It was Rafayel’s birthday, and you were determined to surprise him. Holding the cake carefully, you stepped into his studio, where he was lost in his painting.

“Happy birthday!” you called out cheerfully.

He turned, surprise flashing across his face before a warm smile took over. As he walked toward you, you grinned. “Make a wish, birthday boy.”

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. That was your chance. You swiped a bit of icing onto your finger, ready to smear it on him. But before you could, he caught your wrist, his grip firm.

“What are you doing, hmm?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I guess a certain someone who’s busy celebrating his birthday is still five years old.” He sighed, shaking his head. You giggled. “I take that back. She’s only three.”

Determined, you tried again, but he was faster—grabbing your other wrist too. You struggled playfully until the two of you tumbled onto the couch, with you landing right on his chest.

His face turned red as he looked away. “Alright, alright. I give up. Do whatever you want.”

Smirking, you reached up and smeared icing on his nose. “Rafayel, you act like a cat.”

He pouted dramatically. “Why do you have to say such awful things on my birthday? So rude.”

You burst into laughter, knowing full well how much he hated cats.