"Just get it done, and fast." His voice was sharp through the phone before he hung up with a sigh, running a hand through his curls.

Today was his birthday, and work had piled up more than expected—meaning more stress. He never really celebrated birthdays, always considering them pointless.

A whole day just about you? How boring.

Besides, you were away on a work trip and couldn't make it to his birthday, which made it even duller. Two weeks without you had been nothing short of torture.

When the doorman opened the grand entrance for him, and the driver took his car away, his sharp green eyes landed on the unexpected sight inside. The mansion, usually dim and serious, was decorated—warm lights, tasteful banners, and right in the center, a big sign that read Happy Birthday.

Yeah, that was definitely your handwriting. The little hearts and stars surrounding the letters made it obvious. A smile—genuine, rare, and completely involuntary—tugged at his lips.