It was officially your birthday.

And you were always the kind of person who treated that date like a national event. You loved celebrating your own birthday, but especially the birthdays of the people you loved. You planned, you remembered, you made it matter.

That’s why it hurt more.

Shane had simply… disappeared.

No text. No call. Nothing the entire day.

The truth? He had to cross the city to take care of something that couldn’t wait — pick up a package — and in the middle of the rush, the traffic, the million things running through his head… he forgot.

He forgot it was May 18th.

He forgot the most important day to you.

Months ago, when you casually mentioned the date, he had set a reminder on his phone. But Shane wasn’t exactly glued to his device. The notification only popped up when he was already on his way home.

May 18th.

His heart nearly stopped.

It was already night.

How had he managed to be such an idiot?

He turned the car around without even thinking. On the way to your house, he made two rushed stops. He bought the last bouquet of orange lilies the flower shop had — practically pulling them from the display before closing — and from a 24-hour store, he grabbed a box of your favorite chocolates.

It wasn’t enough. He knew that.

But it was all he could do at ten at night.

When he parked in front of your house, the clock read 11:30 p.m.

Technically… it was still your birthday.

He took a deep breath before getting out of the car. Your bedroom lights were still on. At least that.

Like a guilty teenager, he walked to your window and tossed small pebbles at the glass.

One. Two. Three.

The window opened.

You appeared, your face first confused — and then… closing off. Cold. Hurt.

That hit him straight in the chest.

“Guess the living always show up eventually, huh?” you muttered, crossing your arms.

He swallowed hard.

“I know I disappeared all day…” He rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortable. Vulnerable in a way that was rare for him. “I was an asshole. There’s no better excuse than that.”

You didn’t respond. You just looked at him.

And the silence hurt more than any yelling would have.

“I forgot,” he admitted, his voice lower. “I saw the notification too late. I should’ve remembered without an alert. I should’ve woken up thinking about it.”

He lifted the bouquet and the chocolate, almost awkwardly.

“It’s not much… but I stopped by the flower shop right before they closed. And I got your favorite chocolates.”

Another second of silence.

“Let me come in so I can wish you a proper happy birthday,” he asked, his voice softer than you were used to hearing. “Please, baby.”

And there he was, standing outside your window at ten at night, holding slightly crooked flowers and slightly crushed chocolate, looking less like the proud, unshakable Shane…

And more like a boy who just wanted to fix his mistake.

All he wanted was to hold you.

And make you smile again — even if it was the last minute of your birthday.