Celebrating my birthday this Saturday isn’t my idea. If I had any control, I’d choose to forgo the celebration, skipping right over the day like it doesn’t exist. A blot on the calendar that nobody notices is missing.

But—and this is a very unfortunate but—the control is out of my hands. Freya, my loves-to-party work colleague, has taken the reigns.

Freya has been trying to get me to go on a night out with her since the day she joined my team. I always said no, but when her complaints became too exhausting, I decided to offer an alternative: I would go out with her on my thirtieth, and she could plan it.

Why, oh why, Evelyn, did you say that?

In my defence, I made the proposition three years ago, and, to be brutally honest, I didn’t think she’d still be around by the time it came. To call her a slacker would be to understate her ability to avoid doing work.

Bad work ethic or no, I can’t deny the girl has a good memory. And now here she is, still working beside me. Remembering.

“We’re still on for Saturday, right?” she asks from her desk opposite mine.

I keep my eyes on my screen. “I doubt you’ll let me cancel now even if I wanted to.” I could be bed-ridden with a life-ending illness, and she’d still claw me out.

“E-ve-lyn,” she complains, drawing out each syllable. “Come on. This is your thirtieth we’re talking about. Can’t you be at least a little excited? I’ve been excited for years!”

“You do know that I never thought you’d actually remember?”

“Well, I did.” Her smile is all smug, zero modesty. “So, can you be excited with me?”

I know how she must see me. The death of a party. But Freya is twenty-two years old and has no idea what it feels like to turn thirty. She doesn’t yet know about the looming dread that creeps towards a person as this day approaches. Or how it seems like your whole life is laid before you and illuminated in mockingly bright, shining colours is everything you’ve failed to achieve.

Am I single? Yes. Broke? Check that box. Living back home with Mum, Dad, and devil-spawn brother? Bury me because it’s true.

I groan and hit my head against the table.

“That’s not the excitement I was going for,” Freya sulks.

I look up to find her frowning. “Do I not look excited?”

“You look about as excited as when Ryan told you to extend your testing.”

“Ah, Ryan.” I hit my head against the table again. “Whenever will you promote me?”

That’s another thing to add to my list of failures—I’ve been working here for years and still haven’t made manager.

Life? Winning.

“You should have been promoted already,” Freya says. “You’re really good at this job.”

Besides being a slacker, Freya is also a major suck-up, and I can admit to loving it. “Thanks, Freya,” I mumble. “I’ll try to be more excited for you.”

“That’s the spirit.”

We work for a bit longer, and then Freya turns into my daily human clock. She starts packing her bag at precisely four fifty-nine, unwilling to work a second over five.

“See you tomorrow?” she asks.

“Sure thing.”

I watch her leave with bemusement before remembering I need to keep working. If I want to make manager here—and I do—I need to prove that I’m willing to spend my valuable personal time on driving audits to the finish line. It isn’t unusual for me to stay past eight in the evening, but today, I work until seven-thirty before packing my bag, knocking lightly on the door to my manager’s office on my way to the exit.

“Ah, Evelyn,” Ryan says, leaning back on his black corporate chair and piercing me with his gaze. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Ryan, with his light blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, made manager at a young age, meaning he’s my superior, but I’m two years older than him. I’ve also worked here for longer, but I try not to dwell on that fact for fear of a bruised ego.

“I’ve finished the purchase ledger test,” I tell him. “Finally.”

His eyes light up as he swings his chair forward. “Ah, wonderful! Or,” he scans my face, taking in my expression with furrowing brows, “not wonderful?”

“It failed.”

He exhales a puff of air. “Are you sure?”

This is always Ryan’s reaction when I tell him something has failed. Are you sure you did it right?

“I ran the test three times,” I say, keeping my tone steady. “I checked the results both manually and computerised. I’m sure.”

“I just don’t see how that could be.” He leans back again, staring at me like he expects I have the answer. “The company director was sure they’d pass with flying colours. Can you extend the test?”

My muscles tense. More work. “Sure,” I say, forcing myself to relax. “It might push us to the deadline, but Freya and I can do it.”

“That’s why I like having you on my team,” he grins. “You get the work done.”

Is that why you refuse to promote me? I think. So I can stay your minion?

“See you tomorrow, Ryan.”

“See you tomorrow, Evelyn.”

When I get home, I pause outside the garden, staring at my childhood house that, until four months ago, I hadn’t lived in for nearly a decade. My stomach clenches as I think about Connor, my on-and-off again ex-boyfriend of seven years, and the apartment we used to rent together. No, I tell myself firmly. I won’t think about him now.

