A Day Full of Twists

The sun had barely begun to filter through the curtains when I opened my eyes. It was my birthday, but I didn't feel that excitement that usually accompanies such dates. Instead, there was a strange mix of nervousness and calm. Lindsay expected it to be a special day; after all, I hadn't celebrated much since… well, for years. But something in the air told me this one would be different.

I decided to spend the morning relaxing before Olivia turned the day into a spectacle. I put on some jeans and went out to the campus for a walk. The fresh air always helped clear my mind. However, just as I was crossing the path toward the lake, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Olivia:

"Emergency! Come to the campus café NOW. It's important."

I frowned. What could be so urgent? Intrigued and somewhat worried, I decided to head back to the café. When I arrived, I found Olivia sitting at a table with her iPad in front of her, looking as if she had just faced an existential crisis.

"What's going on, Olivia?" I asked, dropping into the chair across from her.

"It's a total disaster!" she exclaimed, gesturing dramatically. "Le Jardin Étoilé canceled our reservation. They said there was an administrative error! How can there be an administrative error at such an elegant restaurant?"

I sighed, trying to stay calm.

"Olivia, it's not necessary to do anything extravagant. I already told you I prefer something simple."

"But this is your birthday!" she protested, raising her hands as if defending a noble cause. "It has to be perfect. I can't let something as small as an error ruin everything."

I rolled my eyes, though I knew there was no way to stop her.

"Alright, Olivia. What do you have in mind now?"

She smiled widely, as if she had already planned everything.

"Don't worry. I have a Plan B."

Olivia's "Plan B" turned out to be an Italian restaurant called Trattoria Bella . Although it wasn't as luxurious as Le Jardin Étoilé , it seemed cozy and charming. However, Olivia couldn't simply accept that things could be simple. She decided to compensate for the change with improvised decorations and live music.

"I hired a street violinist," she informed me as we walked toward the restaurant. "And I bought golden balloons, LED lights, and banners. It's going to be epic."

"Olivia, do you really think we need all that?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course," she responded firmly. "This isn't just dinner; it's an experience."

When we arrived at the restaurant, we realized that Olivia's improvised decorations had been… excessive. There were so many golden balloons that they almost blocked the entrance, and the LED lights blinked intermittently, giving the place a kitschy rather than elegant vibe. The restaurant staff was desperately trying to reorganize everything so it wouldn't feel overwhelming.

"Well, at least no one will go hungry," Olivia announced dramatically, pointing to the trays and trays of pasta and desserts she had accidentally ordered for 20 people instead of five.

Lindsay, who had arrived shortly after, approached me while Olivia continued giving instructions to the staff.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly, placing a hand on my arm.

I nodded, though I wasn't sure how to feel about everything that was happening.

"Yes, it's just… a lot."

She smiled warmly and pulled a carefully wrapped package from her bag.

"Happy birthday, Sack. I hope you like it."

I took it curiously and opened it. Inside was an elegant notebook, with delicate details and an inscription engraved on the back: "For marking new beginnings."

"Lindsay… this is too much," I said, feeling a lump in my throat. "You didn't have to do this."

"Of course I did," she replied with a sincere smile. "I wanted it to be something special. Something you can carry with you always."

"Thank you. It means a lot to me."

Finally, we all sat down at a long table in the center of the restaurant. Despite the excessive decorations and the somewhat chaotic atmosphere, the place had a warm and cozy vibe. The candles flickered softly, and the aroma of Italian food filled the air.

However, the mishaps didn't end there. One of the waiters mixed up the orders, serving the wrong dishes to almost everyone.

"This is what I call a collaborative culinary experience!" Olivia announced theatrically, raising her glass of champagne. "Let's swap plates and try new things."

We all laughed, and although it was initially awkward, we ended up enjoying the moment.

The violinist, who had been playing intense classical pieces, accidentally broke a string in the middle of a particularly dramatic melody. Olivia, always quick with her responses, suggested that we all sing a group song to replace the music.

"Come on, everyone! Let's sing something epic. Like… I don't know, the national anthem."

"I think we should stick to improvisational music," Lindsay interjected, laughing. "Or just enjoy the silence."

As we ate, Olivia continued to be the soul of the dinner.

"Did you know that in Switzerland there's a festival where they roll giant cheeses downhill?" she began, gesturing as if giving a lecture. "People run after them, but obviously, they can't catch them because… well, it's a giant cheese rolling downhill."

Lindsay and I exchanged an amused glance.

"And what happens if someone catches the cheese?" I asked, playing along with her.

"Exactly!" Olivia responded, excited. "No one catches it, because it's impossible. But imagine trying. It would be like chasing your dreams, but your dreams are a giant cheese that could crush you at any moment."

We all laughed, and the conversation kept flowing.

At one point, Olivia became serious (or at least as serious as Olivia could be).

"You know, I think this year has been incredible for all of us. We've grown so much, faced challenges… and well, we're here together. That's what really matters."

Lindsay nodded, smiling.

"You're right, Olivia. Sometimes we forget how important we are to each other."

Olivia raised her glass.

"Then let's toast to that! To friendship, to new beginnings, and to Sack, who is officially older today."

We clinked our glasses, and for a moment, the chaos of the day seemed to fade away.

