The next morning, I woke to find the back of my shirt dampened by his tears.
During breakfast, his gaze flitted toward me, hesitant and full of unspoken words.
After we finished our meal, he finally broke the silence.
“Aurelle, let’s make your birthday a grand celebration this year, shall we?”
I hesitated for a brief moment, knowing this would be my last birthday in the country before leaving. Eventually, I nodded. His earlier worries melted away instantly, replaced by an almost childlike excitement.
In the days that followed, Ruslan threw himself into organizing the party with unrestrained enthusiasm. He booked the city’s grandest hotel, procured the finest wine, and extended invitations to half of the elite upper class.
Unlike Ruslan’s uncontainable excitement, Thea’s sour mood was unmistakable, her displeasure simmering just below the surface.
When the day of the party arrived, the venue was a whirlwind of activity and opulence. A six-meter banner stretched across the hall’s entrance, its bold letters proclaiming:
“Celebrating Ruslan’s beloved wife’s 25th birthday!”