Lyra woke up earlier than usual.
Today was special—and she wanted everything to go perfectly.
First things first, cleaning.
She swept the floors, wiped down every surface, and made sure nothing felt out of place. The apartment wasn't messy to begin with, but she wanted it to feel spotless, intentional—like someone had actually put thought into making it nice.
Next came the decorations.
Nothing over-the-top. Just enough to shift the atmosphere. She hung a few soft-colored streamers and tied a handful of small balloons in the corners. On the dining table, she spread out a new neutral-toned tablecloth and placed a small candle in the center—something warm, inviting. String lights went up along the window.
When she finally stepped back to admire her work, a slow breath escaped her lips.
This was it.
Now for the hard part—cooking.
Tying her long hair into a loose ponytail, Lyra slipped on her apron and stood at the kitchen counter.
"Okay, Lyra. Focus. No messing this up," she told herself, squaring her shoulders.
She started with the beef stew—it needed the most time to simmer.
She cut the beef into generous chunks, seasoned them with just enough salt and pepper, then seared them in a hot pan until each side turned a rich, golden brown. The moment the meat hit the heat, her apartment was filled with the comforting scent of sizzling fat and spices.
Next came the aromatics.
She chopped onions, garlic, and carrots, her eyes already tearing up as she sautéed them in the same pan.
"Ugh… why does it always have to be onions," she muttered, blinking fast to clear her vision.
Once everything was fragrant, she added the broth, tossed in the potatoes and herbs, and left the stew to simmer—low and slow.
"Alright. Let this baby cook."
While it bubbled gently on the stove, she moved on to the pasta.
She boiled the pappardelle in salted water until it was perfectly al dente, then sautéed some garlic in melted butter, adding a handful of fresh herbs to finish the sauce. As soon as the pasta was drained, she tossed it in the golden mixture, letting it soak up all that flavor.
Simple. Comforting. Satisfying.
Last, the dessert.
She went with the molten chocolate cake—classic, cozy, and easier than it looked. Dark chocolate melted with butter. Eggs, sugar, and flour whisked in. She poured the batter into small ramekins and slid them into the oven.
If all went well, the outsides would bake just enough… and the insides would stay soft and gooey.
By the time she was done, her apartment smelled like something out of a dream. Slow-cooked beef. Buttered herbs. Warm chocolate.
She stood in front of the table, taking it all in—the soft lighting, the carefully plated food, the tiny flicker of the candle in the center.
Everything she made came from scratch. From her hands. From her heart.
But more than anything, she hoped Robin would feel it. All the effort. All the little thoughts behind each choice.
All the quiet ways she was trying to say I care.
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Lyra had never imagined herself this busy in her entire life.
Normally, she was the type to surrender to post-class exhaustion with zero guilt—curl up under a blanket, ignore the world, call it self-care. But today was different. Today, she'd poured every ounce of energy she had into creating the perfect little celebration.
Now that everything was ready, she glanced at the clock.
Still a few hours before Robin's class ended. She could wait patiently...
But where was the fun in that?
A mischievous grin tugged at her lips as an idea sparked in her mind. Without wasting a second, she grabbed her phone and started typing.
The reply came fast.
Short. Panicked.
Lyra giggled to herself, imagining the look on Robin's face as he read it. After all the times he'd teased her, she figured it was about time she got her own sweet revenge.
With her trap set, she darted into her room to clean up. A quick shower, a change of clothes—nothing too fancy, but still cute. Just enough blush, a touch of gloss. Simple. Thoughtful. Her kind of pretty.
Moments later, there was a knock at the door—sharp, rushed, followed by a familiar voice filled with concern.
"Lyra? Hey, I'm here! Are you okay?"
She nearly burst out laughing. A pang of guilt hit her chest, but it was drowned out by anticipation. Everything had to be just right—the warm lighting, the flickering candles, the tidy table set for two, the tiny birthday cake with its lone candle, waiting.
Her heart skipped a beat.
'Okay... showtime.'
