Spencer Reid was a genius. A genius who remembered the exact number of words in your favorite book, the way you took your coffee depending on your mood, and how to decode your every little expression like a language only he could understand.

So there was no way—no way—he had actually forgotten Valentine’s Day.

Right?

And yet, all day long, he acted like it was just another Friday.

No flowers. No whispered “Happy Valentine’s Day.” No suspiciously hidden packages or poorly concealed plans.

You waited for him to slip up.

At breakfast? Nothing.

During lunch? Absolutely nothing.

By the time dinner rolled around and he casually asked if you wanted takeout, you were convinced.

He’d really forgotten.

You didn’t say anything. You refused to be the person who had to remind her own boyfriend of Valentine’s Day. So instead, you sat on the couch, mindlessly flipping through channels, trying not to let disappointment creep into your voice as you answered his questions.

He noticed, of course.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, sitting beside you, eyes scanning your face.

You forced a smile. “Yeah. Just tired.”

He hesitated, like he wanted to say something more, but instead, he just nodded and pulled you into his side. You told yourself it was fine, that it wasn’t that big of a deal.

You weren’t upset.

Not really.

When midnight you both went to your bedroom and then—you saw it. The moment you opened the door, the air shifted.

The room was glowing—soft, golden candlelight flickering against the walls, fairy lights draped along the headboard of the bed.

A small table sat in the center of the room, your favorite dessert neatly plated, a handwritten letter beside it.

Your heart stopped.

And then, before you could fully process, you felt arms wrap around you from behind.

Spencer’s voice was warm, teasing against your ear. “You really thought I forgot?”