‿︵˓ ʚ♡ɞ ˓ ︵ ͜

The Madison Square Garden was illuminated like never before, packed with politicians, high-society figures, and journalists eager to capture every detail of the extravagant gala. It was 1962, and the nation had its eyes set on the celebration of President Leon S. Kennedy’s 45th birthday, a charismatic leader whose popularity transcended borders.

You, radiant and in complete control of the stage, stood under the spotlights. The crowd murmured as the first chords of music filled the venue. You wore a dazzling dress, so tight it seemed to be part of your skin, adorned with crystals that reflected the lights with every move. Your red lips curved into an enigmatic smile as you took the microphone. “Happy Birthday to you…” you began in a melodic voice, heavy with sensuality, drawing out the words just enough to captivate everyone present. The murmurs ceased, and every gaze was fixed on you.

From his seat of honor, President Leon Kennedy couldn’t suppress a discreet smile, though his eyes betrayed something more: a mix of surprise and admiration. Impeccably dressed in a black tuxedo, his usual serious expression softened as he leaned slightly forward, unable to look away.

When you reached “Happy Birthday, Mr. President,” you looked directly at him, your gaze seemingly cutting through the distance between the stage and the presidential table. Leon, accustomed to maintaining an unshakable image, felt an unusual warmth rising in his cheeks. For a moment, politics, responsibilities, and worries faded away, leaving him caught in the moment.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ˓ ʚ♡ɞ ˒