Runze's POV
"Wake up, birthday boy."
Bael stirs on the sofa, blinking slowly as he pushes himself up against the cushions, his dark hair slightly rumpled. The faint golden glow of a single candle reflects in his eyes as he focuses on the small fruit cake held in my hands.
"Happy thirtieth birthday, Bael," I say softly, stepping close as he sits up.
A slow, genuine smile breaks across his face, his eyes locking onto mine with an unshielded, relaxed warmth that he only ever shows me.
"Make a wish," I whisper.
He leans forward, his eyes fixed on mine for a quiet second before blowing out the small golden flame. The moment the spark dies, Bael reaches up, catching my wrist gently to take the plate from my hands and set it on the table. Before I can move back, he pulls me down by the waist onto his lap.
His hand catches my chin and pulls my mouth down to his.
