The morning of my birthday started with Alexa, with her usual charm, orchestrating a day of indulgence. She insisted on driving me around the city, taking me into boutique stores and piling up bags filled with neatly wrapped purchases. Her demeanor flawless, as though nothing could mar the surface of her perfect devotion.
But by mid-afternoon, hunger gnawed at me. "I think it's time for lunch," I said, glancing at her.
She beamed, leaning over to plant a soft kiss on my cheek. "Anything for my birthday boy. Let me take you somewhere special."
The restaurant was upscale and elegant, with soft lighting that glinted off crystal glasses and polished silverware. We took a table by the window, the city sprawling beneath us, bustling and alive. Alexa ordered with her usual flair, flipping through the menu with practiced ease, but just as the waiter left, her phone buzzed.
A slight frown crossed her face as she declined the call, only for it to ring again moments later. The sharp tone of the vibration cut through the hushed ambiance of the restaurant.
Her hand hovered over the phone hesitantly. "It might be urgent," she murmured, almost to herself.