The fateful birthday

The dim glow of fairy lights illuminated Jenna Moore's spacious living room, where a dozen guests laughed and toasted in her honor. Everything seemed perfect. Jenna was the center of attention, radiant in a midnight-blue dress that highlighted the sparkle in her hazel eyes. Tonight, she was celebrating her 26th birthday, surrounded by the people she loved most.

Ted Danson, her boyfriend of two years, handed her a glass of champagne, a tender smile on his lips. "To you, Jenna. My shooting star. May this year bring you everything you desire."

Jenna chuckled softly, touched by his words. "Thank you, Ted. With you by my side, I feel like I can accomplish anything."

As she raised the glass to her lips, a familiar voice interrupted her. Her younger sister, Lisa, called out, "Hey, Jenna! Make a wish before you blow out the candles!"

The whole room erupted into laughter and cheers. Jenna stepped up to the cake adorned with flickering candles. But as she closed her eyes to make a wish, a strange sensation crept over her. A wave of oppressive heat in her chest, followed by a dull pain.

She opened her eyes, ignoring the discomfort pressing against her ribs. Taking a deep breath, she pushed aside the unease threatening to dampen the evening. It's nothing, she told herself. After all, today is my day.

The guests applauded as she blew out the candles in one swift breath, triggering another round of laughter and playful teasing. Lisa, always the family clown, launched into a dramatically off-key opera-style rendition of "Happy Birthday," sending the room into hysterics.

Ted stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand on the small of her back. "Are you okay?" he murmured near her ear, perhaps sensing the brief hesitation in her gaze.

Jenna smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine."

But the truth was more complicated. A small voice in the back of her mind whispered that something was wrong. Her chest felt heavy, as if invisible chains were wrapping around her. Still, she refused to ruin the celebration.

10:00 PM.

Laughter echoed, and the atmosphere remained lively. Jenna had allowed herself to be swept up in the energy of her guests. She was chatting with some coworkers when another wave of pain struck—sharper this time.

She froze, gripping the table for support. Her friend, Sarah, frowned. "Jenna, are you sure you're okay? You look pale."

"I'm fine, really," Jenna lied, forcing a smile. "Maybe just a little tired."

Sarah didn't seem convinced but didn't push further. Across the room, Ted caught Jenna's eye, silently checking on her. She gave him a small nod, hoping he wouldn't worry too much.

11:45 PM.

The guests started to leave, leaving behind a messy yet warm and lively space. Ted and Jenna bid farewell to each one with hugs and promises of See you soon.

Finally alone, they collapsed onto the couch, exhausted but happy. Ted wrapped an arm around her, whispering sweet words of comfort.

But as the clock neared midnight, the heat in Jenna's chest became unbearable. She gently pulled away from Ted, using the excuse of getting a glass of water.

11:59 PM.

In the kitchen, an inexplicable force overtook her. A searing pain forced her to clutch the counter for support. Her legs trembled, and a strangled gasp escaped her lips.

At that moment, a vision appeared before her: her grandmother's face—stern yet protective—floating in an eerie mist.

"Jenna... the time has come."

Her grandmother's words echoed in her mind just as the pain reached its peak. Jenna had no time to understand what was happening. Her legs gave out beneath her, and she collapsed onto the floor, the glass slipping from her hands and shattering into countless fragments.

In the darkness swallowing her, blurred images flashed: silhouettes, indistinct whispers, and that same stern face of her grandmother, as if trying to tell her something important.

When she opened her eyes, the harsh white light of a ceiling made her squint. She instantly recognized the antiseptic scent of a hospital. The pain in her chest had subsided, but a lingering heaviness remained.

"Jenna!" Ted's anxious voice pulled her fully back to reality. He was sitting by her bedside, his face lined with worry. "You scared me… You collapsed, and I didn't know what to do."

She tried to speak, but her throat was dry. "What… what happened?" she finally murmured.

Ted squeezed her hand gently. "The doctor says it could be a virus or an infection. They're still running tests to be sure. But you're going to be okay."

Two days passed.

