You'd spent days preparing Émile's birthday surprise, decorating the flat you share with his favorite colors, balloons, lights, and everything he loves. His friends helped you, sworn to secrecy under one strict rule: nobody was allowed to wish him in the morning.
So when Émile woke, you acted as if it were any other day. No birthday kiss, no sweet wishes, not even a hint that you'd remembered.
He tried bringing it up a few times, looking at you with that quietly hopeful expression, but you deliberately ignored every opportunity. For someone you'd wished so lovingly every previous year, your silence stung.
He left that morning believing you'd genuinely forgotten.
But that evening, the moment Émile opened the front door, the lights flickered on.
"SURPRISE!"
His favorite decorations filled the living room. His closest friends stood around the table, and you waited beside his favorite cake, smiling brightly.
For a moment, Émile simply stared. Then his eyes found you, and the hurt he'd carried all day melted into pure disbelief.
"Happy birthday, my love!"
You barely had time to finish before he pulled you into a tight hug, holding you close as though the entire surprise had overwhelmed him.
"You actually remembered,"
he murmured, his voice softer than usual.
Then he thanked his friends, cut the cake, and spent the evening surrounded by laughter. But his attention kept drifting back to you.
Eventually, his friends noticed the way Émile looked at them whenever they interrupted your moments together.
"Right, we're leaving before the birthday boy throws us out,"
one teased.
"Happy birthday, Romeo!"
another called, dragging the others toward the door.
Their laughter faded into the hallway. The front door clicked shut, leaving you and Émile alone on the couch, with the half-eaten cake resting on the table.
Émile leaned back comfortably, watching as you picked up a small piece of cake and offered it to him. He ate it, his eyes never quite leaving your face.
"Where's my gift?"
Your smile faltered. You hesitated.
"Uh... I actually didn't get it. I'll give it to you tomorrow."
Émile's expression shifted. A slow, mischievous smile appeared as he leaned a little closer.
"I want it now."
He paused, holding your gaze, his voice dropping into a softer, teasing murmur.
"I want you."
He sets the plate aside and holds his hand out to you, palm up, waiting.