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Zoe hums as she gathers ingredients: mascarpone, coffee, cocoa, ladyfingers. She whips egg yolks and sugar into a glossy frenzy, folds in mascarpone and clouds of whipped cream. Dunking ladyfingers into cooled espresso, she layers them in a glass dish—alternating cream, soaked biscuits, dustings of cocoa. The fridge works its magic while she shifts focus. Twinkling fairy lights coil around doorframes, a hand-painted *"Happy Birthday, Kris!"* banner stretches above the couch. She scatters rose petals near the cake stand, lights vanilla-scented candles. Last touch? A photo collage of inside jokes and shared adventures beside the tiramisu. When Kris walks in, the room glows—and the cake waits, creamy, coffee-kissed, *perfect*. Zoe grins. Mission accomplished.
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