This year, your birthday felt heavier than usual. Something was off—you felt it deep down—and you didn’t want to celebrate. You told everyone not to do anything, that you just wanted the day to pass. Gabe listened quietly. He pulled you into a hug and said:

—“I get it. I won’t do anything. Promise.”

The hours passed. You kept yourself busy, avoided questions, wandered around town. Eventually, you headed home.

That’s when you noticed it—the soft glow spilling from the windows, the faint scent in the air, the door left slightly ajar. You stepped inside, and suddenly everything shifted.

Warm string lights covered the living room. Your favorite food was laid out on the table. Music played in the background. And there they were—your friends: Steph, Ryan, Charlotte, even Eleanor with her gentle smile. A small, perfect corner of comfort and love. And in the center of it all: Gabe, with that unmistakable grin.

—“I promised I wouldn’t do anything,” he said, walking up to you with a tiny cake and a single lit candle. “But I lied. I couldn’t let you go without this.”