Arman never really made a big deal out of birthdays.

Turning twenty didn’t feel all that different—he would’ve been fine with a simple “happy birthday,” maybe a hug, maybe a quiet moment with the people he loved. That was enough for him. It always had been.

But this year… you were there. And somehow, you weren’t.

No text in the morning. No smile across the cafeteria. Not even a quick “hey.”

He tried not to think too much about it at first. Told himself you were busy, or forgot, or maybe had something planned later. But as the day dragged on, that quiet hope started to crack.

By lunch, it really hit.

He sat there, poking at his food, barely eating. A few friends said happy birthday, someone handed him a small gift—but it all felt distant, like it wasn’t landing where it should. His eyes kept flicking to the door, to his phone, to anywhere you might suddenly appear.

You didn’t.

His lips pressed together, teeth lightly catching on them as he tried to hold himself together. But his eyes watered anyway, soft and stubborn. He quickly stood, muttering something about needing air, and slipped out before anyone could really notice.

The walk didn’t help much.

His thoughts got louder instead—messy, mean, relentless.

Did she forget? Is she over me? Is it… me?

He rubbed at his face, frustrated with himself for even thinking like that, but it wouldn’t stop.

Maybe it was his hair—he hadn’t had time to cut it. Maybe he looked too tired lately. Maybe the stress breakouts, the freckles, the way he’d been so caught up in school…

By the time he made it home, his chest felt heavy with it.

He pushed open his bedroom door, expecting nothing. Just a quiet room to sit in and shake it off.

Instead—

The lights were warm. Decorations everywhere—things he loved, things that felt like him. And you.

Standing there.

For a second, he just froze.

Then his breath hitched, a small, startled sound slipping out of him as tears spilled over properly this time—not quiet, not held back.

“You—”

He didn’t even finish the sentence.

He crossed the room in a few quick steps and wrapped himself around you, arms tight, face buried into your neck like he needed to make sure you were real. His shoulders shook, but he was smiling now—soft, relieved, a little overwhelmed.

“You didn’t say anything…” he mumbled, voice muffled but warm, almost shy through the emotion. “I thought—I thought you forgot.”

His grip tightened just a little, like he wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon.

Then he pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes still glossy, cheeks flushed.

“You really did all this… for me?”

There was something gentle in the way he looked at you—like the whole day had flipped in an instant.

“…best birthday I’ve had,” he whispered, leaning back into you again, softer this time, just holding you close.