Jenna remained in the hospital, her condition fluctuating between intense fever and exhaustion. The doctors couldn't pinpoint the exact cause of her symptoms, which left her feeling a mix of worry and frustration.

"You need to rest, Jenna," Ted told her every day. He spent every night in a chair beside her, refusing to leave her alone.

But deep down, something felt off. This wasn't just an illness. That strange heat, that pain in her chest… it was unlike anything she had ever experienced. Yet, Jenna refused to dwell on it. She clung to the hope that it would eventually pass.

One night, as Ted slept beside her, Jenna had a strange dream.

Her grandmother appeared again, dressed in a dark robe, her gaze heavy with seriousness. "Jenna, listen to me. What you're feeling is not an illness. It's the curse of our bloodline. It awakens on your 26th birthday, and it demands what it is owed..."

Jenna woke up with a start, her heart pounding. She looked around. Everything seemed normal, but those words lingered in her mind. Curse. She shook her head. It was just a nightmare, nothing more.

After three days of extensive tests, the doctors had to admit they had no explanation for Jenna's condition.

"Everything appears normal in your results," said Dr. Richards, a middle-aged man whose face showed nothing but confusion. "It's possible that this is a virus that isn't manifesting clearly. We'll prescribe antivirals and painkillers to manage the symptoms."

Ted, sitting beside Jenna, frowned. "But she's not getting better… Are you sure there's nothing else you can do?"

The doctor shook his head gently. "I understand your concern, Mr. Danson. We'll continue monitoring the situation, but for now, I advise you to go home and rest, Jenna."

She gave a weak nod. Going home seemed like a good idea, but deep down, she knew it wasn't the solution.

The following days, things only got worse.

Jenna spent her days bedridden, unable to regain her strength. Ted did his best to take care of her—cooking, making sure she took her medication, staying by her side at all times. But each morning, when he woke up, he felt like she had changed a little more.

Her once full and radiant cheeks were now sunken, her complexion pale as wax. Her eyes, once lively and full of warmth, seemed dull, almost empty.

One evening, as he walked into their bedroom with a bowl of hot soup, Ted froze. Jenna was sitting at the edge of the bed, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

"Jenna?"

She turned her head toward him, and her gaze hit him like a slap. There was nothing left of the woman he once knew.

"I… I feel like I'm disappearing, Ted," she whispered, her voice broken.

He quickly set the soup down on the table and rushed to her side. "No, you're not disappearing. We'll figure this out. I promise."

But deep inside, Ted was consumed by helplessness. He was watching her wither away, day by day, like a flower deprived of light.

One night, he finally broke.

Sitting in the kitchen, a glass of whiskey in his hand, Ted buried his face in his palms. His shoulders trembled under the weight of the tears he had been holding back for days. He couldn't lose Jenna. Not her.

Then, an idea struck him: What if what Jenna was going through wasn't an ordinary illness? What if this was beyond anything he understood?

Ted lifted his head, his whiskey glass still trembling in his hand. A priest… The thought seemed absurd, almost laughable, but he had nothing left to lose. If the doctors couldn't do anything, maybe the answer lay elsewhere, in something he didn't yet understand.

Taking a deep breath, he climbed the stairs toward their bedroom. The house was silent, almost oppressive, and each step felt heavier than the last.

He gently pushed the bedroom door open, ready to discuss his decision with Jenna. But what he saw paralyzed him.

Jenna stood in the middle of the room, her body trembling with an eerie, almost supernatural energy. Her eyes, once soft and radiant, now glowed with a disturbing reddish hue.

"Jenna…" he murmured, hesitating to step forward.

She turned sharply toward him, and the expression on her face froze him in place. It wasn't fear. It wasn't pain. It was… hunger. An insatiable hunger radiating from every fiber of her being.

Before he could react, she lunged at him with inhuman speed. Her hands gripped his shoulders, and her teeth sank into his neck with terrifying precision.

The pain was brief but intense, and Ted felt his body give in under the attack. His vision blurred as he collapsed to the floor, Jenna still clinging to him.

In a final breath, just before losing consciousness, he whispered, "Jenna… why?"