Taking a deep breath, Lyra opened the door.
Robin stood there, breathless, eyes wide with worry. His gaze swept over her like he was scanning for injuries.
"Are you alright? What hurts? What happened?" he asked quickly, voice tight with concern.
Lyra smiled softly and stepped aside, letting him in.
As soon as Robin crossed the threshold, he froze.
His eyes locked on the table—carefully arranged, softly lit, with homemade dishes steaming gently, and a small cake waiting in the center like a quiet spotlight.
His expression shifted. Wide-eyed. Speechless. "What is...?"
Lyra reached for his hand, fingers intertwining gently with his.
"Happy birthday," she said softly.
Robin blinked. Once at her. Then the room. Then back at her. It was like his brain hadn't caught up yet.
"You did all this... for me?" His voice was low, almost disbelieving.
She nodded, suddenly a little shy. "Of course. Did you really think I'd let my boyfriend's birthday slip by unnoticed?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he stepped forward and pulled her into a hug so tight it almost knocked the wind out of her.
Lyra's heart leapt to her throat. She could feel how fast his chest was rising.
"You scared the hell out of me," he murmured against her hair.
A small guilty laugh bubbled from her lips. "I know, I'm sorry. But if I'd told you I was planning a surprise, it wouldn't be a surprise."
Robin let out a long sigh, but there was a smile behind it. "You said you were sick. Dizzy. That you almost fainted."
"Okay, yeah," she admitted, wincing. "Maybe a little dramatic. But if I hadn't said that, you wouldn't have come right away, would you?"
Robin shook his head, still smiling. And then, without a word, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.
Lyra froze.
Her cheeks flushed, her eyes fluttering as his lips lingered just a second longer than expected.
"Thank you," he whispered. "This is the best birthday I've ever had."
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After a warm and quiet dinner, Robin leaned back in his chair, clearly full and content. His gaze drifted toward something sitting on the corner of the table—a black box wrapped in a simple ribbon.
Lyra followed his eyes and offered a small smile. "That's for you."
Robin raised an eyebrow, then reached for the box with careful hands. His fingers hesitated on the ribbon before tugging it loose, slowly opening the lid.
The moment he saw what was inside, his eyes widened.
A matte black tumbler, decorated with a few simple camera-themed stickers. It was understated, but so him. He lifted it instinctively, turning it in his hands, studying every little detail.
"This..." His voice caught in his throat.
Lyra smiled nervously. "You're always buried in assignments, so I thought you could use something to keep you company. And... I don't know, the moment I saw it, I thought of you."
Robin didn't speak. He just stared at the tumbler like it was something priceless. Slowly, a soft smile bloomed across his face, full of gratitude, and something quieter—something that went deeper than words.
He looked at her, eyes bright. "I really love it."
He chuckled as he read the card tucked inside. "From someone who's always on your side."
Lyra puffed her cheeks. "Don't make fun of me."
"I'm not." Robin smiled, eyes soft. "It's sweet."
Just as he was about to set the tumbler down, something else inside the box caught his attention. He reached in and pulled out a tiny keychain shaped like a camera. His brows furrowed.
"…Wait," he muttered, squinting at the little charm. He looked at it longer, like he was trying to place a memory.
Lyra noticed the shift in his expression. "What is it?"
Robin didn't answer right away. He was still deep in thought—piecing something together—until his eyes suddenly lit up.
"This… you made this, didn't you?"
Lyra froze. Then slowly nodded.
Robin held it closer. "So that Christmas gift… the snowflake keychain I got during the gift exchange. That was you too?"
"Huh?"
"It's the same," he said, eyes glinting. "Same style, same details. I remember thinking it felt too perfect to be random."
Lyra blinked. 'He really remembered that much detail?'
Robin laughed softly, shaking his head. "No wonder it felt so... intentional. You were thinking of me when you made it, weren't you?"
She looked away, flustered. "Maybe it was just a coincidence."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because it was supposed to be secret. That's the rule."
Robin looked at her for a moment, then—without warning—pulled her into a tight hug that made her stumble into him.
