"Ren?" Zayden waved his hand in front of the young man, growing a little impatient. It was a simple question. Why was he taking so long to answer?

Ren hesitated, his chest tightening. After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I... I never knew my birthday."

Zayden froze. For a heartbeat, he said nothing—just stared at him.

Ren fidgeted with his hands, avoiding his gaze.

"I... I lied," he laughed quietly. "About my parents. They died when I was... a child. I never knew them." He paused.

And I was raised in an orphanage? But Revhara didn’t have any of that. Should I just let him assume I grew up somehow?

Zayden didn’t know how to feel—whether to be mad because he’d been lied to again, or relieved because Ren was truly opening up, being honest with him. Still, he quietly listened without snapping.

Ren’s throat turned dry, and the words stuck in his mouth.

"M-My Lord, if you’re mad, I understand—"

Zayden’s hand shot out before he could stop himself, resting lightly on Ren’s shoulder. He didn’t scold or snap. He simply leaned in closer, his voice softer than usual.

"Mad?" He repeated, shaking his head slowly. "No... Why would I be mad?"

Ren’s eyes flickered up, a mixture of fear and disbelief.

"You... never had anyone to celebrate with you?" Zayden asked, his tone gentle, almost careful—as if speaking too harshly might shatter something fragile. The friendship they had just begun to forge. He corrected himself once he realized the order of his words was off. "No, I mean... You had no one to remember the day you were born?"

Ren swallowed hard.

"Well... There is a day Ilyan and I decided to celebrate my birthday. The day we first met." He lowered his gaze, sorrow reflecting in his eyes.

Zayden’s chest tightened, the realization of Ren’s past crashing over him like a rogue wave. His heartbeat quickened, a surge of possessiveness, his alpha instincts, flooding through him.

Ren had decided his birthday with Ilyan, shared those intimate moments, and allowed him to cross a line that Zayden could never have. A life, a bond—something he would never experience with Ren, no matter how much he longed for it.

Ren’s soft voice pulled him out of his spiralling thoughts.

"But..."

Zayden forced himself to meet his gaze, but it felt like a weight pressing down on his chest. His hands curled into tight fists, his nails sinking into his palm, trying to hold onto his composure.

Ren noted the shift in Zayden’s expression, his brow furrowing in confusion. Did he say something he shouldn’t have?

Zayden’s voice came out hoarse, edged with a bitterness he couldn’t quite hide.

"So... you had someone to celebrate with," his deep voice came out sharper than he intended.

Ren’s eyes widened, noticing the slight flicker of hurt flashing across the general’s face before he quickly masked it. He wasn’t sure what to say, how to calm the sudden tension. But then, the words left him almost without thinking.

"But if you want... You and Eiran can decide on a day too. One related to... us," Ren said, his voice softer, though the hesitation was unmistakable. He nervously glanced up at Zayden, his gaze meeting the taller man’s, searching for any sign of how he felt.

Zayden froze, every ounce of his frustration and jealousy slowly melting into something else—something which he couldn’t find words to name. His heart raced, and he took a step forward, needing to close the distance between them.

There was a chance.

A chance to have something, just him and Ren, even if it wasn’t the same as what he had with his late mate.

"You mean... You are offering me that?" Zayden’s voice was barely a whisper, his throat suddenly tight. "A day, for us, to celebrate your birthday?"

Ren nodded slowly, his hand unconsciously clutching onto the fabric of his sleeve, as if he were trying to steady himself.

"Yes. A day we can choose. You and Eiran... we can celebrate it together. Make it ours." He let the words linger in the air, unsure of how Zayden would respond.

Zayden’s heart skipped, and for a fleeting moment, he felt lighter, as though the weight he hadn’t realized he was carrying had lifted, just a little. Ren was giving him something—a chance to create a memory, however small, with him. It wasn’t much, but it was more than he expected just a few seconds ago. And it was more than he’d had before.

The general’s lips curved into a small, soft smile, his eyes softening.

"You... really mean it?" he asked, his voice more steady now.

Ren met his gaze, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Yes. I mean it."

Zayden didn’t know how to respond at first. The tension in his chest eased. He inhaled deeply before saying, "It must have been hard to say this to me. But... Thank you."

Ren’s breath hitched. The warmth in Zayden’s voice sent chills down his spine.

Usually, he wouldn’t trust such words. He would turn away, ignore them as if he’d never heard them. Yet, for the first time in a while, he wanted to believe him.

One more time.

Because... General Zayden was extraordinarily kind. To the point of foolishness. Or perhaps this man was only this way in front of him.

Zayden slowly loosened his grip around the silver-haired man’s shoulder, taking a step back.

"Well! As a demon," he said, though he didn’t particularly like calling himself one, "I have lived a long life!" Hoping to lighten the mood.

And maybe it worked. The grim expression on Ren’s face did brighten slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"I just wanted a gift from my new friend."

"But I still don’t know when your birthday is, My Lord."

Zayden looked away, unable to meet his eyes.

"W-Well, you know what? I will let it pass this year. But next year, you need to find out when my birthday is and prepare a gift."

Ren stifled a small chuckle.

Childish.

He thought, but nodded.

"No, pinky promise." Zayden extended his small finger, waiting for Ren’s. But the man seemed unsure, frozen in place.