“I’m home,” I call when I enter the hall, kicking off my shoes and placing them on the rack.

“Welcome home, sweetie,” Mum says, appearing at the doorway as she always does when I get back. “How was your day?”

“Busy, but good, thanks.” I follow her into the living room, where Dad is snoozing, and my twenty-three-year-old brother, Kyle, is staring at his phone.

Some things never change.

Taking the empty seat beside my brother, I nudge his arm. “Shouldn’t you be helping with the dishes or something? Ever since I moved back in, all you’ve done is stare at your phone.”

“At least I’m not thirty and living with Mum and Dad,” he retorts.

Point one to Kyle. “At least I’ve lived on my own before,” I snipe back, although it doesn’t feel like a win. “If you moved out, I bet you’d die within the week because you don’t know how to feed yourself.”

“Oh, I’d know how to feed myself,” he says, looking up for the first time. His smile turns cruel. “I’d go out with my friends, of which you have zero.”

I open my mouth to respond, but before I can do that, he picks up his headphones and, very pointedly, places them over his ears. “Can’t hear you,” he says with a look that I want to wipe off his face. “Not sorry.”

“Fine,” I turn away with folded arms, a deep scowl on my face. Living back here with him makes me feel at least ten years younger, which makes sense, considering he still acts like a teenager.

“So,” Mum says, pulling my eyes to her. “Has Connor messaged you recently?”

My mouth falls open. She knows not to mention him, knows that it causes a deep wound inside my chest each time she does. Because the truth is, Connor hasn’t messaged me. Not once. It’s been a clean break, something I suppose I should be thankful for, but it hurts. God, does it hurt. “No,” I answer, my voice quiet as I sink back into the sofa and wrap my arms around my chest.

“Oh, don’t look so defeated,” she says. “I only ask so I know what I’m working with. Irene, our neighbour, has a son who’s recently single, too,” she explains. “The two of us were toying with the idea of setting the two of you up on a date, since you’re around the same age.”

“I’m not that desperate, Mum.” Although a niggle at the back of my brain tells me otherwise. Really, how am I supposed to find someone now? I don’t have a social life, I live at home with my parents, and the thought of going on a date? Literally makes my stomach turn. “Besides,” I say, swallowing against my rising fear. “I don’t think I’m ready to move on.”

“Oh, come now, Evelyn.” She shakes her head in exasperation. “I don’t mean to sound harsh, but you’re thirty and living with us. When I was your age, I was married to your dad, with the two of you running around.”

Annnnnd there it is. The real reason why I lay awake at night, fearing for my future. I’m starting to think my mother is the reason for this relentless anxiety clawing at my insides. Ever since I was little, it’s been ingrained in me that I should have my life together by thirty—that I should be successful and married and have a family of my own. Yet here I am, still at home.

“I guess I can go on one date with him,” I relent.

She relaxes. “Good. I’ll set it up.”

I go to bed and lay awake for hours, trying not to think about anything yet thinking about a million things at once. The next morning, I get my stuff together and head to work early. The streets are quiet, but the city is already springing to life, with daily commuters taking their separate routes.

As I walk, my thoughts are preoccupied with future dates and impending loneliness. This is why I don’t immediately notice the boy standing outside my office. When I do, my eyes do a double take.

A strange sense of familiarity flickers within me as I get closer. I tilt my head, eyes glued to him as my hand stretches for the revolving door. He looks young, fresh into his twenties, with a youthful face and boyish charm. He has dark brown hair, ruffled slightly, with thick brows that are furrowed as he looks up at my building. I would have remembered seeing him around here before…

Wait—

My eyes widen as it clicks. “Eli Miller?” I gasp.

The young man turns to face me, his frown deepening.

No. It can’t be him. The last time I saw Eli Miller—Kyle’s best friend from childhood— was when I’d driven him to the airport years ago, and he’d flown off to study music in America. Besides, this boy is too assured to be Eli. Eli was always the small, shy one—the kid who lingered at the back and hardly spoke a word.

As I think this, his frown suddenly clears, and his whole face lights up. “Evelyn Taylor?” he asks, first in awe and then with a huge grin. “The Evelyn Taylor?

“It is you!” I grin in return. Eli’s smile, I remember, could always light up a room, but it seems to have gotten even lovelier with age. His skin has that golden hue that can only come from living in the sun, and his teeth look white against it. “You’ve changed.”

A laugh I’m all too familiar with rings out of him. “You say that like you’re surprised.”

