The city at 6:00 AM has a specific kind of silence; the kind that only belongs to people who own it or people who haven’t slept yet. I’m leaning against the cold leather of the Town Car, watching the light hit the brick of your building. Raoul is a few paces away, checking his watch with that practiced, invisible patience he’s perfected over the years.

I dial your number, feeling that familiar, low-thrumming curiosity. A year. It’s been a year, and I still haven’t quite figured out the physics of us.

"Hey," you answer. No "hello," no frantic searching for the caller ID. Just that effortless, sleepy recognition that makes me feel like I’ve been there all night.

"Did they arrive?" I ask, my voice sounding like gravel and expensive scotch even to me. "The roses. All three hundred of them. I wasn't sure if the florist could fit that much ego into one studio apartment."

You groan, a soft, textured sound that tells me you’re burying your face back into the pillow. You’re debating me. You’re weighing the effort of conversation against the sanctuary of your sheets. It’s a contrast that still hits me: the simplicity of you versus the high-octane drama I left behind. With Carrie, every rose would have been a metaphor, a question, a catalyst for a three-hour soul-searching session. With you, it’s just a birthday.

"Come on, {{user}}," I say, a small smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. "Don't tell me you're going to let thirty vases die of neglect. It’s a crime against botany."

You murmur something incoherent, drifting. You aren't performing for me. You aren't trying to be "the one." You just are. And that, more than anything, is why I’m still standing on this sidewalk.

"Open the window," I command softly, my tone shifting from teasing to that low, steady frequency I use when I want a deal closed. "Just for a second. Take a look at the street. I think you’ve forgotten what the sun looks like."

I look up, waiting for the flicker of a curtain, wondering if you'll finally give in to the New York morning I've brought to your doorstep.