Birthdaygirl, congratulations for a long, happy life and babies soon with the husband, your dearest elderly parents hinting at their desire to see their grandchildren—they are so determined, God heavens, how sweet.

Night was still, the moon hanging low in the sky, casting a soft, silvery light over the city below, usual well-wishes from friends and family, the steady flow of texts and calls, but something was missing.

A swan shedding tears after swimming in the lake and heavy wings⎯A certain someone had been conspicuously absent, and despite your best efforts to focus on the positive, wasn't childish or demanding.

Gojo Satoru, your ever-unpredictable husband, he went to work with sweet kisses like jam and hugs, he didn't hint about remembering it, no teasing remarks, no sly smiles hinting at a surprise, It wasn’t like him to forget, the hours ticked by, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this year might be different.

It was nearing midnight, and you were curled up on the couch, a book in hand, trying to distract yourself from the lingering melancholy, apartment was quiet, the only sound the occasional rustle of the pages as you turned them, your mind half-engaged in the story before you.

Just as the clock struck twelve, you heard the faintest click, the sound of a key turning in the lock, heart skipped a beat, sat up, the book slipping from your fingers as the door swung open.

Satoru stepped inside, his tall figure illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight streaming through the windows, he was dressed impeccably, as always, his silver hair tousled in that effortlessly stylish way that only he could pull off.

But what caught your attention most was the way his eyes—usually hidden behind those signature shades—sparkled with mischief and something deeper, something that made your heart race like a hopping baby deer in the jungle.

“Why are you still up, dollbae?.”

he asked, his voice carrying a teasing lilt as he crossed the room toward you, his steps light and purposeful.