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Zoe’s kitchen counter is cluttered with mascarpone, espresso, and cocoa powder as she races to craft Kris’s birthday tiramisu. First, she whips egg yolks and sugar into a pale foam, folds in silky mascarpone, and sets the cream aside. Dunking ladyfingers into cooled coffee, she layers them in a dish, spreads the cream, then repeats—ending with a dusting of cocoa. The cake chills as she shifts focus to the living room, unraveling twinkling fairy lights around the doorway and scattering gold balloons. A handmade *“Happy Birthday, Kris!”* banner hangs crookedly above the couch—Zoe grins, adjusting it just as the fridge timer dings. She lights the last candle, steps back to admire her handiwork, and texts Kris: *“Get here before midnight… or the cake disappears!”*
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