Filed to story: Watch Out, I’m The Lady Boss (Eleanor & Sebastian) Book PDF Free
Dark sky. No stars. Just cloud cover and the faint hum of the city pressing in from every side.
I turned to him, confused.
He counted, “Three. Two. One.”The sky split open.
Not lightning. Not thunder.
Fireworks.
Red. Gold. Blue. White.
A burst, then ten more.
Then hundreds.
They came from rooftops, from cranes, from somewhere across the river.
Some small and sharp, others fat and slow like molten coins melting against the sky.
Sparks rained down the sides of glass towers, lit up the windows, turned the clouds pink and silver.
I forgot to breathe.
There were too many to count.
The air smelled like sulphur and burnt sugar.
A low rumble shook the concrete under my boots.
It didn’t stop.
I lost track of how long I stood there.
Minutes. Maybe longer.
Eventually, the last one flickered out.
The sky emptied.
Then the noise came back all at once.
Shouting, whistling, high-pitched screams-so many voices I couldn’t tell one from the other.
I blinked. My ears rang.
People had stopped walking. Everyone was looking up.
Phones were everywhere, arms stretched high, cameras flashing.
The pavement pulsed with footsteps and voices.
“These are insane. Who the hell paid for that many at once?”
“What’s the occasion?”
“It’s not just here. My cousin’s across town, said the whole skyline’s lit up.”
“So bloody massive. I can feel the heat from here.”
“Must be some rich brat showing off. I’m not complaining.”
“Not a holiday. Not even a public event. Someone planned that for a private reason.”
“Post it to your feed, quick!”
“What for? Everyone in the city’s already seen it.”The sky dimmed, one flicker at a time.
Blue faded to grey.
The clouds swallowed the colour.
The air felt heavier again, like it had been stretched and snapped back too fast.
I turned to Sebastian.
I couldn’t see properly.
My vision hadn’t adjusted.
Everything looked smeared and too bright, like a lens had fogged.
He looked at me with those eyes. Wide, sharp, too focused.
They caught the last of the light.
Or maybe they made their own.
He said, “They’re for you. Did you like them?”My pulse kicked hard.
I felt it in my throat, in my ribs, behind my eyes.
It took me a second to get my voice out.
“Yeah. I did.”His mouth curved.
“Good.”He squeezed my hand again.
Then he said, quiet but clear, “It’s not over. Look up again.”I did.
The sky had turned black again, but tiny white lights started blinking above us, slow and irregular.
They shimmered in and out, then clustered together, moving across the dark in sharp, deliberate strokes.
The words came one at a time.
All.
For.
You.
Happy.
Birthday.
The lights stayed for a beat, then scattered, drifting outward like sparks caught in a breeze.
They shrank, pulling higher and farther until they disappeared past the rooftops.
Then silence.
Sebastian’s voice reached my car as if from a dream.
“Thad a whole speech planned. None of it felt right. Too many big words. Too much fluff. I figured simple would do better. So, happy birthday, Elean.”I turned towards him.
Words failed me.
“I thought about presents. Something tangible. Jewellery, shoes, bags. But they all break, get lost, get thrown out. This”-he gestured towards the sky- “you might remember.”He leaned down. His lips brushed the corner of my mouth.
“May your life be filled with many more such memories, Elean.”Then he pulled back.
My skin burned where his mouth had touched me.
He took my hand again, gently tugging me towards the studio.
“You’re freezing. Come inside.”The door shut behind us with a soft clunk.
Heat rolled over me the second we stepped in, thick and dry.
My fingers twitched as the blood came back.
He gave a short laugh, half under his breath.
“By the way, the fireworks were eco-friendly. Full permit too. Don’t worry.”He held something up in his other hand.
“Happy birthday,” he said again.
He placed it on the worktable.
The cake inside was tiny.
Four inches, maybe.
Enough for two.
The icing was smooth and white, with a single purple flower piped dead centre.
No glitter, no sprinkles.
Just that flower, neat, precise, a shade darker than amethyst.
Primrose, my birth flower.
I stared at it for a few seconds.
“Thanks,” I said quietly, before my voice could crack.
He lit a candle on top, just one, and grinned at me.
“Make a wish.”The flame flickered.
I closed my eyes.
Nothing came to mind straight away.