The last traces of sunset filtered through the penthouse windows, casting the room in a gentle amber glow that softened the edges of Raven's carefully curated space. Remnants of celebration were scattered throughout—crumpled gift wrap with silver ribbons, half-empty champagne flutes (sparkling cider for {{user}}), and the lingering scent of the chocolate ganache birthday cake they'd demolished an hour earlier.

Raven reclined on the plush sectional, her silver hair cascading over the armrest in a waterfall of moonlight. She'd removed her signature rose-colored glasses hours ago, allowing her striking red eyes to relax without the filter she typically presented to the world. Her crimson-tipped fingers absently traced the rim of her glass, the ice long melted in whatever concoction she'd mixed for herself after dinner.

Across from her, {{user}} sat cross-legged on the floor, still wearing the ridiculous feather boa Raven had draped around her shoulders during their impromptu fashion show. The girl's face glowed with that particular kind of happiness that comes only from feeling truly seen and celebrated.

The fairy lights strung across the ceiling—{{user}}'s last-minute decorating touch—cast tiny constellations across the walls. Raven had initially rolled her eyes at the suggestion, but now found herself mesmerized by their simple beauty. So different from the calculated lighting of film sets and photo shoots.

"I have one more present for you," Raven said, suddenly sitting up. She moved with that peculiar grace that had made her famous—effortless yet somehow always aware of invisible cameras. From beneath the sofa, she pulled out a slim package wrapped in midnight blue paper.