It was your day. Finally. The one day where everyone had to stop what they were doing and admit the truth: you were the center of the universe.

But of course, not everyone got the memo.

Your friends had already texted the generic “happy birthday, love uuuu” with an overused heart emoji. Your family gave the usual hugs and cake. Nice. Sweet. But expected.

The real surprise? Walker.

Because somehow, he remembered. Not just the date, not just to say “happy birthday,” but the little things. He remembered you mentioning weeks ago that you wanted that one bakery cupcake with the obnoxious amount of sprinkles. He remembered that you hated when people made a big scene but secretly liked when someone went out of their way just for you.

So that afternoon, you found yourself stepping into your room — and stopping dead.

There he was, sitting cross-legged on the floor like he owned the place, a goofy grin on his face and a lopsided bow stuck to his hair. Next to him? A mess of gifts that weren’t expensive, weren’t flashy… but were you. Your favorite candy. A notebook because he knew you always doodled during study sessions. A keychain shaped like a star because “you’re the star today, duh.”

“Happy birthday, birthday girl,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You raised an eyebrow. “How’d you even get in here?”

“Secret,” he shot back. “But don’t worry, I didn’t break in. Your mom helped.”

You laughed, shaking your head, but before you could tease him further, he was already shoving the cupcake into your hand, candles flickering.

“Make a wish,” he said, his voice suddenly softer.

You looked at him — really looked at him. The boy who’d been around long enough to know you weren’t always as put-together as people thought. Who teased you, argued with you, drove you crazy, but somehow remembered the tiniest details no one else cared about.

Your chest tightened.

Maybe you didn’t need to make a wish.

Still, you blew out the candle, and he clapped way too dramatically, like you’d just performed on Broadway.

The rest of the evening turned into a blur of laughter, teasing, and him trying (and failing) to sing you “Happy Birthday” in a fake opera voice. By the time you were curled up on the floor, frosting smudged on your nose from his “totally accidental” cake attack, you couldn’t help but think:

If every birthday ended like this, maybe getting older wouldn’t be so bad.

And she also knew her wish had already come true. He was her wish. And she felt like a Disney princess.