#stillwells

Wells said he was not making a big deal out of it.

That was clearly untrue.

There were black-and-gold balloons, a cake with metallic icing, a lit number 1 candle, and Wells standing beside it shirtless in shiny metallic gold compression tights like the anniversary had personally requested a fitness calendar shoot.

“One year,” Wells said, leaning over the cake with a smug little smile. “That deserves recognition.”

Nobody argued.

Mostly because he was already posing.

One year in the Golden Army had built muscle, discipline, confidence, and an alarming ability to turn any room into a celebration of Wells 58. The Gold had sharpened him. Strengthened him. Made him louder, steadier, shinier, and somehow even more convinced that good lighting counted as team support.

He bent forward and blew out the candle.

For a second, the room went quiet.

Then the smoke curled upward, the gold tights caught the light, and Wells looked back over his shoulder like he knew exactly what kind of anniversary image this was going to become.

One year strong.

Still shining.

Still Wells.

And absolutely impossible to ignore.