As the others began to gather their things and say their goodbyes, I stayed seated in silence for a moment, watching as the group laughed and joked. Olivia dramatically announced that this was just the "warm-up" for next year's birthday, promising something even more epic for the following year. Lindsay and I exchanged a knowing glance, aware that we would always have unique moments thanks to our friendship.

However, as everyone began to disperse, I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. The true purpose of this birthday had yet to arrive. Slowly, I moved away from the group and found a quiet spot inside the restaurant. In my pocket, I carried my mother's letter, carefully folded and protected.

With trembling hands, I pulled out the envelope and held it in front of me. The warm light of the restaurant illuminated the slightly worn paper, reminding me of how long I had waited for this moment.

I glanced toward where Lindsay and Olivia were, too busy laughing to notice what I was doing. I took a deep breath, ran my fingers along the edge of the envelope, and slowly opened it. Inside, I found a handwritten sheet of paper in my mother's elegant yet familiar handwriting. My eyes filled with tears even before I read the first words.

Dear Sack,

Happy birthday, my love. Today is a special day, one I've always wanted to celebrate with you since you were little. Every year, I watch you grow, becoming a stronger, wiser, and kinder man. You are everything a mother could wish for, and though I don't always say it out loud, know that I am incredibly proud of you.

But today, as I write this letter, I feel I must share something with you. Something I've kept silent about for months because I didn't want your life to be overshadowed by my problems. A few months ago, I went to the doctor for a persistent pain I couldn't ignore. What they discovered was devastating: I have terminal cancer. The doctors say that, at best, I have one month left to live. One month, Sack. And though I know this is something you never wanted to hear, I needed to tell you. I couldn't let you find out any other way, not after all we've shared.

My dear son, I don't want you to think for a second that this is your fault or that I could have done anything to prevent it. This is my fate, and though it hurts to accept, it has also given me time to reflect on what truly matters. You are the most important thing in my life, Sack. Always have been. From the day you were born, I knew my purpose was to care for you, guide you, and love you with all my heart. And though I won't be here to see you fulfill your dreams, know that I've always believed in you. Always.

I know you might wonder why I didn't tell you sooner. I wanted to protect you, Sack. I wanted these last few months to be happy, full of laughter and moments you could treasure. But now, as I write this, I realize that perhaps it was selfish of me. Maybe I should have told you so we could talk, cry together, and say goodbye the way you deserve. But I was afraid, son. Afraid to see you suffer, afraid I wouldn't be able to bear your pain. That's why I decided to write this letter, so that someday you might understand me and forgive me.

Sack, I want you to know that I love you beyond what words can express. Your laughter has always been my favorite music, and your hugs have been my refuge on the darkest days. Never forget how special you are. You have such a big, pure heart that it will light the path for those around you. You will learn to grow, face challenges, and find people who love you for who you are. People who will walk with you on this journey, help you heal, and keep moving forward. They will be a gift, Sack. Cherish them, value them, and let them into your life. They will help you heal when I no longer can.

I also want to ask you something important: accept your father. I know it's been hard for you to understand him, but beneath that cold and strict mask is a good person. Once, many years ago, I fell in love with him precisely because of his strength and capacity for sacrifice. Though he didn't always know how to express it, he loves you more than you can imagine. Give him a chance, Sack. Please, don't let pain or misunderstandings come between you. He needs you as much as you need him.

When you think of me, I want you to remember that I will always be with you. In every step you take, every decision you make, every laugh you share with those you love. My love will be there, surrounding you, guiding you. Don't be afraid to fall, because I will always be there to lift you up, even if you can't see me.

Finally, I want you to celebrate this birthday as it should be. Laugh, eat cake until you're full, hug those you love. Be happy, Sack. Because that's what I want most for you: happiness. No matter what happens, no matter how much it hurts, you will always find a reason to move forward. And when you do, know that I will be proud of you. I always will be.

With all my love,

Mom

My hands trembled so much that I could barely hold the letter. The words blurred with the tears streaming down my cheeks. Each sentence felt like a direct blow to my heart. My mother… she knew she was going to die. She knew her time was running out, and yet she chose to hide it from me. She wanted to protect me, to give me a little more happiness before everything changed.

But then, the memory of the accident hit me with full force. The day I lost my mother. I remembered the sound of twisting metal, the desperate screams, the ambulance taking too long to arrive. I remembered how the doctors didn't act as they should have, how their attention came too late. If only they had done their job properly, maybe she would have survived the accident. Maybe we would have had a few more weeks together.

But even if she had survived, her time was already limited. Her cancer gave her only a few weeks to live. It was a cruel thought, but also an unavoidable truth. How could she keep something like that to herself? How could she face such devastating news alone? I thought about all the times I saw her tired, all the excuses she made to stay home or rest more. Now it all made sense. Everything took on a new meaning.

The weight of her illness, her death, and all the things we never got to talk about hit me all at once. I felt an immense void in my chest, as if something inside me had broken irreparably. I covered my face with my hands and let the tears flow freely. I didn't try to stop them. I couldn't.

Everything I had felt since her death—the anger, the confusion, the pain—came rushing back multiplied by a thousand. But now there was something else: guilt. Guilt for not being there for her, for not knowing what she was going through. How could I not have noticed? How could I not have seen that she was sick?

I stayed there, in silence, crying for everything I had lost and everything I would never have. Because even though I knew her love lived on in every word of that letter, it wasn't enough. I couldn't hug her again, hear her laugh, or tell her how much she meant to me.