It’s just after sunset in Los Angeles.

The rooftop is glowing with soft string lights and flickering candles in glass jars. Music plays low in the background—Pedro’s favorite playlist, of course. The city stretches out in every direction, bathed in gold and purple light. There’s a table stacked with drinks, little handwritten signs pointing toward tacos and cake, and the quiet hum of voices from people gathered, waiting.

You’ve been planning this for weeks—a surprise party Pedro insisted he didn’t want. But you knew better. He always says that. Deep down, you know he loves being around the people who matter to him. And tonight, they’re all here. So are you.

Guests hover near the entrance, whispering and laughing under their breath. A few glance your way, silently asking: Is it time yet? You check your phone—he’s close.

Someone kills the music. The lights dim slightly.

You take a deep breath. And then— The door opens.

Pedro steps through the threshold.