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SERAPHINA

The warm glow of string lights reflected in the wine glasses at Azul, one of Miami's trendiest waterfront restaurants. Outside, palm trees draped in holiday lights swayed against the backdrop of Biscayne Bay. The December evening was balmy in typical South Florida fashion.

Seraphina Lucero sat at a circular table, surrounded by friends whose faces blurred slightly from the two glasses of wine she had already consumed. The restaurant hummed with conversation and laughter, mingling with Latin jazz playing softly in the background.

"Make a wish, Sera!" Abby leaned forward, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, the tight white dress she wore accentuating every curve. Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief. "Thirty is when the real fun starts."

Seraphina rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. "That's what people say when they've accepted their youth is gone."

"Speak for yourself, grandma." Abby winked, raising her wine glass.

Seraphina took a deep breath, gazing at the thirty candles burning atop the decadent chocolate cake. The flames danced,hypnotic and golden. Thirty. How had that happened? It seemed like yesterday she was finishing her doctorate mapping celestial bodies and plotting her career path. Now here she was, a full-fledged adult with a mortgage and a 401k.

She closed her eyes, made a silent wish for something—anything—exciting to happen in her methodical life, and blew out the candles in one breath. The table erupted in cheers and applause.

"What did you wish for?" Abby nudged her with an elbow.

"If I tell you, it won't come true." Seraphina reached for the cake knife.

As she positioned the blade above the cake, something strange happened. The restaurant seemed to blur around her, sounds fading as if someone had turned down the volume. In perfect clarity, she saw a waiter approach their table, a tray balanced on his palm with a single glass of red wine. The waiter moved closer just as Abby, laughing at something, pushed her chair back and stood. Their trajectories were set to collide.

Seraphina watched, frozen, as Abby bumped the waiter's arm. The wine glass toppled, its contents pouring like crimson rain over Abby's pristine white dress.

"No!" Seraphina gasped, dropping the cake knife with a clatter. She lunged toward Abby, napkins clutched in her hand.

Abby stared at her, mid-laugh. "What's wrong?"

Seraphina blinked. There was no waiter. No spilled wine. Abby's dress remained immaculate white. The restaurant noise returned to normal volume.

"I—I thought—" Seraphina looked around, disoriented. "I saw wine spilling all over your dress."

The table fell silent before breaking into laughter.

"Did you start the party without us, Dr. Lucero?" one of her friends teased.

"Hazard of turning thirty—hallucinations!" another chimed in.

Abby's smile softened. "You okay, Sera? You look pale."

"I'm fine." Seraphina forced a laugh. "Too much wine."

She put down the napkins in her hands, suddenly needing space. "I'll be right back."

"Don't fall in!" Abby called after her, already turning back to the conversation.

Seraphina headed toward the restroom, her heart pounding against her ribs. What had just happened? It had felt so real—not like imagination or daydreaming, but like watching a scene unfold before her eyes.

Seraphina soon dabbed her face with a paper towel, the cool water helping to clear her mind. Her reflection stared back at her in the bathroom mirror, her green eyes wide with uncertainty. What had that vision been? A trick of the light, maybe. Too much wine. Stress from turning thirty. There had to be a logical explanation.

"Get it together, Sera," she whispered to herself, tucking her black hair behind her ear. "You study stars, not futures."

She straightened her emerald cocktail dress and headed back toward the table, her mind still racing with scientific explanations for what she'd experienced. Stress-induced hallucination. Minor temporal lobe dysfunction. The neural pathways?—

"Oh my GOD!"

Abby's shriek sliced through Seraphina's thoughts. Time seemed to slow as she watched the exact scene from her vision unfold before her eyes. The waiter—the same one she had seen in her mind—stumbled as Abby pushed back her chair. The glass of red wine tipped, its contents arcing through the air in slow motion before splattering across Abby's white dress.