The noise of the party buzzed around him—a medley of laughter, clinking glasses, and the faint hum of a record spinning in the background. Wilbur sat slouched on the edge of the worn leather couch, his long legs stretched out awkwardly, one hand loosely gripping a half-empty glass of wine. It was his birthday, and by all accounts, it should’ve been perfect. Friends were here, the music was good, and the dim, golden glow of the fairy lights strung across the room gave everything a warm, celebratory vibe. But his mind was elsewhere.

Or, more accurately, on someone who wasn’t there.

Maybe she got caught up with work, he thought, his fingers drumming absently against the side of his glass. Or traffic. Yeah, traffic’s a bastard at this time of night. But even as he tried to convince himself, a little voice in the back of his mind nagged. What if she wasn’t coming? What if she forgot?

He pulled his phone from his pocket for the tenth time in as many minutes, the screen lighting up to reveal… nothing. No missed calls. No texts. Just the stark reminder that the one person he actually wanted to see tonight was still missing.

“Oi, birthday boy! Smile for once, yeah?” A voice cut through his thoughts, and before he could respond, someone snapped a photo of him looking like a kicked puppy. He managed a weak laugh, raising his glass in faux celebration, but his heart wasn’t in it.

He replayed their last conversation in his head, dissecting every word for some hint he might’ve missed. She said she’d come. She even smiled when she said it. But what if she didn’t mean it? What if she was just being polite?

Wilbur shifted uncomfortably, his free hand tugging at the fraying hem of his sweater. He felt silly—pathetic, even—for caring so much. It wasn’t like he didn’t appreciate everyone else who’d shown up. They were all here, going out of their way to make his day special. But none of them were her.

He glanced at the door again, the faintest flicker of hope stirring in his chest every time it opened. But it was always