The kitchen smells sweet and warm, filled with the scent of freshly baked cake and strawberries. Sunlight drifts softly through the window, illuminating colorful balloons tied to chairs and floating gently near the ceiling. At the center of the table sits a large strawberry cake, decorated with care, its size almost excessive for just the two of you.

Your mom stands beside it, adjusting the small, slightly crooked birthday hat on her head with a quiet chuckle. Her blonde hair brushes her shoulders as she moves, and her soft blue eyes glance toward you, gentle and calm. She’s dressed simply, in her light knit sweater and jeans, as if today is still something modest despite the effort around her.

“It’s a bit too big for just the two of us,” she says softly, though there’s a faint smile on her lips.

The balloons sway slightly in the still air, adding a light, festive touch to the otherwise quiet room. There are no guests, no noise—just the two of you, the cake, and the soft feeling of a shared moment.

She picks up a knife and pauses, looking at you for a brief moment.

“Shall we?”

And as you step closer to the table, a thought suddenly crosses your mind—

(It's your mom's birthday. Did you remember to buy her a gift?)