Ep 37,5 - Operation Birthday

The sun dipped low over Odenton, turning the dormitory windows a soft gold. Inside the living room, the girls were scattered in lazy clusters—half sprawled across couches, half pretending to read something. The air felt calm, unhurried. Content.

Michelle sat near the window, scrolling through files on her tablet, absently humming—until she suddenly froze. Her eyes widened. “...No way.”

She double-checkd, then looks up. “Girls,” she said slowly, “you know what day’s coming up?”

Aiko glanced over. “Uh… laundry day?”

“Or another training schedule update from Lang?” Aya groaned. “Please tell me no.”

“No,” Michelle said, grinning now. “Better. Trella’s birthday.”

The room went still. Then—

“Wait,” Anya said. “We have birthdays?”

“That’s… new,” Mei-Ling added.

“You mean we’ve never celebrated anyone’s?” Michelle asked.

“I think the last birthday we had,” Liza said thoughtfully, “was when Aya bought herself cake after that bounty job in Rio.”

“That was self-care,” Aya shot back. “Totally different.”

“And most of us don't even know when exactly they were born,” Aiko added.

“Well, not this time,” Michelle said. “We’re doing it properly. Decorations, cake, presents, party.”

Samira snickered. “So… Operation Birthday Surprise?”

“Exactly. And the mission objective,” Michelle added, “is keeping it secret from Trella.”

Everyone exchanged uneasy looks.

“That’s like sneaking past a bloodhound with a PhD in psychology,” Talia muttered.

“She literally profiles people for fun,” Aya said.

“We’ll need stealth, coordination and nerves of steel,” Mei-Ling said seriously.

“And snacks,” Aiko added.

Michelle nodded. “All right, let’s assign roles. Talia, you handle the tech — disable any surveillance she might accidentally install to see what we’re hiding.”

“Got it,” Talia said. “Spy-proofing the house.”

“Liza, you and Aiko handle the cake.”

“I’ll make sure it’s not explosive,” Liza promised.

“Not this time, right?” Aiko said, hopeful.

Snickers followed.

“Aya, Mei-Ling and Katya, you're on decorations and distraction detail.

“Copy that,” Aya said. “Operation Confuse Trella commencing.”

“And I’ll handle the gifts,” Michelle finished. “Something personal. Something that says she’s more than just our strategist.”

“You mean something sentimental,” Mei-Ling said softly.

“Exactly.”

The mood shifted—quieter now, warmer. Everybody realized what this means.

“You know,” Maya said, “it’s kind of nice. We’ve never really done this.”

“Feels like family stuff,” Anya added.

“That’s because it is,” Michelle said.

Everyone smiled, even Aya, who pretended not to, like she hoped no one noticed.

“Alright,” Michelle clapped her hands. “One week. Let’s make it unforgettable.”

***

Plans sprawled across a whiteboard like a military operation. Sticky notes, arrows labeled ‘Cake,’ ‘Gift,’ ‘Trella Distraction Plan.’

“This looks like we’re plotting a coup, not a party,” Aya said, squinting.

“Both require precision and plausible deniability,” Michelle replied.

“I’m putting that on a mug,” Mei-Ling said.

In the kitchen, chaos reigned. Flour coated every surface. Aiko read the recipe upside down while Liza stirred something faintly glowing blue.

“Is it supposed to bubble?” Aiko asked.

“It’s called creative chemistry,” Liza said.

“It’s called a hazmat waiting to happen!” Aiko replied and right on cue a small “poof!” of smoke. The fire alarm went off. Talia rushes in with a mini-extinguisher, her expression completely flat.

“Science experiment or dessert?”

Liza considered it. “…Yes.”

Trella stepped into the living room, eyes already narrowed with suspicion. Before she could speak, Aya leaped to her feet. “TRELLA!” she shouted far too loudly. “We should totally go shopping. Like. Right now.”

Trella blinked. “…Shopping? You?”

“Yes,” Aya said instantly. “For… socks.”

Katya nodded beside her, slow, stiff and completely unconvincing, like a malfunctioning robot confirming orders.

Trella folded her arms. “You’re hiding something.”

“I’m hiding my bad fashion sense,” Aya said, grabbing her wrist, “now move!”

Aya practically dragged her out the door while everyone else breathed a sigh of relief.

