She woke up early, heart fluttering with anticipation. Her birthday—finally. She’d picked out the dress weeks ago, soft pink with lace trim, the kind that made her feel like a princess. Balloons were hung, cake was ready, and every hour ticked by with growing excitement. She imagined the moment: he’d walk in, smile wide, arms full of surprises.
But the hours dragged.
Morning turned to afternoon. Afternoon to evening. No call. No knock. Just silence.
She sat by the window, watching shadows stretch across the floor. Her party dress now wrinkled, her smile fading. Friends had sent their wishes, but the one person she waited for—he hadn’t come.
At midnight, her phone buzzed.
“Sorry, I forgot. Been busy. Happy late birthday.”
No explanation. No warmth. Just a card left on the kitchen counter, unsigned, generic. It wasn’t the card that hurt—it was the absence of thought, the lack of presence, the message it carried: You weren’t important enough to remember.
She didn’t cry. Not then. She folded the card, placed it in a drawer, and took off the dress. But something inside her shifted. She realized that love isn’t just about grand gestures—it’s about showing up. About remembering. About making someone feel seen.
And in that quiet moment, she made a promise to herself: never again would she wait for someone who forgets her worth.
