Chapter 2 It's My Birthday.

The first rule of attending my birthday party is simple.

Never arrive before me.

The second rule is even simpler.

Never wear the same dress as me.

Unfortunately, someone had already broken both rules, and I hadn't even made it through the entrance.

"Jenna!"

The crowd erupted. Flashbulbs exploded from every direction, reporters shouted over one another, and someone behind the barricade screamed my name like they'd just witnessed a miracle.

I smiled and waved.

Celebrity life. Very normal. Very peaceful.

A reporter thrust a microphone toward me.

"Jenna! How does it feel to be forty?"

I stopped and looked at her.

"That's a very aggressive way to ask someone's age."

She laughed. "So how does it feel?"

"Like thirty-nine with better lighting."

The crowd laughed.

Another reporter called out, "What's your secret to looking this good at forty?"

I pointed toward Lily, my stylist and my makeup artist, Vanessa.

"Money."

Lily's mouth fell open.

"I'm joking!" I added. "Mostly skincare, water, sleep, and minding my business. Emphasis on minding my business."

A voice behind the barricade shouted, "You don't mind your business!"

I stopped.

"Who said that?"

Silence.

"Come out. Let's discuss this."

Nobody volunteered.

Cowards.

I was about to continue when a woman in an elegant gown stepped into my path. She was beautiful, confident, and wearing a dress so similar to mine that I briefly wondered whether I had a twin.

We looked at each other's dresses.

"Oh, no," I whispered.

She laughed. "When I saw your photos, I knew we'd look like twins!"

"Twins? Darling, this is a birthday party, not a fashion emergency."

We laughed and posed for pictures together. It was a lovely moment, really.

I hated every second of it.

Now I was regretting not wearing my custom dress. Nothing says happy birthday like accidentally coordinating with a stranger in front of hundreds of cameras.

By the time I reached the ballroom, my cheeks hurt from smiling.

The room was spectacular. Flowers covered the tables, crystal chandeliers glittered overhead, and a giant screen displayed photographs from different stages of my life.

I pointed at one.

"Who approved that?"

Chloe appeared beside me. "Approved what?"

"That outfit. Those eyebrows. That hair. I look like I was styled during a power outage."

"You were twenty-seven."

"Which means mirrors already existed."

She burst out laughing.

"You were so proud of that look."

"Please don't tell me that. I have enough problems."

"You once told a reporter it represented your personal evolution."

I closed my eyes.

"I'd like to evolve away from this conversation."

"Too late. It's on video."

I looked up at the camera.

"To whoever edits this documentary, I am begging you to show mercy."

The little red light blinked.

I took that as a no.

Then my mother arrived.

Elena Russell had a special talent for making me feel as though I'd been caught doing something wrong, even when I was simply standing there.

She hugged me, stepped back, and examined my dress.

I knew something was going to come out of her mouth.

"Couldn't you wear something less revealing?"

"Mum, I'm forty."

"Exactly. You should know better."

"Happy birthday to me."

She laughed and kissed my cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too."

"And you're wearing too much makeup."

I turned to Chloe. "Please tell me somebody has adopted me."

Chloe laughed.

My mother linked her arm through mine.

"Have you eaten?"

"I had a strawberry."

"A strawberry?"

"It was a very large strawberry."

She gave me a look.

"Fine. I'll eat something."

"Good."

For all the noise around us, walking beside her felt comforting. She had known me before the fame, before the headlines, before strangers began treating my life like a public property.

She still saw the girl who had once cried because she wasn't allowed to wear lipstick to school.

It was sweet.

It was also inconvenient whenever I wanted to appear mysterious and sophisticated.

Across the room, my father spotted me and raised his glass.

I blew him a kiss.

He mouthed, Behave yourself.

I mouthed back, No promises.

He shook his head, smiling.

Family. The only people who could embarrass me without needing internet access.

Soon, the host stepped onto the stage.

"Good evening, everyone! Tonight, we celebrate thirteen incredible years and remarkable journey. of My Life Is a Movie: A Jenna Russell Documentary!"

The audience cheered.

I leaned toward Chloe.

"If he says 'remarkable journey' one more time, I'm leaving. He always says that every year."

"You can't leave your own birthday party."

"Watch me."

