"No need, Uncle. Just sending a 'Happy Birthday' message makes me happy."
Every year on this day, he's never absent.
No matter which city she's in, even if it's far away, he'll find a way to appear in front of her.
Once, she was studying in New York.
It was the depths of winter, with snow blocking the roads.
He still insisted on taking a flight that lasted over ten hours just to be with her for a piece of cake.
Another time, she rescheduled her class and missed their appointment.
When she got home, she found a box of still-warm tiramisu on the windowsill with a note attached.
Uncle knows you're busy, so he sends dessert first.
But this time, she didn't mention it, nor did he ask.
Between them, there were no urges, no complaints, not even a hint of emotional fluctuation.
All these little kindnesses, she remembers them all.
Curtis pretended to be angry, dragging his tone heavily.
"What? Now you've got wings and find what I send annoying?"
