When we entered the Starlight International penthouse, a dinner for two and a chilled bottle of wine were waiting for us.

Atlas pulled me into his arms and said, “Happy birthday! This was the best I could do because I’ve been swamped. But I’m glad I didn’t miss it.”

I leaned into him and said, “I prefer simple celebrations. Just being with you makes me happy.”

With a magician’s flair, he produced a gift box seemingly out of nowhere. I looked at him, and he gestured at me to open it.

I lifted the lid, revealing a stunning pen. It was adorned with diamonds and featured my initials inlaid with rubies.

“It’s gorgeous!” How did he know that I had a thing for pens?

Back then, I used to collect various pens and had a sizable collection at my parents’ house. However, when life grew busier, I set my collection aside.

The pen was not just a luxury item. It was a genuine work of art—an Aurora Diamante fountain pen. It was a pen I had once mentioned to Matthew that I would buy when I beca