Tom got her drift. This girl had always been soft-hearted-her emails made that clear. Sure, she wanted him back, but she wasn’t about to strong-arm him into it. She wanted him to have his space. Tom, being older, could usually read her like a book. But that age gap also meant he felt responsible for giving her the stability she craved. He didn’t want her carrying any weight on her shoulders, so he flashed her an easy smile and said, “Don’t sweat it. I’ve thought this through.”
Agnes didn’t press him. She felt the warmth of his hand in hers, clutched the flowers he’d bought in the other, and turned to gaze out the window at the city lights.
“Wanna put on some music?” Tom asked, worried she might be bored.
She tilted her head, considering it. “I’d rather hear you sing.”
“I’m terrible at singing.”
“Doesn’t matter. I still want to hear you.”
Tom paused, then nodded seriously. “Alright. I’ll practice something when we get back and sing it just for you. Deal?”
“Deal!” Agnes grinned, tucking the promise away in her memory.
“Why don’t you pick the song?” Tom suggested. “I’m not sure what you’re into.”
She thought for a moment. “How about this? You sing whatever you want, and I’ll sing something back to you. We’ll trade. Sound good?”
“You’re on.”
The drive back was quiet, but Tom’s grip on her hand tightened. Every second felt like a little slice of heaven.
Before long, they pulled up to Agnes’s apartment. Tom grabbed a moon lamp and a cake from the trunk, and they headed for the elevator together.
When they stepped into the living room, Mrs. Brown was there, her face lighting up at the sight of Agnes with flowers and Tom with the cake. “You’re back! Agnes, happy birthday!”
Agnes blinked, surprised. “How did you know?”
“Thank you, Mrs. Brown,” Tom chimed in.
“Come on in, you two. The noodles are ready,” Mrs. Brown said, her smile warmer than usual. “Go wash up.”
Tom set the cake down, took the flowers from Agnes, and led her to the bathroom. When they returned, two steaming bowls of noodles were waiting on the table.
“Tom, Agnes, take your time. I’m just popping out to grab something,” Mrs. Brown said, slipping on her shoes by the door.
“Mrs. Brown, have you eaten?” Agnes asked quickly.
“I’m all set, don’t worry about me. Enjoy your meal.” With a final warm smile, Mrs. Brown left.
“Sit,” Tom said softly, pulling out a chair for her.
Agnes loved these little gestures. It hit her then-he wasn’t cold by nature. He’d just been guarded before, holding back. But now, with his heart open, he was thoughtful, warm, and everything she’d hoped for.
They sat across from each other, sharing the noodles. To Agnes, this wasn’t just a birthday meal-it was their first dinner as a couple, something she’d remember forever.
“Don’t bite through the noodles,” Tom said with a smirk. “Eating them whole brings long life and good health.”
Agnes laughed. “I don’t really buy into that stuff.”
“So, did you always have noodles on your birthdays?”
She thought for a moment. “Depended on the year. Sometimes I did, sometimes I didn’t. If I was at school or my parents were swamped at the flower shop, it didn’t happen. But yeah, I’ve had them before.”
As they ate, the topic of parents inevitably came up. Tom hesitated, then broached the subject carefully. “Bubu, about our engagement… is it real? Do we need to do it again later?”