The rest of the week had flown by in a blur of schoolwork and navigating the social maze that was Harrington Manor Academy. Aliya had picked me up and dropped me off every day so far, I couldn't wait to repay the favour when I finally did my test next Monday.
I had settled into a routine of sorts, though it still felt like I was walking on eggshells, I think what made me feel like an outsider most was that I couldn't understand everyone. Lunch in the cafeteria, although I sat with Aliya, they lol spoke in Welsh. They did try to make an effort in English with me sometimes, although Welsh was their natural habit.
Aliya had been my constant companion, guiding me through the complexities of the school, translating everything i missed, but there were still moments when I felt like an outsider.
It was Thursday evening when my dad called me down stairs as I was finishing a late homework session.
"Hey, kiddo," his voice warm as always. "How's the first week treating you?"
"Surviving," I said, letting out a small laugh. "Everything here is... different. But I'm getting the hang of it."
"Good to hear," he beamed. "By the way, I was chatting with Aliya's dad earlier today—I mentioned your 18th birthday coming up next week."
I froze. Just like that, the words dropped into the conversation like a stone into still water. My birthday. I hadn't even thought about it. Not since moving here. Not since everything shifted.
"Uh, yeah," I said slowly, unsure how to respond. "But I'm not really up for celebrating this year."
And I wasn't. Not in the slightest. The truth was, I still felt like I was floating between two lives—one I'd left behind and one I hadn't quite figured out yet. The idea of throwing a party, especially here where everything still felt temporary, made my stomach knot.
"I just don't want to make a big deal," I added, hoping that would be the end of it.
But, of course, it wasn't.
"Well, your mum and I were talking," Dad continued, voice taking on that too-cheerful tone he used when he'd already made up his mind. "And we thought maybe you'd want to do something."
He paused, waiting for my reaction. I stayed silent.
"Aliya's family is pretty well connected. How about a party? Just something small. Low-key."
Low-key. Right. My dad's version of "low-key" usually involved banners, balloons, and a guest list the size of a wedding reception.
"I was thinking we could invite some people from the base—just the ones you know. Nothing crazy." His words kept rolling, unbothered by my lack of enthusiasm. "I know a place that could sort a private room. Plus, Ethan said he could help get the venue for you. He's good with that stuff."
And there it was. Ethan.
The name hit harder than expected. After the weird tension of our first meeting—the way he looked at me like I was some clueless outsider—he was the last person I wanted involved. I still wasn't sure if he actually disliked me or just enjoyed making me feel like I didn't belong.
Ethan helping with my birthday felt off. Too personal. Too… watched.
I swallowed a growing wave of discomfort. "I don't know, Dad. I'm still adjusting to everything here. I don't really know that many people. It might be… weird."
"You don't have to worry," he said, brushing aside my hesitation like a fly. "Aliya's already got a few people in mind to invite. She said she'd help you feel comfortable. You've been through a lot with the move, sweetheart. You deserve a good night."
He meant well. He always did. But he didn't get it. Moving here had turned everything upside down. New town, new school, new everything. And while Aliya had made it easier, I still felt like a guest in my own life most days. Planning a party felt like trying to host in someone else's house.
Still, I could hear the hope in his voice. That eager dad-energy, the kind that wanted so badly to make things better with plans and promises.
"Okay, Dad," I finally said, softer than I meant to. "If you really think it'll be okay..."
He didn't catch the hesitation. Or if he did, he ignored it.
"Perfect!" he said brightly. "I'll talk to a couple people and let you know. We'll get everything planned. It'll be fun—you'll see."
I hung up a few minutes later, staring at the lock screen on my phone as if it might offer some kind of answer.
A birthday party.
With Ethan.
Organised by my dad.
Surrounded by people who barely knew me.
I leaned back against my pillow, the crown from earlier still tangled in my hair from where I'd tossed it. Eighteen was meant to be a milestone, a marker of independence and beginnings. But right now, it just felt like another reminder that I wasn't quite where I wanted to be in life.
I sighed.
Great.
I couldn't stop thinking about what my dad had said. "Aliya's family is pretty well connected." He made it sound so casual, like they were just another friendly bunch who knew a few people. But even in the short time I'd been here, I'd picked up on something… more.
Aliya's family wasn't just "known" on the base—they were respected. From what I had seen, her dad, Captain Mark, wasn't the kind of man people ignored when he walked into a room. Looks like the 'Captain' status runs in the family I thought. People straightened up around him. Officers nodded before he even spoke. He had this calm authority about him, like he never had to raise his voice to be heard.
But what really caught my attention was what Dad had said about Ethan. That her dad and Ethan were on a first-name basis.
That wasn't nothing.
Ethan wasn't just some guy who showed up at parties and leaned on walls looking broody. He was Aliya's older brother—early twenties maybe—and already doing important logistical work on base., when he wasn't training and leading Wales to victory, apparently. He carried himself with that same quiet confidence as their dad, the kind that made people move out of the way before he even said a word. I'd overheard someone mention he was one of the youngest in his unit to be granted clearance for high-level operations. Military life ran deep in their family.
Captain Mark Taylor—Aliya and Ethan's dad—was practically base royalty. Everyone knew him. Not just because of his rank, but because he had history. Respect. The kind you didn't just earn—you built it over decades. Which explained a lot, really. Why Aliya's family had pull. Why Ethan seemed to drift in and out of places like he had a master key. Why my dad was suddenly acting like it was totally normal for him to help plan my birthday.
The Taylors weren't just "well connected"—they were the connection.
It also explained why Ethan was always around Aliya. Protective. Watchful. That kind of older brother who didn't say much, but saw everything. Still, something about the way he'd looked at me when we first met—like he'd scanned me in five seconds and filed me under unimportant—stuck in my chest like a splinter.
And now he was helping with my birthday party?
I couldn't tell if that made me feel protected… or totally exposed.