"I really love it," he said, close to her ear. "Thank you."
Lyra smiled softly against his chest. Mei had been right—something just between the two of them made all the difference.
After a few long seconds, she leaned back just enough to look up at him. "You haven't blown out your candle yet."
Robin chuckled and turned to the small birthday cake on the table. "Should I make a wish?"
Lyra folded her arms. "Of course. Birthday wishes are sacred."
Robin stared at the cake, then closed his eyes briefly before blowing out the candle in one smooth breath.
"What did you wish for?" Lyra asked.
He looked at her, a sly smile on his lips. "If I tell you, it won't come true."
She rolled her eyes, but her gaze lingered on him anyway, curiosity still flickering.
Robin picked up a small spoon and scooped a bit of the cake, holding it out to her. "Try this. You made it—you deserve the first bite."
Lyra blinked. "It's your birthday."
"But I want to share it."
He kept the spoon there, waiting.
She gave in, sighing playfully before taking the bite. The cake was warm, rich, and a little melty—and maybe it was just the moment, but it tasted perfect.
"Well?" Robin asked.
She chewed slowly, then nodded. "Not bad. Better than I expected."
"So I can have the rest?"
Lyra narrowed her eyes, then scooped another bite and ate it herself. "Hmm... maybe I'll just keep it."
Robin raised an eyebrow, eyes narrowing in playful challenge. "Oh? Is that how it is?"
Before she could react, he leaned forward in one swift motion, pulling her close until she nearly tumbled into his lap.
"Then I'll take it back myself," he murmured.
And before she could make sense of the words, his lips were on hers.
Their first kiss had been shy, hesitant, back in the car. But this... this was different.
No rush. No nervousness. Just warmth, and depth, and something unspoken that poured between them like gravity pulling two stars into the same orbit.
Lyra froze—then melted. Her eyes fluttered shut as she reached for him, clutching the fabric of his hoodie with trembling fingers.
Robin deepened the kiss, one hand wrapped around her waist, the other gently cradling her cheek. His thumb brushed over her skin like a whisper.
She felt herself burn from the inside out, not from the room's temperature, but from everything Robin was silently saying through the softness of his lips.
When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against hers. They were both still catching their breath.
"You know…" His voice was husky, like a secret. "I've been wanting to do that all night."
Lyra blinked slowly, her heartbeat still erratic. "You… you really can't help yourself, can you?"
Robin smiled, eyes warm. "Not when it comes to you."
She tried to respond, but nothing coherent came out. She looked down, cheeks burning.
Robin chuckled, brushing his thumb gently along her cheek. "Still shy?" he whispered.
She didn't answer, just bit her lip and looked away again.
He pulled her into another hug. "Come here."
He led her to the couch, where she curled up beside him. Her head rested on his chest as his arms wrapped around her protectively.
Lyra listened to the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. Safe. Steady. Home.
"You're warm," she whispered.
Robin smiled, his fingers lazily playing with strands of her hair. "Of course. I'm your personal heater," he teased. "So… what do you think? Did I pass the birthday surprise test?"
Lyra smiled into his chest. "I didn't expect you to react so... positively."
He chuckled. "Why? Because I always act too cool?"
A small nod was her only response.
He kissed the top of her head gently. The kind of kiss that didn't ask for anything in return—just quiet affection.
"Don't get me wrong," he said. "I might look calm, but when you did all this for me... I was really touched."
Lyra looked up at him. "I just wanted to make you happy."
Robin let out a soft breath and held her tighter. "You have no idea how happy I am right now."
Silence settled over them—not awkward, but peaceful. They sat there, tangled together, with nothing but the sound of their breathing and the soft hum of the night outside.
Snow continued to fall beyond the window.
"I could get used to this," Robin said, breaking the quiet.
"Used to what?"
He rested his chin atop her head. "You. In my arms. On a snowy night like this."
Lyra's heart fluttered again. She gripped the front of his shirt just a little tighter.
