Altsin’s eyelashes trembled slightly, and he seemed momentarily lost in thought.

Her birthday was coming up?

Seeing her son visibly stunned, Stella’s expression immediately darkened. Her delicate brows arched sharply as she delivered a stern scolding.

“You can’t even remember Chelsea’s birthday? Is this your idea of sincerity? Are you even trying?”

Altsin pressed his thin lips into a tight line.

Stella continued her tirade, “You men, always proclaiming your so-called love, but it’s all just self-delusion. Love isn’t about words; it’s about actions. Without action, you’ll never win back a dead heart—not in eight hundred years.”

Lowering his gaze, Altsin’s voice was hoarse. “I understand. I’ll prepare a birthday...