A/N: This chapter is a two parter, so Chapter Twenty-Nine will be the second half. Enjoy part 1!

𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐲𝐧'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

The soft warmth of the morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting golden streaks across the bedroom.

I stirred, stretching lazily under the comforter, the faint smell of coffee and something sweet tickling my nose. My lips curved into a sleepy smile as I blinked awake.

It was my birthday, and while I didn't expect anything extravagant, waking up next to Y/n always made any day better.

I rolled over, my hand instinctively reaching for her side of the bed, only to find it empty. Frowning slightly, I sat up, running a hand through my messy hair. "Y/n?" I called out, my voice raspy with sleep.

No answer.

Throwing the blanket off, I slipped on one of Y/n's hoodies that was draped over the chair—it was soft, oversized, and still carried her scent.

With a yawn, I padded toward the bathroom, doing my morning routine before going over to the bedroom door, the faint sound of music and the clink of dishes growing louder as I approached.

Pushing the door open, I stopped in my tracks, my eyes widening.

The living room was a sea of pastel balloons, streamers hung from the ceiling, and a huge "Happy Birthday" banner stretched across the wall.

On the coffee table sat a stack of beautifully wrapped presents, surrounded by bouquets of fresh flowers.

"Babe," I breathed, my hand flying to my chest.

"Good morning, birthday girl!" Y/n's voice called out from the kitchen, where she stood flipping pancakes on the stove.

She was wearing an apron over her sweatpants and a tank top, looking impossibly cute and domestic.

I stepped further into the room, my eyes darting from the decorations to the gifts. "Did you do all this... this morning?"

Y/n turned, spatula in hand, and grinned. "What can I say? I'm a woman of many talents."

I laughed, shaking my head in disbelief as I walked over to her. "This is insane. And so beautiful. I can't believe you did this for me."

Y/n smirked, setting the spatula down and wiping her hands on the apron. "Only the best for my girl." She reached out, pulling me into a hug, her arms wrapping snugly around my waist.

I buried my face in her neck, inhaling her familiar scent. "You're amazing. Thank you."

"Happy birthday, my love." I turned in her arms, my eyes shimmering with emotion. "You're amazing. Thank you."

"Anything for you," she said, kissing me softly.

"Okay, but wait," I said, pulling back. "Did you make those balloon arches yourself?"

"Let's just say Dylan is surprisingly good at party aesthetics," she admitted, laughing.

"I need a picture of this," I said excitedly, grabbing my phone.

"No pictures until you see your gifts," Y/n said, taking my hand and leading me toward the table where she'd set up a small pile of presents.

I gasped, my hands flying to my cheeks. "Y/n, you didn't have to do all this."

"I wanted to," she said simply.

"Wait, there's more," she said, pulling back slightly but keeping her hands on my hips.

"There's more?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.

She nodded, her grin mischievous. "Breakfast is ready. Pancakes, eggs, bacon—your favorites."

"You're really setting the bar impossibly high for future birthdays," I teased, letting her guide me to the kitchen table, which was set with plates of food and a single lit candle in the middle of the stack of pancakes.

Y/n gestured dramatically. "A candle for the queen. Make a wish."

I laughed, leaning down to blow it out. "Do I tell you my wish?"

"Only if you want it to come true," she said, her tone playful as she pulled out a chair for me.

I sat down, looking up at her with mock seriousness. "I wished for chocolate chips in the pancakes. Don't tell me you forgot."

Y/n gasped, her hand flying to her chest. "Madelyn Cline, do you doubt me? Of course there are chocolate chips."

I cut into the stack, revealing the gooey chocolate inside. "Okay, I'm impressed."

"You better be," she said, leaning down to press a kiss to my temple before sitting across from me.

As we ate, I couldn't stop smiling, the sheer effort and thoughtfulness of everything overwhelming me in the best way.

"You're staring," Y/n said, smirking as she sipped her coffee.

"Can you blame me?" I countered, gesturing toward the decorations. "You really outdid yourself."

"I figured I needed to make up for the fact that I am not the best at baking cakes," she joked.

I laughed, reaching across the table to take her hand. "You're perfect. Burnt cakes and all."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," she teased, squeezing my hand.

