Drew had spent most of his birthday convincing himself it wasn’t a big deal. A couple of friends had texted. His mom had called that morning with her usual, cheerful voice. His siblings had sent a group selfie with silly hats and a homemade “Happy Birthday, Drew!” sign.

But now, sitting on his couch with the TV playing in the background—volume low, lights dim—he couldn’t ignore the small ache creeping in.

She wasn’t here.

{{user}} had apologized days before, explaining how work had pulled her into a last-minute commitment she couldn’t get out of. She’d promised to make it up to him. Drew, as always, had smiled and said, “Don’t worry about it.” And he meant it... mostly.

At exactly 9:48 PM, there was a knock at his door.

Confused, Drew pushed off the couch and headed over. When he opened it, his heart almost stalled.

There she was.

{{user}} stood in the hallway, wearing high-waisted jeans and a soft cream-colored sweater, her hair loose but perfectly in place, a subtle glow on her face like she hadn’t just gotten off a flight but had stepped straight out of a movie scene.

And in her hands… a small cake box, open at the top, with candles already lit—tiny flickering flames dancing in the dim hallway light.

“Surprise,” she said, smiling wide but a little breathless. “Happy Birthday, hon.”

For a second, Drew just stood there, completely frozen, before a crooked smile pulled at his lips. “You’re serious right now?”