The crisp autumn air carried the scent of cinnamon and apples, mingling with the soft laughter of children in the garden of Lucia and John Green's estate. October 24th had arrived—George's eighth birthday.
He stood tall in his little suit, a navy blue blazer and polished shoes, his dark curls brushed neatly. But the true glow came from his eyes. For the first time in a long while, they held something bright—hope.
The party was elegant yet warm. Balloons in deep green and gold floated above, a magician entertained the kids, and the garden was transformed into a small wonderland. Mariana had helped coordinate the entire event in secret with the grandparents, staying hidden in the background.
George didn't know the full truth—yet. But he knew her. He felt her.
When she arrived, dressed in a soft cream sweater and jeans, she didn't steal attention. But George's eyes found her instantly. He walked over slowly, a little shy.
"You came," he said.
Mariana smiled, kneeling so they were eye-level. "Of course I did. Happy birthday, George."
He hugged her without hesitation. Tight. Long. The kind of hug only a child who's lost too much can give.
Lucia and John watched from afar, their eyes misty. They'd never seen George open up like this—except with Mary.
As the party unfolded, George opened his presents. Toys, books, even a telescope. But one gift stood out: a small wooden box, sealed with an intricate lock and a card that read:
"For the future you're building. From someone who believes in you."
Inside was a set of antique drafting tools—pens, compasses, and a personalized notebook. The inscription on the first page read: "Architect of Destiny."
George looked toward Mariana without saying a word.
She simply nodded.
They understood each other.