Valentine's Day.
I'd never been the type to care about it. All the grand gestures, the overpriced gifts, the exaggerated romance—it always seemed like a ridiculous excuse to pressure people into proving their love in some artificial, performative way.
At least, that's what I used to think.
Now, eight months into my relationship with Layla, I was realising just how completely and utterly screwed I was.
Because I wanted to do something. Something special. Something that would make her smile, something that would show her how much she meant to me.
And I had no fucking idea what to do.
The morning had started with me sitting at my kitchen counter, staring at a blank notepad like it might magically start writing itself.