SHANAYA’S POV

I woke up before him.

The golden sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting a soft glow over his features. Kabir looked peaceful, his arm resting on my waist, his fingers tangled in the hem of my T-shirt. One of my legs was still sprawled over his thigh, our bodies comfortably twisted in the language we spoke only in sleep.

But I couldn’t focus on that.

Today was my birthday.

And he hadn’t said a word.

Not last night. Not this morning. Not even a whisper.

I tried not to let it sting.

You never even told him, Shanaya, my inner voice reasoned. You didn’t want to make it a thing. You didn’t want the attention. Remember?

And yet…

A tiny part of me still wished he’d remembered. That he’d sensed something. Maybe he had checked my documents. Maybe Kartik had told him.

But no. It was just a regular morning for him.

He stirred beside me, pulling me closer, still half asleep.

“Morning baby, ” he mumbled against my hair, his voice raspy and warm.

“Morning,” I whispered, forcing a smile.

He opened one eye, smirked, and ran his palm lazily along my bare thigh. “You always wake up looking like a chaotic angel. Cute, but dangerously messy.”

“Wow,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “And you wake up like a prince straight out of a cologne commercial. Smug, sleepy, and smug again.”

He chuckled. “That’s twice you called me smug.”

“You earned it twice,” I shot back.

He leaned in, pressed a soft kiss to my cheek, and whispered, “Let’s get ready. I’ll drop you today.”

Still no mention of the date. No playful ‘what day is it today?’ No teasing. Nothing.

I swallowed the dull ache in my throat, smiled again, and slid out of bed.

By the time we reached university, I was composed again. Dressed in my usual jeans and top, backpack slung over one shoulder, smile perfectly intact.

He leaned in from the driver’s seat, gave my hand a small squeeze, and said, “Have a good day, sunshine.”

“You too,” I replied, closing the door behind me.

And then he drove off.

He had no idea.

---

THIRD-PERSON POV

Kabir didn’t go to the office that day.

He didn’t check emails or take calls.

The second he dropped Shanaya off at the university, he turned his car around and drove straight to the venue.

He had planned everything to the last detail, but there was still work to do. Chairs to adjust, candles to light, fairy lights to be tested. The playlist was ready, the customized photo wall built, and her favorite flowers — white peonies and blush pink roses — lined the entrance like a dream.

Kabir adjusted the lighting himself. Re-checked the security. And then texted the boys.

Kabir: “Final call. Everything should be done by 7. I want her to walk in at 9. No delays.”

Veer sent a series of thumbs up. Kartik sent a gif of a man crying under party balloons. Rohit was already rehearsing a dance he hadn’t told anyone about.

He also messaged Isha privately.

Kabir: “Tell Shanaya you’re not feeling well. Cancel your plans with her. I’ll handle the rest.”

Isha: “Done. I’m in. Let’s make her cry happy tears.”

Back at the penthouse, Kabir opened the walk-in closet and laid out the outfit he had picked for her: a deep emerald satin dress with delicate pearl detailing — elegant, bold, just like her. Beside it, a small handwritten note sat folded neatly.

“It’s been too long since we went on a proper date, hasn’t it? Get dressed, baby. The driver will pick you up at 8. Love, K.”

Before leaving, he messaged her casually.

Kabir: “Something came up at work. Can’t pick you up. Driver will be there.”

Then he shut the lights off, looked at the setup one last time, and whispered to himself:

“She has no idea what’s coming.”

---

SHANAYA'S POV

The driver dropped me home a little after 6.

Still no text from Kabir — except the one he'd sent earlier.

I didn’t reply.

I was tired, emotionally drained, and honestly, a little disappointed. I hadn’t expected balloons or confetti. I hadn’t wanted a grand gesture. But something… anything… would’ve meant the world.

I stepped out of the car, clutching my bag a little tighter as I walked toward the penthouse. The lights inside were dim. Quiet. Calm. The kind of silence that feels too still.

When I opened the door, I didn’t find Kabir. No loud music. No welcome hug.

Just a flicker of candlelight.

At first, I thought maybe there’d been a power cut. But then I noticed — the soft trail of petals on the floor… leading me in.

Confused, I followed them.

And then I saw it.

A gown laid out on the bed — stunning, emerald with delicate shimmer. A matching pair of heels. Subtle, elegant jewelry. And a handwritten note propped up against the velvet box.

“It’s been too long since we went on a proper date. Get ready. The driver will pick you up at 8.”

I blinked. Once. Twice.

My heart stuttered in my chest.

This was just a coincidence. Isn't it? I thought to myself.

I picked up the note again, re-reading it, my fingers trembling slightly. A soft smile crept onto my lips. For the first time all day, I felt… seen.

Still confused, still hesitant — but touched in a way that made my chest ache.

I stepped into the gown. Slipped on the heels. Let my hair down in soft waves. The makeup Kabir had kept aside was minimal but magical — like he knew exactly what I’d wear, what I’d want.



