Dylan walked beside her as they walked in their neighborhood, hands tucked in pockets, quiet amusement tugging at his lips.
"You were smaller last time,"
he said. He remembers when that last time was; four years ago.
"Everything looked bigger then."
She turned, her hair brushing the air.
"It still feels big."
"Good,"
he replied.
"Means Capaldi hasn't lost its magic."
They walked through the streets, the pendant catching glints of sunlight. Dylan bought her violet sugar petals, the kind that melted on the tongue, and she laughed at how they stained her lips faint purple.
At the fountain square at the start of residential area, the crowd thickened, music swelling. Dylan bought two cups of violet tea, the steam curling into pale spirals. He handed her one, his voice soft beneath the noise.
"To adulthood," he said.
Lena smiled, the pendant glowing faintly as if echoing her heartbeat.
"To whatever comes next."
They raised their cups lightly, the warmth seeping through their fingers. The tea was sweet and faintly bitter, a taste that lingered like memory; of endings, beginnings, and everything between.
***
From a distance, a car screeched lightly before halting. Gibbs; Dylan's long-time companion, jumped out, his hair slightly disheveled, face flushed from rushing.
He muttered to himself,
"I'm late… again,"
Even though it was 10 am,and sprinted toward the house. The butler robot, Style, greeted him at the door with metallic composure.
"You are late once again, Master Gibbs," Style intoned, its tone as smooth as polished glass.
"Yeah, yeah,"
Gibbs said, brushing past. "No need for the morning lecture."
He spotted Lena as soon as he entered the lounge. He place the bag infront of her.
"Happy birthday, Lena!"
Lena turned, delighted.
"Thank you, Gibbs."
He grinned.
"Eighteen already, huh? You're a big girlie now."
Lena laughed softly, her eyes lighting up. "I suppose I am."
Gibbs patted her head fondly.
"Splendour,"
he said, in that dramatic way of his, before joining Dylan by the window.
The two shared a knowing glance, the unspoken kind between brothers who understood far too much without saying a word.
***
Outside, the festival had reached its heartbeat.
The snow had turned to glittering mist, soft enough to walk through without melting. Violets spilled from balconies, and their scent clung sweet and sharp in the air. Overhead, lanterns drifted like constellations that had come down to visit.
The city was alive, Capaldi in full bloom.
Lena walked between Dylan and Gibbs, her hands tucked into her sweater sleeves, face bright with joy. Everywhere she looked, there was colour, motion, laughter. She paused often, to stare, to smile, to breathe.
A group of street dancers passed, their cloaks swirling violet smoke. A marching band followed, beating drums that echoed off the marble walls. The sound of flutes rose high, scattering into the cold air like pieces of glass.
Dylan's gaze kept finding her; how the light reflected in her hair, how the pendant's hue shifted with every step she took. There was a tenderness in his expression that words would've ruined.
When the parade swept by again, filling the air with drums and coloured smoke, Lena turned to say something but the noise swallowed her voice. She laughed instead, eyes bright with the chaos of beauty.
Dylan just watched her; watched the girl who ruled his universe move through light and sound as though she belonged to it all.
The pendant pulsed once, faintly, and steadied, glowing now not with magic, but with the quiet colour of her laughter.
They wandered until the sun began to slip behind Capaldi's glass spires, painting everything in the soft hues of dusk. The air grew colder, the mist settling low.
Lena tugged at Dylan's sleeve, her voice barely a murmur.
"Dylan… I'm dead tired."
He smiled down at her, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"Then we go home."
Gibbs stretched his arms above his head. "Finally someone said it."
They laughed, their breaths turning to pale clouds in the evening air.
As they walked back through the softening light to parking area, Capaldi shimmered behind them, music fading, lanterns rising higher into the sky. The streets were still alive with joy, but for Dylan and Lena, the world had narrowed into something smaller, quieter, theirs.
The star pendant gleamed once against the fading blue before the light dimmed, mirroring the calm settling over them.
Home waited just ahead. And as the doors of Dylan's house closed behind them, the day outside continued to move on with all festival fever.