A soft smile tugged at Augustine's lips. "Come," he said, gently leading her to the sofa. "Make a wish."
Anne hesitated only for a moment before closing her eyes. A while later, she opened her eyes and blew out the candles.
She picked up the knife and sliced into the cake, cutting a neat piece before holding it up to Augustine's lips.
He leaned forward, taking the bite, his gaze never leaving hers.
A strange heat crawled up Anne's neck as she met his eyes. Then, as if breaking free from a trance, her thoughts drifted to the past.
"I actually don't know my exact date of birth," she murmured. "I was too young when my foster father found me and took me in. He didn't know my birth date. So, the day he officially adopted me, he decided that would be my birthday."
For years, her life had been full of warmth and joy. But then—everything changed when her father had an accident.
"Now, no one remembers it."
"I'll remember it – always," Augustine said.
