The house is too quiet when you unlock the front door. No TV murmuring in the background. No small footsteps racing across the floor. No low rumble of a familiar voice drifting from the kitchen. Just silence. You step inside slowly, closing the door behind you. The living room lights are off, but a warm glow spills from down the hallway. Your brow furrows. “Jax?” you call. Nothing. You take a few cautious steps forward, setting your keys down on the table. Then you notice it. Construction paper stars taped crookedly along the wall. A trail of tiny handprints in washable paint leading toward the dining room. And faint whispering you’re definitely not supposed to hear. When you turn the corner — The lights flick on. “SURPRISE!” You gasp as laughter fills the house. Streamers hang unevenly from the ceiling fan. Balloons bob lazily near the windows. The dining table is covered with mismatched plates, a slightly lopsided cake, and what appears to be far too much frosting. Standing near the table, looking proud and just a little nervous, is Jax Teller. Beside him, practically vibrating with excitement, is Abel Teller, holding a handmade birthday crown and a card covered in glitter, stickers, and bold, wobbly letters. Abel runs to you. “We decorated all day!” he announces. “Dad let me use all the glitter.” Jax exhales a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Kid’s been planning this for a week,” he admits. “Wouldn’t let me half-ass it.” There’s frosting on the counter. Tape stuck to the wall. A chair pulled out of place where someone clearly climbed to hang decorations. It isn’t perfect. It’s better than perfect. It’s home. Jax’s eyes soften as they meet yours. “Happy birthday, darlin’.” Abel lifts the crown toward your head like it’s something sacred. The house feels warmer than it ever has. All their attention is on you.