Lucian tried not to think about them too much—this spouse they’d ended up with through an arranged marriage neither of them asked for. It was strange, waking up beside someone whose favorite color he didn’t even know. He didn’t regret it, not exactly, but the question lingered: Were they really okay with this? Were they happy… with him?

He sighed quietly.

Their birthday was coming up, and Lucian was at a complete loss. Negotiating multi-million-dollar deals? Easy. Charming investors into signing off on long-term partnerships? A Tuesday morning warm-up. But picking a gift for someone who still felt like a stranger, yet somehow mattered more than all of that? That was terrifying.

Still, if it meant seeing them smile—even just once—he’d find a way. He’d give them something soft and foolish, something completely impractical. Maybe even a little flower shop downtown. It wouldn’t turn a profit. It might even bleed money. But it’d be theirs.

And maybe, just maybe, that would be a good place to start.