At exactly 8:00 PM, the doorbell rang.

The same driver waited downstairs, holding the door open like we were in a movie.

And I — for the first time in a long time — felt like I was the heroine in one.

I had no idea where we were going.

I had no idea what waited for me.

But as the car pulled away from the curb, heart fluttering in my chest like it had wings of its own.

------

The car slowed to a halt in front of a place I didn’t recognize.

A secluded villa tucked away in the outskirts of the city — bathed in soft golden lights, vines of fairy lights clinging to its walls like stars had draped themselves over it.

I stepped out, hesitantly, heart thumping in my chest. The breeze was soft, cool against my skin, and carried a faint whisper of something sweet — jasmine maybe, or the scent of something far more familiar…

There were no banners. No signs.

Just a narrow pathway lit with candles and petals — leading me forward.

Every step I took felt like a dream I’d once had, one I didn’t allow myself to remember after Rohan left. One where I was celebrated, cherished, loved without restraint.

I followed the trail inside.

And the moment I stepped through the door…

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHANAYA!!!”

A collective cheer erupted — and I froze.

For a second, everything blurred. The twinkling lights. The soft instrumental music. The people. The laughter. The sparkle of confetti as it fell around me.

I blinked rapidly, and slowly faces came into view.

Isha, beaming and dressed like she knew this moment would be photographed a thousand times.

Kartik, goofy grin on his face, holding a giant teddy bear and looking like he might cry.

Rohit and Veer, arguing over who made the playlist.

Ranveer, popping a party popper right in my face, grinning unapologetically.

My college friends, wide-eyed and in awe of everything.

And—

Kabir.

Standing at the center of it all.

Dressed in a sharp black suit, no tie, sleeves rolled slightly. His eyes locked on me like there was no one else in the room. No sound. No air.

Only us.

He walked over, slow, steady — every inch of him radiating that calm chaos I’d fallen for.

When he reached me, he didn’t say anything at first.

He just… looked at me.

Like I was magic.

And then, in the softest voice that only I could hear —

“Happy birthday, my love. I hope tonight gives you everything you forgot to wish for.”

I didn’t realize I was crying until his thumb brushed my cheek.

Didn’t realize how tightly I was holding onto his wrist until he gently loosened it.

Didn’t realize how long I’d needed this until now.

He pulled me into a hug — one arm around my waist, one hand cupping the back of my head — and held me like he’d been waiting forever.

The music changed.

Soft violins. A spotlight dimmed.

And without another word, he took my hand and led me to the center.

We danced.

Slow. Quiet. Just us.

People around us melted into blurs again. My eyes were locked on his. He didn’t smile much. He didn’t have to.

His eyes did everything.

And in that moment, with the music, the warmth, the people I loved, the boy I never expected, and the birthday I never thought I deserved…

I felt whole.

----

The dance ended, but Kabir didn’t let go of my hand.

Instead, he guided me gently toward the corner where a tall, elegant table stood with a three-tier cake glowing under soft candlelight.

And that’s when everyone started chanting.

“Speech! Speech! Speech!”

I blinked, blushed, and opened my mouth—only for Kartik to yell,

“Please be dramatic. Give us tears, heartbreak, romance, filmy vibes!”

The room burst into laughter.

Even Kabir chuckled.

I took a breath. “I honestly… didn’t expect any of this. I wasn’t even sure anyone remembered today.”

Silence.

“I stopped celebrating my birthday a while ago. It hurt too much. Remembering made it worse. But tonight—”

I looked at Kabir,

“—someone reminded me that it’s okay to smile again. That I deserve to be loved… not in spite of my scars, but because of them.”

There was a collective “aww,” and someone wiped a tear.

Kartik sniffed. “Okay enough emotion. Let’s attack that cake now!”

And we did.

Or tried to.

Rohit smeared frosting on Ranveer’s nose.

Isha threw a piece at Veer, who ducked behind a vase.

Kabir? He simply waited, then when I wasn’t looking—smudged a bit of cream on my cheek.

I gasped.

He smirked.

“Game on, Singhania.”

I chased him around the room with a cake-loaded spoon while everyone laughed like we were in a romcom.

Eventually, I collapsed onto a couch, breathless and full of joy. Kabir sat beside me, handed me a drink, and pressed a soft kiss to my temple.

“One more surprise left,” he whispered.

I turned to him, confused.

He reached into his coat pocket… and pulled out a velvet box.

My breath hitched.

It wasn’t a ring.

But inside sat a delicate silver bracelet, with a single charm: a tiny book, its pages carved with the letter “S”.

“For your words,” he said.

“For the stories you’ll write. And the one we’re living.”

I didn’t say anything.

I couldn’t.

So I kissed him.

Soft. Deep. Thankful.

And when I pulled away, he smiled, “Happy birthday, my Shanaya. You’re my magic.”

------

END OF CHAPTER

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