Chapter 175
Lena's POV
My breath caught. My gaze snapped across the room, finding Rowan.
He was still standing near the study doorway, watching me with that same unreadable expression. He didn't move closer, didn't try to claim any credit for this. He just said, quietly enough that I almost didn't hear it over the chatter, "Happy birthday, Lena."
I couldn't speak. My throat was too tight, my chest too full of something I didn't want to name. So I just looked at him, let my mouth curve into a small, genuine smile, and hoped he understood what I couldn't say.
Emily sidled up next to me, her voice low and smug. "Told you he's not as hopeless as you think."
I elbowed her lightly, but I couldn't stop smiling.
The rest of the evening unfolded in a blur of warmth and laughter I hadn't felt in years—maybe ever. We gathered around the dining table, plates piled high with food that actually tasted like something I'd choose for myself. Isabelle told stories about Rowan's childhood that made everyone laugh and made Rowan groan into his wine glass. Diana and Jack sat close together, their body language screaming something neither of them had admitted out loud yet. Rachel and Sophia argued good-naturedly about which book in the set they'd given me I'd like best. Alexander debated legal theory with Emily, both of them gesturing wildly with their forks.
And Rowan stayed on the periphery, never pushing himself into my space but always there, always watching, always present in a way that felt less like surveillance and more like... protection. Care. Something I didn't have a word for but felt in the way he refilled my water glass without being asked, the way he redirected conversations when someone brought up topics too close to Marcus or the trial, the way his gaze softened every time our eyes met across the table.
At some point, Isabelle insisted we sing. I protested—loudly—but she ignored me, and suddenly everyone was belting out the most off-key, enthusiastic rendition of "Happy Birthday" I'd ever heard. I covered my face with my hands, laughing so hard my sides hurt, and when I peeked through my fingers, Rowan was smiling at me like I was the only person in the room.
When the cake came out—the matcha mousse cake, not chocolate—I blew out the candles and made a wish I'd never admit to anyone.
The gifts came next. Rachel and Sophia had gotten me a collection of first-edition legal philosophy texts I'd mentioned wanting months ago and had no idea they'd remembered. Alexander gave me a vintage fountain pen engraved with my initials. Isabelle handed me a small velvet box containing a delicate gold bracelet that had belonged to her grandmother. Diana and Jack together gave me a donation receipt to a legal aid organization in my name.
Each gift felt personal, thoughtful, like they'd actually paid attention to who I was instead of who they thought I should be.
And then Rowan stepped forward.
He didn't hand me anything. He just said, "Your gift isn't here yet. It's... being finalized."
I raised an eyebrow. "Cryptic."
His mouth twitched. "You'll understand when you see it."
I wanted to press him, but something in his expression stopped me. It wasn't evasion—it was anticipation. Like he was waiting for the right moment to show me something he thought I'd actually want.
"Okay," I said quietly. "I'll wait."
The look he gave me then—soft and surprised and almost unbearably tender—made my heart stutter.
As the night wore on, people started trickling out. Alexander left first, citing an early meeting. Rachel and Sophia departed together, still bickering cheerfully about something I'd stopped following. Martha cleaned up the kitchen despite my protests, then left with a warm hug and a reminder to "enjoy the rest of your birthday, dear."
Isabelle kissed my cheek and whispered, "You look happy tonight, Lena. It suits you," before sweeping out with her usual elegance.
Jack wheeled Diana toward the door, but she grabbed my hand one last time. "Thank you for letting us celebrate you," she said. "You deserve more nights like this."
I squeezed her hand, my throat tight again. "Thank you for coming. For everything."
Jack nodded at me, his expression warm, then at Rowan, who'd appeared at my side. "Take care of her," Jack said simply.
Rowan's hand settled lightly on my lower back, so brief I might have imagined it. "Always."
And then they were gone, and it was just me, Emily, and Rowan in the suddenly quiet apartment.
Emily stretched, yawning dramatically. "Well, I should get going too. Early client tomorrow."
I narrowed my eyes at her. "You're abandoning me?"
She grinned, utterly shameless. "You'll be fine. You've got company." She winked at Rowan, who looked like he was trying very hard not to react, then grabbed her coat and headed for the door. "Happy birthday, Lena. You deserve this. All of it."
And then she was gone, and the door clicked shut behind her, and I was alone with Rowan in my living room still decorated with balloons and fairy lights and the remnants of the best birthday I'd ever had.
The silence stretched between us, not uncomfortable but charged with something I wasn't ready to name.
Rowan cleared his throat. "I can go too, if you want. But after I give you the gift."
I looked at him—really looked at him. At the way he stood with his hands in his pockets, trying to look casual but failing because his shoulders were tense. At the way his eyes searched mine, looking for permission or rejection or something in between. At the way he'd orchestrated this entire evening not to impress me or manipulate me but just to give me one night where I felt seen and valued and cared for.
"Stay," I heard myself say.
His eyes widened slightly. "Yeah?"
I nodded, my heart pounding. "Yeah. Just... stay."
The smile that spread across his face was slow and genuine and devastating. "Okay."