Ava Sinclair twirled in front of the mirror, watching her ginger curls bounce with every spin. The excitement bubbling inside her was impossible to contain.
"Two more days!" she squealed, spinning around to face her parents, who sat at the dining table. "I'll finally be eighteen!"
Her mother, Evelyn, gave a small smile while stirring her tea, but her father, Marcus, only nodded, his expression unreadable. They exchanged a look-so brief Ava barely caught it.
"I can't wait," she continued, dropping into a chair. "No more curfews. No more needing permission for everything. Just full freedom!"
Her father let out a short chuckle, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You already do what you want, Ava."
She grinned. "Yeah, but now it's official."
Her mother sighed softly. "Yes, sweetie. Eighteen is... a very important age."
There it was again-that odd tone in her mother's voice. Ava frowned. "You make it sound like I'm about to sign a royal decree or something. It's just a birthday."
Another glance passed between her parents. This time, Ava noticed.
Her father cleared his throat. "There are... things we need to talk about when you turn eighteen."
Ava arched an eyebrow. "Things?"
Her mother hesitated before nodding. "Yes. Things about who you really are."
Ava laughed, shaking her head. "What? I know who I am. Ava Sinclair. Your daughter."
Her father sighed, rubbing his temples. "It's not that simple."
A strange chill ran down her spine, but she ignored it. They were probably just being their usual overprotective selves.
Whatever it was, she'd find out soon enough.
For now, she just wanted to enjoy the countdown to her big day.