Chapter 80 Operation Secret Party
Hannah:
By the time Sienna and I leave the restaurant, the afternoon has softened into that golden pre-evening glow that makes everything look slightly cinematic.
I feel lighter than I did this morning.
Not because Sienna called me out.
Okay, maybe a little because she did.
But mostly because things with Timothy have been… good. Easy.
Still complicated.
But good.
When I pull into the estate driveway and park, I spot Rowan just ahead of me, keys in hand, about to slide into his car.
“Rowan!” I call.
He turns, grins immediately. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite almost-daughter-in-law.”
“Don’t start,” I warn, walking toward him.
He pulls me into a quick hug anyway. “How’s life in paradise?”
“Chaotic. As usual.”
He leans back, studying me with an exaggerated squint. “So.”
“So?” I echo.
“What’s your plan?”
“For…?” I blink.
He looks scandalized. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”
“Forgot what?”
He lowers his voice dramatically. “Timothy’s birthday. Tomorrow.”
I stare at him.
“…What?”
He bursts out laughing. “Oh my God.”
“Tomorrow?” I repeat faintly.
“Yes. As in less than 10 hours from now.”
My brain scrambles.
Birthday.
Tomorrow.
He didn’t tell me.
Rowan presses a hand to his chest. “You are a terrible wife.”
“Shut up,” I hiss, heat flooding my face. “We’re not like that. Plus he never told me!”
Rowan snorts. “He wouldn’t. If it were up to him, he’d pretend it doesn’t exist.”
“That’s not fair,” I mutter.
“It’s accurate.”
I cross my arms, trying to process this. “Why wouldn’t he mention it?”
Rowan shrugs. “He doesn’t like fuss. Never has.”
“Well that’s too bad,” I say automatically.
Rowan’s grin sharpens. “Ah. So you do have a plan.”
“I don’t!” I protest. “I just found out!”
“Relax,” he says, amused. “I was kidding. Kind of.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “Do you even have his number?”
The question hits like a pebble to the forehead.
“…No.”
He pauses.
“You’re kidding.”
I shake my head slowly.
And now that he’s said it out loud, it feels glaring.
We live in the same house.
We eat together.
We’ve fallen asleep under trees and shared cereal at midnight.
And we don’t even have each other’s contact saved.
Something about that unsettles me more than I want to admit.
Rowan studies my expression. “Wow.”
“Don’t,” I warn.
He chuckles but softens slightly. “Here. I’ll send it to you.”
We exchange phones briefly. He types quickly, then hands mine back.
“There. Now you can join the modern world.”
I glance at the screen.
Timothy.
A simple name.
No heart. No nickname.
Just his name.
Rowan slips his phone back into his pocket. “And take mine too. In case you need help. With planning.” His grin turns mischievous. “Or any other situation.”
I roll my eyes but hand my phone back over. “You’re insufferable.”
“Yet invaluable.”
We finish exchanging contacts.
He opens his car door. “Don’t overthink it, Hannah. He won’t be expecting anything.”
“That’s exactly the problem.”
He laughs, salutes me with two fingers, and slides into his car. “Good luck.”
As he drives off, I stand there for a moment longer than necessary.
Birthday.
Tomorrow.
And he didn’t tell me.
Why does that sting?
I shake myself and head inside.
The moment I step through the door, I hear Timothy’s voice drifting from the sitting room.
“…No, I asked where she was.”
Lisa responds softly, something I can’t quite catch.
He appears in the hallway seconds later.
His eyes land on me.
And he smiles.
It’s immediate. Warm.
“You’re back.”
“Obviously,” I reply.
The smile falters slightly at my tone.
“What’s wrong?”
Nothing, I want to snap.
Everything, I almost say.
But instead, I smooth my expression. “Nothing.”
He studies me a beat longer, like he doesn’t believe that.
“Long day?” he asks carefully.
“Normal,” I say lightly. “Just normal.”
He nods slowly.
We move toward the dining room together.
Dinner is already set, grilled salmon, roasted vegetables, rice. Lisa retreats discreetly after serving.
We start eating.
He talks about work, something about a delayed shipment and a board decision. Normally, I’d ask questions. Tease him. Engage.
Tonight, my mind is elsewhere.
His birthday.
Why didn’t he tell me?
Does he not think it matters?
Does he not think I’d care?
He says something that requires a response.
“Sorry?” I blink.
He pauses. “I said the board finally approved the expansion.”
“Oh.” I nod quickly. “That’s great.”
He watches me carefully now.
“You’re awfully quiet.”
“I’m just tired.”
That’s not entirely untrue.
I’m tired of not knowing where we stand.
I push food around my plate, barely tasting it. Instead, I’m mentally drafting possibilities.
Small dinner?
No, too obvious.
Surprise party?
He hates fuss.
Gift?
What do you get a man who can buy anything he wants?
A watch? Too cliché.
Something personal.
Something thoughtful.
Something that says I see you.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again.
I look up.
Concern lines his forehead.
And suddenly I feel a little guilty.
“I’m fine,” I say quickly. “Just… full.”
I set my fork down.
“Already?”
“Yeah. I think I’m going to turn in.”
It’s earlier than usual.
He nods slowly. “Alright.”
I stand, offering a small smile. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Hannah.”
There’s confusion in his eyes as I leave.
I feel it at my back the entire way upstairs.
Once in my room, I change into something comfortable and grab Momo’s food bowl.
“Come here, you greedy monster,” I murmur.
He bounds over, tail wagging furiously.
I pour his food and sit on the edge of my bed while he devours it like he hasn’t eaten in days.
My mind is already racing.
I grab a notebook and pen from my desk.
Momo pauses mid-chew to glance at me.
He barks once.
I nod seriously. “I know.”
He tilts his head.
“Operation Secret Party,” I whisper.
He resumes eating.
I flip open the notebook and start scribbling and cancelling out and scribbling and striking out then huff in frustration.
I glance at Momo again.
He looks up, crumbs on his snout and an awfully judgy look in his eyes.
“What?” I ask. “This is important.”
He huffs and returns to his bowl.
I start writing faster. I want this to be perfect. Not extravagant. Just… perfect.
I sit back against my pillows, notebook open in my lap, pen tapping against the page.
He didn’t tell me.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t show him I care.
And maybe, just maybe…
He’ll finally see that too.