When we finished eating, Y/n stood and held out her hand. "Now, for part two of your morning surprise."

"Part two?" I asked, taking her hand as she pulled me to my feet.

She led me to the coffee table where the stack of gifts waited. "Okay, here's the deal," she said, her voice mock-serious. "You can open one now. The rest are for later."

I pouted. "Only one?"

"Rules are rules," she said, smirking.

"Fine," I said, picking the smallest box. I unwrapped it carefully, revealing a delicate gold bracelet with a tiny charm of a wave—something I'd mentioned in passing months ago.

"Y/n..." I breathed, looking up at her.

"You like it?" she asked, her voice softer now.

"I love it," I said, wrapping my arms around her neck. "How do you always know exactly what I want?"

"Because I listen," she murmured, her hands resting on my hips.

I smiled, pressing a kiss to her lips. "You're the best girlfriend in the world."

"And don't you forget it," she quipped, pulling me closer.

For a moment, we just stood there, wrapped up in each other. Everything else faded away—just me, Y/n, and the overwhelming feeling of being loved.

"So, what's the plan for the rest of the day?" I asked, resting my head on her shoulder.

"Well," she said, her tone carefully neutral, "we've got dinner tonight with some of your friends. But until then, the day is yours. Whatever you want to do."

"Hmm," I said, pulling back to look at her. "Does that include making out on the couch for a few hours?"

Y/n grinned, leaning down until our noses brushed. "That's a birthday request I can definitely fulfill."

.  .  .

𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

The soft hum of Florence's favorite playlist filled the air as I sat in front of the vanity mirror, carefully curling a strand of hair.

My nerves felt like they were dancing a little too enthusiastically, making my hands shake slightly. I let out a breath and set the curling iron down, trying to focus on not overthinking everything about tonight.

"You look like you're about to throw up," Florence said, her tone casual as she leaned in the doorway, holding a glass of champagne.

I shot her a glare through the mirror. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"I'm just saying," she continued, taking a slow sip and walking into the room. "You've been fidgeting with your hair for the past fifteen minutes. It's already perfect, Scar. Leave it alone."

I sighed, leaning back in the chair. "I'm not fidgeting."

"You are," she countered, plopping onto the bed. "It's fine, though. Nerves make you relatable. Imagine if people knew Scarlett Johansson was actually human."

"Ha, ha," I said dryly, reaching for my brush. "Do you have anything useful to add, or are you just here to make fun of me?"

Florence grinned, setting her glass on the bedside table. "Both, obviously. But seriously, you look amazing already. Y/n's not going to know what hit her."

Her words made my stomach flip, and I shot her another warning look. "Flo, we're not doing this. She's with Madelyn."

"Doesn't mean you can't look good," Florence said, shrugging. "And, you know, maybe remind her of what she's missing."

I groaned, running a hand through my hair. "This is exactly why I didn't want to come tonight."

"No, you didn't want to come because you're scared," she corrected, standing and walking over to me.

She rested her hands on my shoulders, meeting my gaze in the mirror. "But, Scar, you're here now. So, own it. You've got this."

I bit my lip, her words sinking in as I looked at my reflection. The dress I'd chosen—a sleek black number that hugged my figure in all the right places—did look good. Florence was right about that much.

"I just don't want to make things awkward," I admitted, my voice quieter now. "It's her birthday. This isn't about me."

Florence's expression softened, and she squeezed my shoulders. "And it won't be. But there's no harm in showing up and looking like a goddess while you're at it."

I rolled my eyes, but a small smile tugged at my lips. "You're impossible."

"And you're stunning," she shot back, grabbing her champagne and heading back to the bed. "Now, hurry up and finish. We can't be late, or they'll start thinking you're too scared to show."

"I am scared," I muttered, standing to grab my heels.

Florence raised an eyebrow. "And yet, you're still going. That's the Scarlett I know."

She was right, of course. I was terrified—terrified of seeing Y/n, of what she might say, or worse, what she wouldn't say.

But there was also a small part of me that couldn't resist the chance to be near her again, even if it was complicated.

Florence stretched out on the bed, scrolling through her phone as I slipped into my heels. "By the way," she said casually, "if Y/n doesn't at least glance your way tonight, I'll eat my shoe."