***

Maya’s fingers flew over her laptop as Talia attached a tiny sensor to the wall.

“Trella keeps checking network logs,” Maya muttered. “She’s sniffing for traffic spikes.”

“Then I’ll make fake ones,” Talia replied calmly. “She’ll think someone’s streaming cat videos in 4K again.”

Maya glanced up. “That was you last time.”

“Exactly,” Talia said. “Plausible pattern behavior.”

In the meantime Michelle snuck into Trella’s room with a flashlight in hand. She opened a drawer, found a small picture of where she was much younger and had a pendant on her neck.

“I’ve never seen her wear it,” she whispered. “I wonder if she still has it… But it’s an idea. Something personal.”

She pocketed a note of inspiration - an idea for the gift. Then suddenly Trella’s voice echoed from the hallway. “Michelle? Are you in there?”

Michelle barely had time to react before diving under the bed. The door opened. Trella stepped inside, frowning.

“…Weird,” she murmured. “I could’ve sworn I heard something.”

From under the bed, Michelle’s comm clicked softly. “Abort, abort,” she whispered. “I’m under the bed with dust bunnies the size of Anya’s ego.”

Anya’s voice crackled back. “Rude, but accurate.”

***

The evening before the birthday party the girls were quietly sneaking decorations into the common room when Trella walked in, yawning.

“…What are you all doing up so late?”

They froze. A single balloon squeaked as Aiko tried to hide it behind her back.

“Uh…” Aya said. “Ghost hunting.”

Trella stared. “At midnight. With party streamers.”

“Fashionable ghosts.”

Trella narrowed her eyes, then shrugged and left.

As soon as she was gone—

“She totally knows,” Aya whispered.

“No,” Michelle replied grimly. “She’s letting us think she knows. That’s worse.”

***

Everything was finally ready. The cake stood intact—miraculously edible. Decorations were ready. Gifts were wrapped with uneven edges but genuine care. The girls stood together, tired and quiet, admiring the result.

“You think she’ll like it?” Anya asked softly.

“I think she’ll remember it,” Michelle said.

“Where do we put the cake so she doesn’t find it?” Maya asked.

“How about my place?” Michelle suggested. “She won’t be sniffing in our fridge… Now we just need to get her out of the house long enough to set up everything!”

Anya smiled slowly and dangerously. “Leave that to me. It’s shopping day.”

They exchanged tired smiles like sisters after a perfect operation.

***

Soft sunlight filtered through the freshly cleaned windows, catching on streamers and hand-drawn banners that swayed gently in the air. At the center of the room, a cake waited on the table. Slightly lopsided, unevenly frosted, but unmistakably made with care. The girls were hiding. Badly. Aya’s hair stuck out from behind the couch. Liza crouched behind the cake itself, frosting smeared on her nose. Katya slipped down from her self-appointed “observation nest,” whispering urgently that Trella and Anya were almost at the house. The front door opened.

“Surprise!!!”

Trella froze in the doorway. Her eyes went wide, she let go of the grocery bags and her hands twitched instinctively toward the place where a weapon would normally be.

“What the—?!”

Michelle stepped forward, grinning. “Happy birthday, Trella.”

Trella blinked, clearly caught off guard. “…You… you… How?”

“It took a week-long covert operation and a near kitchen fire,” Aya said. “But yeah.”

Liza lifted the cake proudly. “It’s edible! Probably…”

Laughter exploded through the room. Even Trella laughed. An unguarded smile, free of her usual sharp sarcasm.

The party was small, cozy and chaotic. Samira played music on her tablet, Mei-Ling danced like a maniac, Aya kept refilling everyone’s glasses with lemonade and Maya sat smugly with a slice of cake bigger than her plate. Trella watched them, her guard was slowly melting. For once, her posture wasn’t perfect. She was relaxed. Michelle stepped forward, holding a small, wrapped box.

“We all chipped in,” she said. “Something that’s just for you.”

Trella hesitated, then took it. She unwrapped it carefully. Inside was a small silver locket on a delicate chain and a framed photo of the entire team, together at the sanctuary. Someone (probably Aya) drew little cartoon hearts above everyone’s heads. And down an inscription: Always with you, sis!

