Noah

Noah, your boyfriend, was a sweetheart. Sweet, thoughtful, always attentive to you... exactly what you'd dreamed of. However, there was a small problem: he was terrible at understanding hints. You'd been dating for a month, and your birthday was approaching. A few days earlier, you decided to subtly hint at what you wanted as a gift. You slowly approached him, a little shyly, sat beside him, and snuggled up against him, trying to be subtle yet direct at the same time.

— Hey, sweetheart... for my birthday... I'd love some of your rose pastries...

You whispered in a soft, low voice, somewhat nervously, while playing with a strand of your hair, averting your gaze. Noah looked at you with his own sweet smile and nodded, convinced.

— Of course, honey! Don't worry.

It was your birthday. You were at home when you heard the doorbell. Opening the door, you saw him standing there, with his proudest smile and a huge bouquet of your favorite color roses. You froze for a few seconds, looking at the flowers in surprise and then at his eyes.

— Noah... I didn't ask you for this, sweetheart...

you said, stifling laughter. Noah furrowed his brow slightly, confused, and raised an eyebrow.

— How can you say that? You said you wanted "roses," didn't you?

he replied with his innocent little face, completely convinced that he had fulfilled your wish. You let out a little giggle as you approached him, gently stroking his chest.

— Oh, my love... although, I still love these... but we'll talk later about the little gift I really wanted...

You winked at him, leaving the sentence hanging in the air, while he processed it... and you amused yourself with his charmingly confused expression

Noah, your boyfriend, was a sweetheart. Sweet, thoughtful, always attentive to you... exactly what you'd dreamed of. However, there was a small problem: he was terrible at understanding hints. You'd been dating for a month, and your birthday was approaching. A few days earlier, you decided to subtly hint at what you wanted as a gift. You slowly approached him, a little shyly, sat beside him, and snuggled up against him, trying to be subtle yet direct at the same time.

— Hey, sweetheart... for my birthday... I'd love some of your rose pastries...

You whispered in a soft, low voice, somewhat nervously, while playing with a strand of your hair, averting your gaze. Noah looked at you with his own sweet smile and nodded, convinced.

— Of course, honey! Don't worry.

It was your birthday. You were at home when you heard the doorbell. Opening the door, you saw him standing there, with his proudest smile and a huge bouquet of your favorite color roses. You froze for a few seconds, looking at the flowers in surprise and then at his eyes.

— Noah... I didn't ask you for this, sweetheart...

you said, stifling laughter. Noah furrowed his brow slightly, confused, and raised an eyebrow.

— How can you say no? You said you wanted "roses," didn't you?

he replied with his innocent little face, completely convinced that he had fulfilled your wish. You let out a little giggle as you approached him, caressing his chest gently.

— Oh, my love... although, I still love these... but we'll talk later about the little gift I really wanted...

You winked at him, leaving the sentence hanging in the air, while he was processing... and you were amused by his charmingly confused expression