I laughed despite myself, shaking my head. "That's a bet you don't want to make."

"Oh, I do," she said, smirking. "Because look at you. You're glowing, Scar. If she doesn't notice, she's blind."

"She's in love with someone else," I reminded her, though the words felt heavier than I intended.

Florence waved a hand dismissively. "Details. People can be in love with someone else and still have their head turned. I'm just saying, don't underestimate your power."

I grabbed my clutch, giving her a pointed look. "This isn't a competition."

"Of course not," she said, sitting up and fixing her dress. "But if it were, you'd win. Hands down."

I couldn't help but laugh at her confidence. "Thanks, Flo. You're the best cheerleader."

"Thank you. Now, let's go. The world—or at least Y/n—needs to see you."

I took a deep breath, smoothing my dress one last time as we headed out. Florence's words echoed in my mind, a mix of reassurance and challenge. Tonight wasn't about me, but maybe—just maybe—it didn't have to be entirely about Madelyn either.

.  .  .

𝐘/𝐍'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

The evening sunlight spilled into the bedroom, casting a soft, golden glow over the space.

Madelyn stood at the vanity, fluffing her hair and inspecting her makeup, while I lounged on the bed, fully dressed but refusing to leave her alone.

"Babe, we're going to be late if you keep doing that," I teased, propping myself up on my elbow, the smirk on my face growing as I watched her fluff her hair in the mirror.

Madelyn shot me a look through the mirror, her lips pressing together as if to suppress a smile. "Doing what?"

"Being so damn perfect," I said, letting my eyes trail lazily over her figure. Her cheeks turned a soft pink, and I could see the corners of her mouth twitch, fighting back a grin.

"Smooth, Evans," she said, turning her attention back to her makeup. "But you don't get to rush me. I'm the birthday girl."

"And you're milking it for all it's worth," I shot back, finally pushing myself off the bed and walking over to her. My hands found her hips, and I gently pulled her back against me. "Need help?"

"I'm fine," she replied, though her voice softened when my hands slid just a little lower, fingertips brushing the tops of her thighs through the silky fabric of her dress.

"You're better than fine," I murmured, dipping my head to press a kiss to the side of her neck. My lips lingered against her skin, the faint scent of her perfume making my head spin. "You're stunning."

Madelyn's blush deepened, but she swatted my hand lightly. "You're going to smudge my makeup."

"Worth it," I said with a grin, moving my lips down to her exposed shoulder. "You smell incredible, by the way. Like... vanilla and temptation."

"Y/n," she said, her voice sharp but tinged with laughter as she turned her head to glance at me in the mirror. "We're supposed to be getting ready, not... whatever it is you're trying to do."

"Oh, I know exactly what I'm trying to do," I said, my tone low as I dragged my lips just beneath her ear. She inhaled sharply, her hand tightening briefly on the edge of the vanity.

"You're impossible," she muttered, trying to shake me off as she reached for her mascara. But her movements were slower, as though my proximity was already working its magic.

"And you're irresistible," I countered, letting my hands wander, fingertips teasing the curve of her waist. "You really want to finish getting ready when I'm right here? You can't tell me you don't feel it."

Madelyn shot me a glare through the mirror, but her resolve was cracking—I could see it in the way her lips parted and the faint rise and fall of her chest. "I do feel it," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But we're going to be late."

"Let me be late because of you," I murmured, dipping my head to nip playfully at her earlobe. The soft gasp that escaped her lips sent a rush of heat through me. "I can't keep my hands off you, Madelyn. Look at you."

Her cheeks flushed deeper as she met my gaze in the mirror, her eyes darkening. "You're not playing fair."

"I never said I'd play fair," I replied, spinning her gently to face me. My hands stayed firmly on her hips as I pinned her with a heated look. "You're too damn gorgeous, and I'm only human."

Her eyes searched mine, and I saw the hesitation flickering, the tug-of-war between her resolve and the pull between us. Her fingers toyed with the lapels of my jacket, the light, nervous touch setting my skin on fire. "Y/n..."

"Yes?" I whispered, leaning in until our noses brushed. My voice dropped to a murmur, full of unspoken promises. "Say the word, babe. Just one word."