Trella just stared at it. The sharp edge in her eyes softened, replaced by something vulnerable and unguarded.

“You idiots…” she murmured.

“Yeah,” Aiko said lightly. “But we’re your idiots.”

Trella’s voice trembled just a little. “No one ever… did something like this for me.”

Michelle placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Then it’s about time someone did.”

Trella put the locket on immediately. Her eyes glistened, but she covered it with a familiar smirk. “Alright. Fine. You got me emotional. Don’t get used to it.”

“Too late,” Aya said. “And I’m telling everyone.”

The room burst into laughter again. Trella rolled her eyes but smiled and for the first time in forever, she looked truly at peace. The chaos of wrapping paper and half-eaten cake filled the air. Trella was still dazed, laughing more than she had in months. Mei was snapping pictures on her phone, Aya was mock-threatening to post them all and Amelie was quietly sipping her juice, watching with her trademark smirk. Just as the laughter settled, Michelle’s phone buzzed on the table. A request for a video call.

“Oh no,” Aya groaned. “That’s Lang, isn’t it?”

“She’s going to assign us a mission right now,” Mei-Ling muttered. “I can feel it.”

Michelle just smiled. “You think so?”

Michelle connected the call to the big screen. The feed flickered. It wasn't Lang. Yael appeared instead, smiling warmly, with Marina and Marisa squeezed in beside her.

“Hey there, birthday girl.”

“Feliz aniversário, Trella!” Marina and Marisa said together.

Trella froze. She blinked, then covered her mouth as tears welled up instantly.

“You guys… you knew?”

“Of course we did,” Yael said. “Michelle gave us the idea. Said you deserved to be reminded that you’re loved too.”

“And next year,” Marina said, “cake’s on us.”

“Big one!” Marisa added.

Trella’s voice cracked; she laughed through the tears, shaking her head. “You’re all insane… all of you.”

“Maybe,” Michelle said softly. “But you’re family.”

The others fell quiet for a moment — that rare, honest silence that said more than words. Trella just nodded, unable to speak, the smile trembled on her lips.

Later that evening, the party wound down. The music softened. Lights dimmed. The girls sat scattered around the room, full of cake and contentment. Trella glances around the room — Michelle, Aya, Liza, Mei-Ling… all laughing quietly together.

“…Guess this is what family feels like,” she whispered.

She touched the locket, closed her eyes, and smiled faintly as the moment faded.

At night the house had gone still. The last of the laughter has faded down the hall. Empty cups and crumpled ribbons are all that remain of the chaos. Trella sat alone by the window, her jacket draped over her shoulders, the faint light of the moon catching the edges of her hair. She still wore the silver locket Michelle gave her. A simple, personal gift that somehow feels heavier than any medal she ever earned.

On her desk lay a small card from Yael and the twins, with a shaky line in Portuguese written by hand: Para nossa irmã de batalha. Nunca sozinha. She ran her thumb over the words and breathed out slowly. Her expression softened. The steel in her eyes was replaced by something warmer, more fragile.

“Never alone… huh?”

She leaned back and closed her eyes. For the first time in a long while, her guard was completely down—no missions, no orders, no ghosts from the past. Just a small circle of people who had chosen her. And as she drifted toward sleep, the faintest smile remains.

***

The next morning, sunlight poured through the kitchen curtains. The girls were gathered around the table, half-asleep, hair a mess, cereal bowls scattered everywhere. Trella walked in, fresh and calm, sipping coffee.

“Oh, look,” Aya said, grinning. “Emotionally stable Trella.”

“We were worried you’d short-circuit from all that human contact,” Mei-Ling added.

“Or melt into a puddle,” Amelie said. “Either way—ten out of ten performance.”

Trella raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You’re all hilarious.”

“Hey, don’t blame us,” Michelle said innocently. “I didn’t know you could cry that much.”

Trella shot her a glare. “I didn’t cry. There was just… smoke in the air.”

“Sure. Must’ve been that emotional smoke from your feelings,” Aya said.

Everyone burst out laughing, even Trella, who shook her head, smiling despite herself.

“You deserved a real birthday,” Michelle said softly once the noise died down.

Trella glanced around the table. Her eyes lingered on each of them — the chaos, the laughter, the warmth. And this time, no words were needed. She just smiled. A quiet, honest smile.