The good atmosphere embracing us in the garden slightly dimmed when Damian's car pulled up. I felt my shoulders tense involuntarily. My fingers slowly curled tighter around the wine glass I was holding. The fairy lights cast a soft glow over his face as he stepped out, and for a moment, he just stood there, taking in the scene before him—the decorated garden, the half-eaten cake, the lingering warmth of celebration.
Perhaps, taken aback of the festive scene.
Our eyes met across the distance. I’d say he looked surprised, maybe even a little lost, like he had stumbled to something he also didn’t expect to came upon. It was there and then I inwardly figured out what was that look for.
It wasn’t the celebration— it was the realization that it was my birthday— that he had forgotten. I clear
