The chandelier above us dripped with crystal tears, each one catching the candlelight and scattering it across the room like a thousand tiny stars. The restaurant, "Le Bijou Noir," was a symphony of hushed tones and impeccable service, precisely the kind of place Jenna's family favored for special occasions. Especially her birthday.

Tonight, the air hummed with a different kind of energy. Not just the usual murmur of sophisticated diners, but a palpable buzz that crackled around Jenna. Paparazzi, kept at bay by discreet security, occasionally flashed their bulbs outside. Inside, however, it was a more contained celebration. Her immediate family – parents, siblings, and me – surrounded her, our faces lit with genuine warmth.

Jenna looked stunning. The black dress she wore was a masterpiece of understated elegance, the fabric flowing like liquid night. It was, I couldn't help but notice, a perfect complement to my own black suit, tailored to perfection. Serendipity, or maybe a little telepathic communication on her part? I’d chosen the suit without conscious thought, but now, sitting beside her, our shoulders brushing lightly from time to time, it felt…right.

"This is all so much," she murmured, her voice barely audible above the soft string quartet playing in the corner. She glanced at me, a shy smile playing on her lips. "Thank you for being here."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," I replied, squeezing her hand gently.

The dinner progressed in a blur of exquisite courses. Caviar spoons the size of my thumbnail, perfectly seared scallops, and a beef Wellington that could have inspired sonnets. Between bites, her family showered her with affection and playful teasing. Her younger sister, Aliyah, recounted an embarrassing story from Jenna's childhood involving a rogue sprinkler and a glittery unicorn costume. Her parents spoke of their pride in her accomplishments, their voices thick with love.