The air was unusually still that morning, as if Tokyo itself had paused to watch the day unfold. Haruto awoke to the soft hum of morning traffic outside the dorm window, sunlight streaming through the blinds like golden ribbons. It was his birthday—but strangely, it felt like any other day.
There were no birthday texts. Not even a simple "Happy birthday!" from his classmates in the group chat. Even Aiko had gone quiet. He tried brushing it off, telling himself she was probably caught up with her art classes. After all, life in university rarely left time for celebrations.
Still, a quiet unease settled in his chest as he moved through the day.
Classes passed in a blur. The astronomy lecture, which usually lit his curiosity like a spark, felt unusually slow. His thoughts kept drifting—not to stars or orbits—but to Aiko. Had she really forgotten?
When he returned to the dorm late in the afternoon, a note was taped to his door. Aiko's handwriting, in delicate strokes:
"Come to the rooftop at 6 PM. Dress warm. —Aiko."
He stared at the note for a long moment, a flutter of hope returning to his chest. He checked the clock: 5:32 PM.
Heart racing now, Haruto changed into his favorite hoodie—the one Aiko had once said made him look like a wandering poet—and grabbed his camera, just in case. The rooftop had become their shared little escape since moving to Tokyo, but the note made it feel… different tonight.
He climbed the stairs two at a time, the final door creaking open with a rusty groan.
What greeted him stopped him in his tracks.
Soft fairy lights were strung across the rooftop fence, glowing like fireflies in the dusky sky. A small table was set in the center, draped in a light cloth, with two chairs tucked neatly under it. A thermos and two mugs sat beside a plate of taiyaki—their favorite snack from the street vendor near campus.
But it wasn't the setup that took his breath away—it was Aiko.
She stood near the railing, holding a small box wrapped in navy blue paper. Her hair was pinned loosely, and her scarf fluttered gently in the evening wind. When she turned to face him, her smile lit up the entire rooftop.
"Happy birthday, Haruto," she said softly.
He walked toward her, still stunned, heart hammering. "You… remembered?"
She laughed. "Of course I remembered. I've been planning this for weeks."
He couldn't help but smile, a deep warmth blooming in his chest. "No one said anything. You even ignored my messages this morning."
"I had to throw you off," she said, giggling. "You get suspicious way too easily."
They sat at the table, hands brushing as they reached for the mugs of warm cocoa. Aiko poured from the thermos, the scent of chocolate and cinnamon curling between them.
"You did all this for me?" Haruto asked, still in awe.
"You've been working so hard lately," Aiko said. "Between your job, your astronomy club, and classes… I didn't want your birthday to get lost in everything else. I wanted you to have a quiet moment. Just us. Just stars."
As if summoned, the sky darkened to deep navy, and the first stars began to twinkle into view.
Haruto reached for her hand across the table. "This is perfect. More than perfect."
Aiko blushed slightly, then pushed the small box toward him. "Open it."
He peeled away the wrapping to reveal a sleek, leather-bound journal. Inside the first page was a tiny painting—a watercolor sketch of the two of them stargazing under the same rooftop sky. Beneath it, in delicate handwriting, were the words:
"To the boy who found constellations in everyday moments. Keep chasing the stars."
Haruto stared at the page for a long moment, swallowing hard. "Aiko… this is…"
"It's for your ideas," she said. "Your future theories, your little poetic thoughts, your daydreams. Whatever you want it to be."
"I love it," he said, voice thick with emotion. "And I love you."
She smiled, eyes gleaming. "Good. Because I'm not done yet."
From her bag, she pulled out a folded blanket and led him to the far side of the rooftop where a small open space was cleared. They sat, legs stretched out, the city glittering far below them.
Above, the sky was alive with stars.
They lay side by side in silence for a while, warmth shared through the blanket and their fingers interlocked.
"You remember when we first talked about dreams?" Haruto asked.
Aiko nodded. "At the hidden garden."
He turned to her. "My dreams are still the same. But now, every version of them includes you."
She leaned into his shoulder, voice no louder than a whisper. "Mine too."
A shooting star streaked across the sky then, a silver arc of light burning brightly for a second before fading.
Haruto glanced at her. "Did you make a wish?"
She smiled against his shoulder. "I don't have to. I'm already living it."
And as the wind danced around them and the stars shimmered like confetti in the sky, Haruto realized that sometimes, the smallest, quietest celebrations could mean the most. There was no grand party, no loud music or flashing lights—just one rooftop, one girl, and a night full of love and light.
And it was everything he could've ever wished for.