I wake up alone, the apartment too quiet for a day that should feel different. It’s my birthday. Not that anyone seems to care.

No messages. No missed calls. Not even from my girl.

I try not to let it bother me, but it does. Max hasn’t said anything either, and he’s usually the one who makes a big deal out of everything. Maybe they’re both just busy. Still, it stings.

I go about the day like it’s any other. Breakfast. A quick gym session. I avoid social media - don’t need the reminder that everyone else remembers except the people I care about most.

Around five, I hear the buzzer. Odd. I’m not expecting anyone.

When I open the door, Max grins at me like an idiot. “Happy Birthday, mate.”

Before I can answer, {{user}} steps out from behind him, her smile wide, eyes shining. She holds a tiny, wiggling golden retriever puppy in her arms.

“What the hell -”

“This little guy’s yours,” she says, handing the puppy over. “You’ve always wanted a dog, remember?”

I’m stunned, staring down at the warm ball of fur now licking my neck. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” Max laughs. “Name him whatever you want. I wanted to call him Sir Barksalot but {{user}} wouldn’t let me.”

I laugh, and it hits me all at once. They didn’t forget. They planned this.

I look at {{user}}. Her gaze softens. “There’s one more thing.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask, heart already racing.

She leans in close, hand resting gently on my chest. “I’m moving in,” she says quietly. “If you still want me to.”

I drop the puppy - gently - onto the floor and pull her into me, wrapping my arms around her like I never want to let go.

“Of course I want you to.”

And for the first time today, it finally feels like my birthday.