You woke up to the smell of coffee before you even opened your eyes. It was faint at first — that warm, roasted scent mixed with something sweet — and then you heard it. A quiet crash. A muttered “shlt”. And then silence.

You smiled. There was only one person who could turn breakfast into an act of chaos and still make it endearing.

“You’re supposed to be asleep,” Damiano’s voice called from somewhere down the hall.

“You’re supposed to not burn the kitchen,” you called back, still half under the blanket.

A beat of silence — and then his laugh. “Rude. But fair.”

A few minutes later, he appeared at the doorway, messy-haired and proud of himself, holding a tray that looked like it had been through battle — pancakes (slightly uneven), a mug of coffee, and a single flower in a tiny glass.

He grinned. “Happy birthday, principessa.”

You sat up, still sleepy, still smiling. “You made this?”

He pretended to be offended. “You sound surprised.”

“Because I am.”

He laughed again, setting the tray down carefully. “Okay, fine. The coffee machine helped. But the rest is all me.”

You took a bite just to humor him, and his face lit up like you’d just announced he won an award.

“See? I’m not completely useless.”

“No, just mostly.” you teased, and he threw you a playful glare before leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“Keep talking, birthday girl. I still have more surprises.”

You raised a brow. “More?”

He nodded, smirking. “Oh, yeah. You think I’m showing all my cards this early?”

“You didn’t have to do anything—” you started, but he cut you off with a look that was softer than words.

“I wanted to,” he said simply. “You do so much for everyone all the time. Let me do this for you.”

Something about the way he said it made your chest tighten — warm and a little overwhelming all at once.

You smiled. “Okay. But I swear, if this involves another skydiving ‘surprise,’ I’m not—”

“No, nothing scary for you, baby,” he promised, grinning. “Just… trust me.”