Her lips parted, and before she could speak, I closed the distance between us, capturing her lips in a slow, tender kiss. I picked her up and sat her on the counter.

She melted against me instantly, her hands sliding up to grip the back of my neck. My fingers tightened on her waist, pulling her closer until there wasn't a breath of space left between us.

Her kiss deepened, and I felt the tension in her body dissolve as her hands slipped into my hair. The faintest sound—a mix between a sigh and a moan—escaped her lips, and it sent a shiver down my spine.

"You're driving me crazy," I murmured against her lips, breaking away just enough to speak. My hands slid up her back, feeling the delicate fabric of her dress beneath my palms. "You know that, right?"

Madelyn didn't respond with words, only pulled me back in, her lips moving against mine with a newfound urgency.

My heart thundered in my chest as her fingers curled into my hair, her touch making it nearly impossible to think.

I let my hands explore, tracing the curve of her back and settling on her hips again. Tilting my head, I kissed her deeper, savoring every second. The warmth of her, the way her body fit perfectly against mine—it was intoxicating.

My lips trailed down her jaw to the soft curve of her neck, and she tilted her head to give me more access, her breathing uneven. "Y/n..." she whispered, her voice breathless and trembling.

"Hmm?" I mumbled against her skin, my hands gripping her tighter.

The way her voice wrapped around my name sent a jolt of heat through me, and I couldn't resist sliding my hands lower, just enough to test the limits.

My fingertips brushed the bare skin of her thigh beneath her dress, tracing slow, deliberate circles that made her shiver.

She let out a soft moan, the sound vibrating against my lips as I kissed the delicate spot just below her ear.

Encouraged, I let my hand venture higher, grazing the fabric of her dress as it rode up ever so slightly under my touch.

Her breathing hitched, her hands sliding from my shoulders to my chest, fingers trembling as they fisted into the fabric of my jacket.

"Y/n," she murmured again, her voice now a mix of warning and desire, though she didn't stop me.

If anything, she pressed closer, her hands wandering until one drifted to the waistband of my pants.

Her fingers toyed with the belt, testing the buckle as her lips found mine again in a kiss that sent sparks shooting through me.

My grip on her tightened, and my free hand slid up her back, pulling her impossibly closer. The heat between us was electric, every touch, every sound building the tension to a fever pitch.

Her hand at my belt faltered, but she didn't pull away, her fingertips brushing against the clasp in a way that made my heart race.

I nipped at her bottom lip, drawing another soft, breathless moan from her.

My hand on her thigh moved higher, brushing just beneath the hem of her dress, the fabric hiking up slightly under my touch.

Her knees faltered for a moment, and I steadied her with a soft chuckle, murmuring, "You okay, babe?"

Madelyn didn't answer right away, her lips parting as though she were trying to find the words.

But before she could speak, she let out a shaky laugh and pushed lightly against my chest.

"Wait," she said, her voice uneven but firm. "We have to stop."

I froze, my hands stilling where they were. "Stop?" I repeated, though my voice came out low and rough, my body still buzzing from the way she'd just unraveled under my touch.

"Yes," she said, her cheeks flushed and her lips swollen. She scooted back, putting a shaky hand to her hair as if to compose herself. "If we keep going, we're never leaving, and this makeup I worked so hard on is going to be completely ruined."

I groaned, leaning my head back dramatically. "So what? We skip the event and stay here instead."

Madelyn laughed softly, though her eyes still held that lingering heat. "As much as that idea sounds... really, really good right now, I can't. We can't."

I sighed, dragging a hand through my hair as I stepped back, letting her go. "You're killing me, Madelyn."

"And you're impossible," she shot back, getting down, turning to the mirror and quickly adjusting her dress.

Her voice was steadier now, though her cheeks were still rosy, and the smile tugging at her lips betrayed how much I'd gotten to her.

"Now sit down and behave, or we really won't make it on time."

I sat on the edge of the bed, watching her with a smirk. "Behave? You're asking a lot."

"Trust me," she said, glancing at me through the mirror as she fixed her lipstick, her tone teasing. "This isn't over."

"Oh, I know," I replied, leaning back on my hands. "I'm counting on it."

Madelyn laughed again, the sound warm and light as she shook her head. The way she looked at me in the mirror said she wouldn't have things any other way.