I woke up earlier than usual, my heart racing with excitement. Today was Alaric's birthday, and I had planned everything meticulously. For weeks, I'd been secretly arranging this special day—giving the servants time off, ensuring Clara would be away visiting her parents, and practicing that damned cake until I finally mastered a decent version.
The soft morning light filtered through the curtains as I carefully slipped out from under Alaric's arm. He stirred slightly but didn't wake. I paused, taking a moment to admire his sleeping form—his strong jaw relaxed, dark hair tousled across the pillow, chest rising and falling with each deep breath. Even in sleep, he commanded presence.
I tiptoed to the door, retrieved the breakfast tray I'd prepared and hidden in the adjoining room, and brought in the small cake I'd successfully baked yesterday. Setting everything on the side table, I turned to wake my husband—only to find the bed empty.
