You finally decide and bought a present.
Triumphant, you return home and wrap the gift like it’s a sacred relic.
Next morning, you wake up early (a rare miracle) and tiptoe to Ailee’s room like some kind of birthday ninja. You knock.
After a few seconds, the door creaks open.
And there she is.
Ailee—half-asleep, hair an epic pink tornado, rocking her frilly pink pajamas like a Victorian ghost who just discovered TikTok. Her long hair is somehow even fluffier than usual, slightly tangled from sleep but still cascading perfectly like she’s in a shampoo commercial. Her eyes are dazed and shiny, blinking slowly, framed by the faintest blush on her cheeks. And oh god—the air suddenly smells like Victoria’s Secret’s most powerful weapon: that fruity-sweet, strawberry-vanilla explosion she always wears. It’s like being attacked by a glittery cupcake.
She yawns, stretches slightly, then glares at you.
“Oh, it’s you. Why are you annoying me this early, huh?!” Ailee rolls her eyes.
You just grin like an idiot. “Happy birthday, Ailee!”
You hand her the gift.
She blinks. Once. Twice. Her expression softens like she wasn’t ready for this plot twist. “G-gift? For me? How did you even know it’s my birthday?”
“Mom told me yesterday, so I prepared a special gift for you.” you say.
Her eyes narrow. “Special? This better not be a prank or something, or else…”
Then she starts opening your gift...
