Back at the hotel, as midnight drew near, Otto paused at the front desk. A few quiet words with the staff, a subtle nod in return—and he rejoined Cecilia with a faint shift in his demeanor, the barest hint of anticipation softening the usual precision in his eyes.
"Come to my room first," he said softly. "I have something for you."
Cecilia nodded without hesitation, a small, trusting smile touching her lips as she followed him inside, the warmth of his presence drawing her forward like a quiet promise.
"Turn off the lights." He waited until she had slipped into her slippers, the soft fabric brushing against her feet in the familiar comfort of the room.
"Turn off the lights… it's already so dark." Cecilia tilted her head, utterly bewildered, her voice carrying a gentle lilt of curiosity.
"Just do it," Otto murmured with gentle insistence, a rare tenderness threading through his tone. "It's called ceremony."
"??? Okay."
Cecilia flicked the switch. The room sank into velvet darkness, the faint hum of the city outside muffled into a distant lull. Otto took her hand—his fingers warm and steady against hers—and guided her to the table, easing her into the chair with careful deliberation, as though handling something infinitely precious.
"Wait here—just a few seconds."
"???"
Her confusion deepened, a quiet flutter in her chest, yet she sat still, the subtle scent of vanilla lingering in the air as she listened to the quiet pad of his footsteps retreating.
"Dong… dong… dong…"
The distant city bells began to toll, their deep resonance vibrating faintly through the walls. With nothing else to occupy her, Cecilia counted silently in the hush, her breath steadying with each measured stroke.
One, two, three…
Twelve in total.
When the final chime dissolved into the night, a vague silhouette settled opposite her. The footsteps had ceased, leaving only the soft rhythm of shared silence.
Through the colored glow filtering from the window—neon hues of the city beyond casting faint, ethereal patterns across the room—she watched the man cross his thumb and middle finger.
Snap.
Soft flames flickered to life on the table, candlelight dancing across Otto's features in warm, golden waves, illuminating the quiet devotion in his gaze.
Before her sat a delicate, exquisite cake—its surface adorned with subtle elegance, the faint aroma of fresh cream and berries rising gently in the air.
"Happy birthday, Cecilia."