The host gestured toward the giant screen.

"And now, let's look back at some of Jenna's most unforgettable moments!"

I slowly turned toward Chloe.

"How bad is it?"

"Very."

The screen lit up.

Twenty-seven-year-old me appeared in an interview chair, wearing an outfit that should have come with a public apology.

The ballroom erupted in laughter.

I covered my face.

"Oh, absolutely not!"

On the screen, the interviewer asked, "Where do you see yourself in ten years?"

My younger self smiled confidently.

"Married with three children."

The audience roared.

I lowered my hands.

"That woman was a liar!"

Someone shouted, "Jenna, what happened?

"She made promises without consulting me!"

The laughter continued until the next clip appeared.

Young Jenna leaned toward the camera.

"I want a quiet life. I'd rather have happiness and privacy than spend my whole life being watched. I just want to be known for my talent. That's all. I want my life to be strictly professional."

This time, I didn't laugh.

I watched my younger self smile, completely unaware that strangers would one day analyze my expressions, discuss my relationships, and turn my most ordinary moments into headlines.

A quiet life.

I'd wanted it so easily.

As though privacy were something I could simply choose.

The host returned to the stage.

"Jenna, if you could give your younger self one piece of advice, what would it be?"

I picked up the microphone.

"Invest in better eyebrows."

The room exploded with laughter.

"And never trust a stylist who tells you orange and purple are the new black."

Lily shouted from somewhere behind me, "I HEARD THAT!"

I laughed with everyone else.

For a little while, I forgot about the cameras.

Then the birthday cake arrived.

It was enormous, with forty candles blazing across the top.

I stared at it.

"Who ordered this?"

Chloe looked innocent. "You approved it."

"I approved a cake, not a small architectural project."

The room darkened as everyone began singing.

I looked around at the flowers, the chandeliers, the smiling faces, and the cameras recording my every reaction.

Then I closed my eyes.

I wished for freedom.

Not another award. Not another house. Not another successful film.

Just one day that belonged to me.

One day when I could walk outside without a camera following me, make a mistake without millions of people discussing it, and exist without having to turn every moment into entertainment.

I blew out the candles.

The room erupted in applause.

Someone shouted that I looked thirty.

That person deserved a bonus.

Chloe hugged me.

"Happy birthday, Jenna."

"Thank you, lovie"

Not so long, my mother pulled me into another photograph.

The moment passed, swallowed by music and the endless parade of people wanting my attention.

But something else was missing.

Anne.

My best friend had been beside me through the worst auditions, the most humiliating headlines, and the moments when fame had made me question my own sanity. She was the one person who could tell me the truth without worrying about whether I'd like it.

Yet she hadn't arrived.

"Chloe, have you seen Anne today?"

She shook her head.

"Call her, please."

Chloe dialed. No answer.

I tried myself. Nothing.

Concern quickly turned into irritation. Anne was many things, but unreliable wasn't one of them.

"Maybe she's on her way," Chloe suggested.

"She would've called."

My mother and father asked about her too. Even Eva, Anne's younger sister, couldn't tell us where she was.

What bothered me most was that nobody else seemed to notice her absence. The guests had come for me. The cameras were pointed at me. The world was celebrating Jenna Russell, and apparently everyone else was just part of the scenery.

I hated that.

Anne deserved to be missed.

By 2 o'clock in the afternoon, the party was in full swing. My father was dancing with my mother, and Chloe was laughing at his attempts to keep up with the music.

"Your father's dancing like he's negotiating a business deal," she said.

"He's probably trying to acquire the dance floor."

I laughed, but my eyes kept drifting toward the entrance.

Every time the doors opened, I looked up.

Every time, it was someone else.

I had spent the evening smiling, posing, and pretending that being watched was the most natural thing in the world.

But as another photographer called my name, I realized how tired I was.

I wanted to be Jenna without being a headline. A daughter without being a documentary subject. A friend without having to wonder whether the person who knew me best was missing for a reason.

I wanted my life back.

And for the first time that evening, I stopped smiling for the cameras.

I didn't know where Anne was.

And I didn't know why the day suddenly felt different from every other day of my life.

I only knew that I wanted this birthday to end.

I just didn't know how soon I'd get my wish.