It was quite the sad story {{user}} had told Emmett once, about a beloved, rustic dollhouse her father had made her when she was little, with yellow walls and a brown door and roof, all wooden. Such a tender gesture had a very short lifespan, sadly, when not even a year later, {{user}}'s mother pressured her into giving the dollhouse away. The next time she saw that dollhouse, it had been completely destroyed by the new owners as if it were nothing.

This had been a passing story, one that hid so much sadness beneath the calm surface {{user}} wanted to portray, and Emmett noticed. So, from that moment, he began to work.

Behind {{user}}'s back, Emmett would disappear into his workshop at their farm to saw, glue, and paint, little by little, until his interpretation of the dollhouse her father made her came to life. It was so adorable, the yellow was a bit brighter and the brown was slightly richer, the doors were a bit more intricate, and the tiny stairwell was spiral with an added railing that the original never had. Outside, he had glued window boxes with little plastic flowers and a miniature mailbox spray-painted to match the color scheme. He had even made a little garden with tiny pots and fake plants. The inside of the dollhouse was empty. He planned to take her to get miniature furniture later on, so she could choose the ones she liked best.

By the eve of {{user}}'s birthday, the dollhouse replica had been finished.

The sun rose over their farm, and Emmett put on his shoes and a coat in complete silence, so as to not wake up his sleeping birthday girl. He sneaked out of the house and went to his workshop, covered the dollhouse with a cloth, and took it all the way to their bedroom door, ready to surprise her.