Falling for my boyfriend's Navy brother novel Chapter 306

**TITLE: Wrong Person 306**
**Chapter 306**

I find myself unable to tear my gaze away from him.

Since the moment the lights flickered on, illuminating the room, he has remained silent. The jubilant shouts of “Surprise!” echo in my ears as a sea of familiar faces floods into view—friends and loved ones, people we cherish and trust. Yet, amidst the joyful chaos, Asher stands there, still. His eyes move methodically around the room, as if he’s attempting to soak in every detail, every small moment, without revealing a single hint of his thoughts.

His jaw tightens slightly, muscles flexing as he takes in the vibrant clusters of balloons, the table laden with his favorite foods—delicious aromas wafting through the air—and the cake, adorned with a wobbly chocolate number 24, piped on top with a shaky hand.

He surveys the scene: the silly costume that Max wears, the face paint smeared across Mila’s cheeks, and the absurd cutout of the Grinch that someone—most likely Anna—has propped in a corner next to a plate of steaming dumplings.

And then, his gaze locks onto mine.

I lift my chin defiantly, standing tall under the weight of his stare. My heart races, pounding in my chest like a drum, just as it always does when he looks at me in that way—like I’m the focal point of something grand. Like I belong to him.

He strides toward me, each step deliberate and measured, while the laughter and chatter of our friends hum softly in the background. When he reaches me, he leans in, his lips brushing lightly against the shell of my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.

“You’re the best,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm, filled with gratitude. “For this.”

A soft breath escapes my lips, and I blink rapidly, fighting back the sudden lump that forms in my throat.

“I thought you deserved a big birthday surprise,” I respond, my hands instinctively resting against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I felt terrible for being so busy lately. I made you think I forgot.”

“You didn’t have to do any of this,” he replies, his tone gentle, yet firm.

“But I wanted to,” I insist, my heart swelling with the truth of my words.

The reality is, he never once mentioned his birthday—not even in passing, not even as a joke. I only discovered it a few months back when Rooster casually dropped the date while recounting a mission story. I immediately jotted it down, my mind racing with ideas. Three weeks ago, I had double-checked with Rooster, confirming the date, and began plotting this elaborate surprise. Rooster had told me that Asher’s last three birthdays had all been spent during deployments, that they passed by like any other day—or worse, days when everything went wrong. No candles. No cake. No one to say, “I’m glad you were born.”

No, that just wouldn’t do for me.

If he’s mine, then he deserves to be celebrated. Even in the midst of chaos. Especially then.

“I got all your favorite things,” I say, nudging my nose against his jaw affectionately. “The dumplings, the noodles, the beef satay, the rice balls. And that weird spicy jelly drink you love is chilling in the fridge. Boomer thinks it’s disgusting.”

“Boomer’s wrong,” he replies with a hint of amusement.

He then produces a small bag from behind his back, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

“And I got you yours,” he announces, his voice tinged with playful pride. “I picked it up for you when I thought today was just another rehearsal day.”

I blink in surprise, taking the bag from him, and my heart leaps at the sight of the sushi brand logo emblazoned on the side.

“You didn’t,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I did,” he confirms, a satisfied smile dancing on his lips.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Princess, you threw me a tactical-themed surprise party complete with balloons and Squidward. I have to match your energy somehow.”

I can’t help but laugh, leaning into him as we momentarily lose ourselves in our own world, amidst the joyful noise and music buzzing around us like static. But in this moment, all I feel is him—steady, warm, and undeniably present.

Soon, the others begin to filter in. First, it’s Mila, who launches herself at Asher, wrapping her arms around him and exclaiming, “Birthday Bro!” Then comes Boomer, who gives him a hearty clap on the back and a knowing look that says, “I know you hate this, but just deal with it.” Rooster smirks, handing him a cold beer, while Max dives into an animated monologue about how this proves he could absolutely survive Navy SEAL training.

“I mean, just look at me,” Max boasts, gesturing to his cargo pants and the way-too-tight vest he’s wearing. “Don’t I look like I belong? I’m a natural.”

“No,” Asher, Boomer, and Rooster respond in perfect unison.

Max blinks in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

Rooster takes a leisurely sip of his drink, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “You’d trip on your shoelace and give away the whole team’s location in five seconds.”

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