The bar was small but charming—amber lights hung from the ceiling like fireflies trapped in time, casting golden reflections on the bottles lined up behind the bar. It was the kind of place that whispered secrets instead of shouting songs. Outside, the night was a deep blue, dotted with stars, but inside the cramped space, all was warmth and muffled laughter.

Joseph sat on one of the high stools, his smile a little wider than usual. He wore a black T-shirt with the collar slightly loose and the sleeves rolled up, revealing his strong forearms. He had a beer in his hand, and his cheeks were already starting to tinge a faint red.

"Did you know I've never celebrated my birthday with anyone like this, in a bar?" he said, chuckling softly, his eyes fixed on you, with a slight glow, a mix of alcohol and genuine joy. "Usually it's just an old pie in the fridge and me pretending I forgot the date."

Joseph turned the glass between his fingers thoughtfully. There was something in the way he looked—not just at you, but through you—as if he were searching for a place to rest, even if he still doubted it existed.

"It's weird," he murmured, leaning a little closer, his voice almost lost in the murmur of the music. "but... you make me feel comfortable. Like my chest feels less tight. That doesn't happen often."