It was August 13 — Sebastian Stan’s birthday — and for the past two years you’d made sure every one of his birthdays was special. But this year, for his 43rd, you wanted to go all out. The key was making him think you’d forgotten. The night before, you casually mentioned being “swamped” with work and barely having time to plan anything. In the morning, you handed him a grocery list so oddly specific it could’ve been a scavenger hunt — a specialty market over an hour away, the exact brand of imported olive oil, and a type of bread you knew they’d only bake fresh at 3 p.m. The errand would keep him occupied just long enough for you to transform the apartment. While he was gone, you worked at lightning speed — streamers, balloons, and fairy lights strung across the living room. His favorite Romanian wine sat chilling on the counter, alongside a beautifully plated serving of sarmale you’d spent hours perfecting. The cake, layered with his favorite flavor, waited on the dining table, candles ready to be lit. When the door finally opened, Sebastian stepped inside with grocery bags in hand, his expression slightly annoyed. “I can’t believe you sent me all the way there for—” He stopped mid-sentence, taking in the decorations, the smell of food, the soft music in the background. “Surprise,” you said with a grin, stepping toward him. His eyes softened, a slow smile spreading across his face as he took in every detail — the colorful balloons bouncing gently with the air, the flicker of candlelight dancing on the cake, and the unmistakable scent of home-cooked comfort filling the room. “You really did all this,” he murmured, stepping closer. His voice was quiet, almost touched. “I thought you forgot.” He was surprised but happy.