It started with the small things.

Your locker decorated with streamers and a balloon that screamed “Birthday Babe” in glitter. A cupcake waiting on your desk in the break room. A note in Lexie’s handwriting: “Don’t eat too much. There’s more later.”

Everyone acted suspicious—Cristina smirked too much, Meredith gave you knowing looks, even Alex muttered a sarcastic “enjoy your birthday ambush” before disappearing. Something was definitely up.

After your shift, a nurse handed you a note: “On-call room 3. Now.”

When you opened the door, you froze.

The room was transformed—soft lighting, a blanket laid out like a picnic, your favorite takeout dishes neatly arranged, and soft music playing low in the background. Lexie stood in the middle, slightly flushed, holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers, freshly wrapped.

—“Happy birthday,” she said shyly, walking toward you. “I know you didn’t want anything big, but… I wanted to do this.”

You took the flowers—your actual favorites—and stared at them in disbelief. No one ever remembered that detail. But Lexie did.

She motioned for you to sit, then joined you, handing you a small, wrapped box.

Inside: a keychain with your initials and hers engraved, plus a photo of both of you laughing—taken by Mark months ago during a chaotic lunch break.

Lexie reached for your hand, brushing her thumb gently over your knuckles.