I can’t stop smiling as we pull up to the villa.

It’s just outside of Nice - secluded, modern, glass walls and a view over the coast. I’d booked it months ago, pretending it was just a surprise wellness weekend for her birthday. {{user}} loves quiet places. I told her there’d be massages and fresh fruit and a hot tub with ocean views.

Which..technically isn’t a lie. It’s just not the whole truth.

She has no idea what’s waiting inside.

Max, Pietra, her friend Mia, many more of our friends, even my mum flew in. And Martin Garrix - legend that he is - said yes without hesitation. He’s setting up right now in the living room, cables and strobes and lights everywhere. I gave strict instructions: the second {{user}} opens the door, music starts, confetti cannons go off and everyone yells “Happy Birthday.”

It’s going to be perfect.

I glance sideways as I park. {{user}} looks relaxed, a soft smile playing on her lips. She’s wearing one of those flowy linen jumpsuits she loves, bare shoulders, skin glowing in the late afternoon sun. God, I love her. We haven’t been together that long, but everything just clicks. She makes me feel calm in a way nothing else ever has.

Except for one thing.

She never comes out with me. No parties. No team events. No premieres, birthdays, nothing. At first, I figured she was just shy. But it’s been months, and it’s still the same excuse every time.

“Too tired.” “Maybe next time.” “I don’t feel like being around people.”

I’ve never pushed. Not really. But I won’t lie - it bothers me. Makes me feel like maybe there’s a part of her I don’t know. Like there’s a wall I haven’t even found the door to yet.

So this party - this surprise - it’s not just a birthday thing. It’s also me saying: come see what it’s like. It doesn’t have to be scary. These are people who love you. Who want to celebrate you.

We walk to the front door. I unlock it and gesture for her to go in first, practically vibrating with anticipation.

She laughs softly. “You’re acting weird.”

“I’m always weird.” I grin.

She pushes the door open.

BOOM Confetti explodes through the air. Lights flash. Martin drops the beat. Everyone jumps out from their hiding places, cheering - “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, {{user}}!”

The bass hits. Strobes flicker across the walls. {{user}} takes one step inside.

And freezes.

Completely.

Her entire body goes rigid, like someone just yanked the life out of her. Her hands twitch once. Her jaw tightens. And then -

She collapses.

“{{user}}!” I’m at her side before I even realize I moved. Her body is convulsing on the floor, limbs jerking uncontrollably, eyes rolled back. My stomach drops through the floor. I can’t breathe.

“Turn it off! TURN IT OFF!” I shout, and suddenly the music cuts, lights die and everyone’s silent except for the sound of {{user}}’s body on the wooden floor.

I drop to my knees, trying to hold her head gently, not knowing what the hell I’m doing. “Baby, hey - hey, I’m here, I’ve got you -”

Mia pushes through the crowd, pale as a ghost. “She has a seizure,” she says breathlessly. “Lando, does she have epilepsy?”

I shake my head. “No - no, I don’t know - I - what do I do?”

“She needs space. Don’t hold her down. Just make sure she doesn’t hit anything.”

So I move the coffee table away. I sit beside her, hands shaking, trying to keep calm, trying not to cry as I watch the woman I love suffer and realize -

This is why.

This is why she avoids loud music. Why she hates strobes. Why she stays home when the world gets too much. Not because she doesn’t want to be with me. But because she’s scared of exactly this.

And I never saw it.

I never asked.

Fuck.

I feel like the worst boyfriend in the world.

And all I can do now is sit here, holding her hand as the seizure fades, whispering apologies she may not even hear.