Everything was perfect. The fairy lights shimmered across the ceilings of Tannyhill, bouncing off the champagne glasses and dancing along the polished floor like little stars. It was my night. Finally nineteen. I had dreamed of this birthday for months — the outfit, the heels, the crowd, the energy.

My dress hugged me in all the right ways, my hair fell just how I liked it, and the music vibrated through my chest. The house was filled to the brim, friends arriving with more friends, laughter echoing through every hallway. But none of it filled the quiet space inside me.

Because Rafe wasn’t here.

He had called the night before — his voice low, serious — saying he had to fly out to the Bahamas. “Business,” he said. Probably that gold mess again. I knew it wasn’t his fault, and God, he tried. The promise ring already on my finger sparkled every time I moved, and the gifts he left behind were thoughtful, expensive, and full of love.

But it didn’t stop the sting.

I’d planned the biggest party of the year. Alcohol? Bought. Decor? Set. Music? Blasting. And still, it felt like something was missing. He was missing.

Topper and Kelce did their best to distract me, and I won’t lie — they kind of managed. I let them hand me drink after drink until I was tipsy enough to smile, my mood floating somewhere above the hurt.

By the time midnight hit, the crowd screamed for me — “Happy Birthday!” — and I felt a tiny warmth bloom in my chest again. Topper placed a silly crown on my head while Kelce bowed like I was royalty.

“You guys are stupid,” I laughed, cheeks flushed, swaying to the beat.

Topper slung his arm around my shoulder and winked. “We have one more surprise.”

I turned slowly, eyebrows raised, confused. “What do you mean? I didn’t—”

And then I saw him.

Rafe.

Standing in the middle of the room like he’d never left. His blonde hair slightly messy from the flight, wearing that perfectly fitted button-down I love, and holding the biggest bouquet of white roses I’d ever seen. His ocean eyes found mine and softened instantly — the way they only ever do for me.

My breath caught. My lip trembled. I didn’t even try to hide the tears as they rolled down my cheeks.

He dropped the flowers on the table and crossed the room in three long strides, wrapping me in his arms. My face pressed against his chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat matching my own.

He leaned down, voice quiet, but full of everything I needed to hear. “Happy birthday, baby.”

I clutched his shirt tighter and sobbed into his neck — not out of sadness, but overwhelming relief. He came home.

That was the only gift I ever really wanted.