The scene looks like something out of a commercial - one of those slow-motion, soft-focus ones meant to make people believe romance is effortless. A deep red blanket spread perfectly across the pale Monaco sand, little lanterns flickering around the edges, petals scattered like someone cared enough to place them by hand. Someone - me.

The basket sits open beside it, filled with everything she loves: strawberries dipped in chocolate, her favourite macarons from that little bakery, the pasta salad she always steals from my plate, and a chilled bottle of rosé waiting in an ice bucket. And then, the final touch - a bouquet of fresh flowers.

It should’ve been perfect. It was perfect.

Until her text pulled the plug out of all of it. Sorry, something came up. I can’t make it.

Now it’s just me, standing in the fading light, wondering if spending Valentine’s Day alone is pathetic or just unlucky. The waves roll up the shore in slow, rhythmic breaths, and the sky is shifting into the soft purple of early evening.

Then a sudden burst of movement cuts through the quiet.

A dog bolts across the beach straight toward me, tongue out, tail wagging like I’m his long-lost best friend.

“Pumba! Pumba, stop!” a voice calls behind him, already sounding resigned.

But Pumba is absolutely not stopping. If anything, he speeds up, skidding to a halt right at my feet, looking up at me like I’ve just become the best part of his day. And before I can help myself, I’m crouching down, running my fingers behind his ears. He leans all his weight into my hand, blissed out.

A moment later a girl reaches us - breathing hard, cheeks flushed from the chase. She’s holding Pumba’s leash like it betrayed her.

“I am so sorry,” she says, brushing hair out of her face. “I hope we’re not disturbing anything. He just..sometimes decides strangers are his new best friends.”

I shake my head. “You’re not disturbing anything. Promise.”

She follows my glance toward the setup, and her expression shifts - first surprise, then something softer. Something that looks a lot like longing. It hits me unexpectedly hard.

She stands there quietly for a moment, Pumba leaning against her leg, her eyes catching on the flowers. The wind lifts a piece of her hair, brushing it across her cheek.

“It looks..beautiful,” she says softly. “Really beautiful.”

I swallow, the sadness from earlier returning in a dull ache. “It was supposed to be a Valentine’s surprise. But my girlfriend decided not to show.”

Her gaze snaps to mine, sympathy blooming immediately. “I’m sorry. That must feel awful.”

“Yeah. More than I expected, honestly.” I exhale, watching the lantern flames tremble in the breeze. “I spent all day putting this together.”

She nods, gently running her hand down Pumba’s back. “It shows.”

For a moment, we just stand there - me, a guy with a failed Valentine’s plan, and her, someone who clearly understands what it feels like to wish for a moment like this.

Maybe that’s why the words slip out before I can second-guess them.

“Would you..like to share it with me?”

Her eyes widen, uncertainty flickering across her face. “Me? I mean - are you sure? This was meant for someone important.”

I shrug, offering a small, honest smile. “She didn’t want it. And it’d be a shame to let all this food, all this effort, go to waste alone.” A beat. “And you look like someone who appreciates a good picnic.”

She laughs quietly - just a breath, but enough to warm something in my chest. Pumba wags his tail like he’s casting a vote.

“I really don’t want to intrude,” she says again, though she’s already looking at the blanket like she wants to sit on it but doesn’t quite dare.

“You’re not intruding,” I say. “Honestly? I’d prefer company.”

Her fingers tighten gently on Pumba’s leash. Then she nods, slow but certain.

“Okay,” she says. “If you’re sure..I’d love to.”

I grin - actually grin - for the first time today. “Good. Come on, before Pumba claims the whole blanket.”