"You're right," she whispered. "I could get used to this too."
Robin smiled, then pressed a slow kiss to her temple. "Then don't go anywhere."
"I won't," she whispered back, barely audible.
Robin smiled, kissed her forehead again, and held her close.
That night felt like more than just a birthday—it felt like a promise. A quiet truth that neither of them had to say out loud:
They wanted to stay in each other's lives.
Tomorrow. The next day.
And for every day after that.
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The morning on campus felt fresher than usual after last night's snowfall. A man walked casually toward the faculty building, hands tucked in the pockets of his hoodie. A small smile played on his lips—something rare enough to catch the attention of anyone who knew him.
Naturally, Nelson was the first to notice.
Robin had just sat down when his best friend, already lounging at his desk with one headphone dangling around his neck, gave him a scrutinizing look.
"You look... way too happy this morning."
Robin glanced at him, unfazed. "Am I not usually happy?"
Nelson clicked his tongue. "Definitely not. You're usually Mr. Emotionless with the emotional range of a toaster. But today?" He pointed at Robin's face. "You've been smiling since you walked in. I can't even remember the last time you looked this genuinely cheerful before noon."
Robin merely chuckled, offering no immediate reply.
Nelson narrowed his eyes behind his glasses. "Wait. This has something to do with your birthday, doesn't it? Don't tell me... Lyra—"
Robin finally turned to him, that smug little smile still firmly in place. "Private birthday dinner. Homemade cake. Custom gift. A sweet surprise to end the night. What do you think?"
Nelson stared at him like he'd just heard the biggest plot twist of the decade. "Dear God. Don't tell me you actually—"
Robin raised a single eyebrow, expression unreadable.
Nelson clutched his chest dramatically, feigning a swoon. "The world's upside down. Robin, the cold and mysterious brooding guy, is now... hopelessly in love."
Robin laughed quietly. "Hey, I'm still the same guy."
"No, you're not. You're cheesy Robin now."
That nearly made Robin burst into laughter. If only Nelson knew just how much of a softie he'd turned into since the two had started dating a few weeks ago, the guy would've collapsed right on the spot.
Before Robin could retort, Nelson suddenly shifted tone—dropping the sarcasm for something more sincere. "Jokes aside... I'm really happy for you. Told you she was the right one."
Robin's smile softened, the smugness giving way to something gentler. "Yeah... I'm glad I didn't wait any longer to realize it."
He set his bag on the table and pulled out the matte black tumbler—Lyra's gift.
Nelson, just mid-sip of his coffee, narrowed his eyes. "You? Bringing a tumbler to class? That's new."
Robin casually spun it in his hand, glancing at it with obvious fondness. "Of course. This was custom-made. Just for me."
"So proud." Nelson rolled his eyes. "Don't forget to thank me."
Robin looked at him, confused. "Huh? Why would I thank you?"
Nelson shrugged nonchalantly. "Because I gave your girlfriend the idea."
"WHAT?" Robin's voice was just a little too loud. A few students nearby turned to look, but he didn't care. His eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at Nelson.
Nelson blinked, realizing he'd just outed himself. "Hehe... nothing! I mean—uh—it's not a big deal—"
Robin wasn't letting him off that easy. "Explain."
Nelson sighed dramatically, hands raised in surrender. "Alright, alright. She came to me, asked what kind of gift you might like. But I swear all I said was... maybe something from the heart would be best. That's it. I swear!"
There was a pause.
Then Robin chuckled quietly and slung an arm around his friend's shoulder. "So basically, you're the... Cupid behind all this?"
Nelson flinched. "Ugh, you're terrifying when you're in boyfriend mode."
Robin laughed again, patting Nelson's shoulder before glancing back down at the tumbler. "Still, I really do owe you. I love this thing."
Nelson gave him a sidelong glance, then dramatically pretended to wipe a tear. "Wow... Robin actually thanked me. With sincerity. This is historic."
Robin just shook his head—but the smile on his face didn't fade, not even a little.
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*** TO BE CONTINUE ***