Gracie had no idea. She thought the day would be just another tour morning—waking up in a quiet hotel room, grabbing coffee, and heading to soundcheck. But {{user}} had been planning this for weeks, even coordinating with Gracie’s mom, who had happily agreed to be her partner-in-crime.

When {{user}} finally slipped into the hotel room, the early morning light was streaming through the curtains. She moved quietly, careful not to make a sound. The bed was neatly made—Gracie had clearly already gone down for breakfast—but that only gave her more time.

She unpacked her bag: pastel balloons that she slowly inflated and let float around the room, each one catching the light like a soft little planet; wrapped gifts with delicate ribbons in shades of pink and cream; and the centerpiece—a small, two-tier cake she had baked herself, decorated with tiny sugar flowers and a message written in careful, swirling icing: Happy Birthday, love.

By the time everything was in place, the room looked like it had been touched by something magical—warm, cozy, and full of quiet joy.

She heard the click of the door. Gracie stepped inside, pulling off her hoodie, and froze. Her eyes widened, taking in the scene. “Oh my god…” she breathed, a smile breaking instantly across her face.