The car radio hums a soft melody as I grip the gift bag on my lap, my heart fluttering like a bird trapped in a cage. Tonight is Liam’s birthday party—his 28th—and I’ve spent weeks planning the perfect gift: a custom vinyl record of the songs we’ve loved together, from the one that played on our first date to the lullaby he hums when I can’t sleep. The wrap paper is his favorite shade of navy, tied with a silver ribbon that glints in the car’s interior light. I smooth it down for the tenth time, nervous and excited all at once. This isn’t just any party; it’s a chance to show him how much he means to me—to wrap all the little, quiet loves we share into one night of laughter and light.
When we pull up to his friend’s house, the windows glow with warm light, and I can hear laughter and music spilling out into the cool autumn air. Liam takes my hand, his palm warm and steady, and squeezes it. “You okay?” he asks, his eyes soft. I nod, grinning. “Just ready to celebrate you.” He leans over, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek, and I feel my cheeks heat up—even after two years, he still makes my heart race with the smallest gestures.
Inside, the room is decorated with fairy lights and balloons, and a table in the corner is piled high with cake and snacks. Liam’s friends cheer when we walk in, and he’s immediately pulled into a hug by his best friend, Jake. I hang back for a minute, watching him—his smile bright, his eyes crinkling at the corners, the way he laughs so hard he throws his head back. This is the Liam I fell in love with: the one who makes everyone around him feel seen, the one who remembers his mom’s favorite tea and his friend’s dog’s birthday, the one who makes even a crowded room feel like home.
After a while, he breaks away from the group and finds me, a glass of lemonade in his hand. “There you are,” he says, handing it to me. “I was starting to think Jake was gonna keep me all night.” I laugh, taking a sip, and hold out the gift bag. “Happy birthday,” I say, my voice softer than I mean it to be. His eyes light up as he takes it, and he sits down on the couch, pulling me next to him. He tears the paper slowly, like he’s savoring the moment, and when he sees the vinyl, his breath catches. “You made this?” he asks, running his finger over the cover— a photo of us at the beach, our feet buried in sand, grinning at the camera. I nod, biting my lip. “Every song has a memory,” I say. “I wanted you to have something to hold onto… something that reminds you how much I love you.”
He doesn’t say anything at first. He just looks at the record, then at me, and pulls me into a tight hug. “This is perfect,” he whispers, his voice thick. “More perfect than I could ever explain.” I rest my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, and for a minute, the noise of the party fades away. It’s just us—his arms around me, the warmth of his body against mine, the quiet promise of forever hanging in the air.
Later, when it’s time to blow out the candles, everyone gathers around the cake— a chocolate one, his favorite, with “Happy Birthday, Liam!” written in white icing. He closes his eyes, and I watch him, my heart full. I don’t know what he’s wishing for, but I hope it’s something he already has—love, happiness, me. When he blows out the candles, the room erupts in cheers, and he leans down, kissing me in front of everyone. It’s not a quick, shy kiss; it’s slow and sweet, like he’s trying to tell me everything he can’t put into words.
As the party winds down, we help clean up, stacking plates and folding napkins. Liam’s friend Mia grins at us, winking. “You two are disgusting,” she says, but her voice is warm. “In the best way.” Liam laughs, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Yeah, well,” he says, looking at me, “she’s my person.” I feel my eyes water, and I squeeze his hand. He’s mine too—my person, my favorite adventure, my forever.
On the drive home, the vinyl plays softly in the car, and Liam holds my hand the whole time. When we get to our apartment, he sets the record on the turntable, and the first song starts— the one from our first date. He pulls me close, and we dance in the living room, the only light coming from the moon outside. “Thank you,” he says, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “For tonight. For the record. For everything.” I smile, resting my head on his shoulder. “Thank you for being you,” I say. “For loving me, for making every day feel like a celebration.”
As the song ends, he pulls me closer, and I know. This birthday party wasn’t just about celebrating him—it was about celebrating us. The late nights, the inside jokes, the quiet mornings, the big dreams. It was about showing him that he’s loved, not just today, but every day. And as we stand there, dancing in the moonlight, I promise myself that I’ll keep celebrating him—keep loving him—for the rest of my life. Because with Liam, every day is a gift. Every moment is magic. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
