Chapter 2: Birthday Transformation

Aria’s POV

The next morning was crueler than I expected.

The moment I stepped into the school hallway, the stares hit me like knives. Whispers curled around my ears like smoke.

“Did you see her storm off last night?”

“She looked like a wet dog — poor thing.”

“She actually spit cake back? Who does that?”

I kept my eyes low, shoulders tight. If I didn’t look at them, maybe I could pretend I was invisible. Maybe they’d leave me alone.

But this school never let me disappear.

At my locker, someone had scribbled “Mutt” in thick black marker across the metal. My hands trembled as I wiped it off, but the ink smudged, staining my palms. Of course.

I got to class late — on purpose — but that didn’t stop Rian from turning the moment I entered.

“Well, if it isn’t the birthday brat,” he announced, loud enough for the entire room to hear. “How’s that frosting facial working out for your skin?”

Snickers echoed around the room.

I ignored him. Sat at my desk. Stared at the board.

“Didn’t know cake made her prettier,” someone else whispered. “Should’ve thrown two.”

My ears burned, but I said nothing.

Then there was Kael. Stone-faced. Still. But as I passed his desk, he muttered just low enough for me to hear:

“You should’ve stayed in your room. No one wanted you there.”

That one hit harder than the rest.

Because he knew I was there. He knew I came. And he still let it happen.

By gym class, my soul was hanging on by a thread.

We were playing dodgeball — because apparently, the universe wanted to make me suffer in every possible way today.

It started small. A few “accidental” hits to the face. A shove here, a bump there. Then someone — probably one of Rian’s idiot friends — hurled a ball so hard it knocked me flat on my back. My head bounced off the floor. Laughter erupted.

“Oops,” one of the girls said, fake-concerned. “She’s so fragile.”

Luca wasn’t around. Not in class. Not anywhere I could find him. And maybe it was better that way — because the one brother who didn’t actively humiliate me didn’t mean he protected me either.

I left the gym with my bag over my shoulder and tears in my eyes.

Ran to the back of the school — the overgrown garden behind the theater wing that no one ever went to. It was my place. My corner of quiet.

I sank onto the ground, hugged my knees, and let it out.

Again.

“Why the hell did I think this year would be different?” I whispered into my arms. “Why do I even try?”

“Because you’re too damn stubborn to give up.”

I lifted my head, startled.

Mira stood a few feet away, her brows furrowed, arms crossed, like she’d been watching the whole time and was only now stepping in.

“You saw—?”

“I always see,” she said softly. “I see every time you come back with red eyes. Every time you laugh it off when someone makes a comment. Every time you shrink yourself just to survive.”

I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand. “Then why don’t you stop them?”

“Because you wouldn’t want me fighting your battles. You want to win them yourself.”

She stepped closer, dropped her bag beside mine, and sat beside me in the grass.

“But maybe it’s time to stop hiding, Aria,” she said gently. “You’ve spent your whole life trying to stay invisible, and for what? So people won’t see you bleed?”

“I don’t want them to see me at all.”

She tilted her head. “Then let’s give them something to stare at.”

I blinked. “What?”

Mira’s eyes sparkled. “A glow-up. You, but turned up to a hundred. New hair. New wardrobe. Maybe some mascara sharp enough to stab Rian in the ego.”

Despite everything, a laugh escaped me. A small one. Croaky and tired.

“You’re insane.”

She grinned. “Absolutely. But I know something they don’t.”

“What’s that?”

She reached over and tucked a wild strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re the baddest thing in this damn pack — they just don’t know it yet.”

"Okay, sit your pretty behind down and don’t move unless you're ready to get electrocuted."

Mira tossed a flat iron onto the bed like she was about to conduct a science experiment — not fix my disaster of a head.

I blinked at her. “Do I need to sign a waiver?”

She shot me a grin, already rummaging through her makeup bag like it was a chest of holy relics. “Nah. You’ve survived the triplets. You can survive me.”

After the day I had? Honestly, she wasn’t wrong.

The moment the final bell rang, Mira practically yanked me from the school parking lot like a girl on a mission. She didn’t even let me argue. Just stuffed me into her Jeep, rolled the windows down, and blasted music like it was therapy.

And now, here we were — in her room, lights warm and cozy, clothes and cosmetics scattered everywhere like glittery confetti.

“You really don’t have to do all this,” I mumbled as she plugged the flat iron in.

Mira paused, hands on her hips. “Aria, you’ve been a punching bag for years. You don’t even realize how fire you are, and it’s honestly offensive.”

I snorted. “Offensive?”

“Absolutely. Like, I’d kill for your cheekbones. Your hair is basically goddess-tier once we tame it. And don’t get me started on those eyes. You’ve been hiding all this from the world and I’m personally insulted.”

I smiled, soft. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now shut up and let me slay.”

The next hour felt like a movie montage.

First, my hair — Mira straightened it to silky perfection, parting it down the middle, tucking one side behind my ear. “You look like a literal enchantress,” she whispered, admiring her work like I was some ancient artifact.

Then the makeup. Light foundation, winged liner so sharp it could murder egos, a soft rosy lip that made me look like I’d just been kissed by a freaking angel. “Natural but deadly,” Mira declared, nodding like a proud stylist.

Next, the outfit. She raided her closet and pulled out a black cropped sweater, high-waisted jeans that hugged in all the right places, and a sleek pair of boots.

When I stood in front of her mirror, I didn’t recognize the girl staring back.

She was... glowing.

Not because she wanted attention. But because she finally saw a version of herself that wasn’t built on surviving — but thriving.

I blinked at my reflection. “Holy crap.”

Mira beamed, arms crossed. “Told you.”

I turned to her. “You’re some kind of witch.”

“Only on the weekends,” she winked.

The drive to the mansion felt surreal.

For once, I wasn’t curling into myself. I wasn’t bracing for insults or stares. I let the window down and let the cool air run through my fingers like I was some girl in a music video.

“You ready for this?” Mira asked as we pulled up to the estate gates.

“No,” I laughed. “But I’ve got really great eyeliner, so I’ll fake it.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Inside, the living room buzzed with noise.

I stepped in quietly, unsure what I was walking into — until I spotted them.

The triplets.

Of course.

Kael, Rian, and Luca, each lounging on separate couches like royalty. And next to them? The usual clingy suspects — their girlfriends, draped over them like expensive accessories.

Kael had some model-type girl giggling against his shoulder. Rian had his arm thrown lazily around a redhead who looked like she hadn’t blinked in hours. Luca’s girl was whispering something in his ear, biting her lip like she was in a music video.

I was about to just sneak by — but then they saw me.

Oh.

Three heads turned.