Bang chan

The door clicked open, and Bang Chan shuffled in, shoulders heavy from the long day. He started to call out for you, but the lights flickered on, and his voice caught in his throat. Streamers hung from the ceiling, a cake sat glowing with candles on the table, and photos of your favorite memories together lined the walls. You stepped forward, beaming, and softly sang, “Happy Birthday, Channie.” For a moment, all he could do was blink, his lips parting as if he wasn’t sure this was real. “You… you did all this? For me?” he murmured, eyes glassy with surprise. Guiding him toward the table, you pointed out the photos one by one, reminding him of the laughter, the little milestones, the love woven into each moment. Chan listened in silence, his hand clutching yours tightly, as though grounding himself. Finally, he let out a shaky laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. But before you could argue, he pulled you against his chest, burying his face in your hair. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Best birthday ever… because it’s with you.” His lips pressed against your forehead, and for the first time that day, the weight on his shoulders seemed to lift.