The room erupted in laughter as everyone cheered for you to blow out the candles. But as soon as you did, a few people pushed your face toward the cake—except your face hit the table instead.

There was a brief moment of silence before someone shouted, “Her nose!”

You pulled away, blood already trickling down your face. I rushed to you, grabbing napkins. “It’s not too bad,” I said, gently pressing them against your nose. You chuckled, even with blood on your face.

“Talk about a birthday disaster,” you said, and I couldn’t help but smile.

I helped you clean up, still chuckling. “You’re handling it way better than anyone else would.”

You grinned, looking up at me. “Hey, at least it’s a birthday I’ll never forget.”

“Definitely not,” I said, relieved it wasn’t worse—and somehow even more in love with you.