I Walked Away And He Lost His Mind (Zephyra and Steven) novel Chapter 529

That naturally included my birthday.

In our past life, Steven had been reluctant to remember it at first. It was only after our relationship slowly improved that he became willing to celebrate with me.

Steven was always generous, showering me with luxury gifts. But what I truly wanted was a heartfelt gesture from him: a meal made by the man I loved, and a chocolate cake. But I was always afraid he'd think I was too demanding, so I never mentioned it outright.

In my past life, he never did.

But now… Steven had actually done it. This shouldn't be possible!

Steven held out a bouquet of fresh flowers, a rare hint of gentleness in his handsome features. “Happy birthday, Zephyra.”

I clenched my fists, my eyes darting from the flowers in his arms back to his face. “Steven, what kind of game are you playing?”

Steven looked at me, his eyes deep and unreadable, and placed the flowers on a nearby chair.

He sat down beside me. “I'm celebrating your birthday. Do you like it?”

I sneered. “You crashed my wedding, threatened me, and put me through hell, and now you're wishing me a happy birthday? Steven, are you sick?”

Sometimes I was just so confused. Was this about his bruised ego and his need to conquer me, or did he actually like me?

Steven seemed to have grown accustomed to my insults, because he didn't get angry.

He placed the soup in front of me, his voice flat. “Are you going to eat it yourself, or should I feed you?”

I chose neither. I raised my hand to slap the bowl away, but Steven caught my wrist.

He looked at me. “Zephyra, I want you to live a long and happy life. There's no need to ruin your own birthday just to spite me. Just eat it, okay?”

I met his gaze. He didn't look away. I saw no trace of the day's fury, no mockery or scorn in his eyes. He seemed surprisingly calm and sincere.

Steven had calmed down.

And he genuinely wanted to celebrate my birthday.

That’s funny, isn’t it? I pulled my hand free, a mocking smile on my lips, scorning this crocodile-tear performance. Then, I mercilessly knocked the bowl to the floor.

“Steven, you have no right to celebrate my birthday with me.”

What I wanted was one from the man I loved, not from Steven.

Steven stared at the spilled soup on the floor, his handsome brow furrowed with a dark gloom, but his lips were pale, as if my words had struck a nerve.

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