“I am surprised.” While he still has those boyish features that always made him look younger than the others, his jawline has sharpened, and I swear he’s grown a few feet. But that’s not the only change that surprises me. It’s… him. The way he holds himself. “You’re all grown up.”

“Well, it has been five years since the last time we saw each other.”

“Five years?” My jaw falls open. It’s been that long? “What does that make you now?” I try to work it out, but then I realise he must be Kyle’s age. “Twenty-three?”

“Just turned twenty-four,” his smile widens, and he stands a little taller.

I give him a smile. “You know twenty-four means you’re still a baby?”

“I’m not a baby anymore, Eves.” He leans toward me, lowering his voice to a whisper. “I date women now.” And then he winks. Eli Miller actually winks.

“Eli!” I swat his arm as he steps back with a chuckle.

“So,” he says, folding his arms as he examines me. “How old are you now? Forty? Fifty?”

My mouth drops open again, but then he laughs, and I realise he’s joking. “That’s not funny,” I try to scold. After a second, I laugh with him. “Really, it’s not funny!”

“Ah, I’ve missed that,” he says, his laughter waning into a soft smile as he watches me.

My laughter fades with him. “Missed what?”

He blinks, and the look is gone as two blotches appear high on his cheekbones. “Nothing.” He rubs the back of his neck, turning his face away.

Now this is the Eli I remember. The boy who gets shy for no reason.

“Wait a second,” I tilt my head. “Why are you here?” A jolt of fear bursts through me as I think about Mr. and Mrs. Miller. “Are your parents okay?”

“They’re fine,” he assures me. “Better than fine, actually. They’re currently on a six-month retirement cruise.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Mum had already told me that, but clearly, I’ve been so out of it that I haven’t been retaining information.

Eli’s parents live a few blocks down from us, which explains why Eli was always over at our house when he was younger. It also explains why I can’t believe the kid from back then is the young man I’m looking at now.

“Are you visiting?” I ask.

“I’m actually here for an interview,” he looks back up at my building, the frown returning to his face.

“You’re interviewing at Bazettes?” My mouth drops open again. “We might be working together?”

He looks at me in puzzlement. “Actually, no.” Looking upwards, he points to the top floor. “I’m interviewing at Robin Records. As an intern.”

“Oh,” I exhale as the relief hits me. If Eli was no longer involved in music, I think I’d cry. “I sometimes forget we aren’t the only ones with a lease here. An internship at Robin Records,” I whistle through my teeth. “That’s impressive.”

“That’s if I get it.” He gives me a nervous smile before frowning. “Wait—you’re still working in audit?”

“Yes,” I sigh. “And you have a good memory.”

“I remember a lot about you.” A fierce blush rises up his face again.

I laugh. “Kyle’s crazy older sister. Yep, I’m not surprised you remember things about me.”

His embarrassment fades as he peers back at me. “I also remember that you wanted to be a writer. How’s that going?”

“Ah, that old dream.” I sigh and rub my arm, moving my eyes to the floor. “I chose the more practical route.” A nod to the building beside us. “Audit.”

“Hey,” he leans down until his eyes are level with mine. “A dream is still a dream, right? It’s never too late to go for it, and you should do what you love.”

“But—”

“Hey, Evelyn. What are you doing out here?”

I don’t need to turn to know that Freya has arrived, but it is a surprise that she’s here early. Unless speaking to Eli has made time hit the acceleration pedal. “Hey, Freya,” I say, shooting him an apologetic glance as I turn.

“And who is this?” She smiles prettily at Eli, extending her hand like we’re in a business meeting or a royal gathering.

He takes it with a pretty smile of his own. “Eliot.”

I tilt my head. “Eliot,” I repeat. Not Eli. “This is Freya, my work colleague. Freya, this is Eliot, my—” I tilt my head further, unsure what to call someone who I haven’t seen for years.

Eli mimics me, an amused smile playing on his lips. “Friend?” he suggests.

“Friend,” I agree, even though it’s more accurate to say I’m his actual friend’s older sister.

“Will you be coming to Evelyn’s thirtieth this Saturday?” Freya asks. I shoot her a look, feeling suddenly older, standing beside these early-twenty-year-olds. “What?” she laughs. “It’s your big three-oh. Your big thirty. Your—”

“We need to go inside,” I grab her hand and pull her with me, steering her towards the door. “It was nice seeing you again, Eli! I mean Eliot!” I wave a hand over my shoulder. “Good luck with the interview!” When Freya continues protesting, I whisper, “Stop telling people I’m turning thirty!”

I hear Eli laugh behind me. “It was good seeing you again, Eves. See you soon.”