I never thought that my 35th birthday would be the most terrible day of my life. Usually, I didn’t make a big deal out of this day, but this time I wanted warmth, comfort, and communication. I decided to celebrate at home: set the table, cooked my signature dishes, invited my closest friends — people with whom I’d been through fire, water, and sleepless nights.
We agreed to meet at my place at six.
All day, I was buzzing with excitement. The table looked beautiful — delicate candles flickered softly, a warm scent of cinnamon and rosemary filled the room, and music hummed in the background like a heartbeat. Everything was ready. I stood by the window, my heart full of anticipation.
Six o’clock.
Silence.
“They’re just late,” I told myself, sipping some wine. But by 6:45, the optimism began to crack. By 7:30, I was checking my phone constantly. Nothing. No calls. No texts. I sent a message in our group chat:
“Where are you guys? Everything’s ready ”
Seen by no one.
By 8:15, I had called each of them. One by one. No answer.
I felt invisible.
I sat in front of the plates, facing the cruel emptiness. The cake I made — lemon and lavender, Sarah’s favorite — sat untouched. The music kept playing as if mocking me. By 10 PM, I was washing dishes in silence, no longer hoping for footsteps or laughter at the door.
Then, around midnight, my phone buzzed. A message — from Mia, my oldest friend.
“Hey. I didn’t know how to tell you. I thought maybe someone else would. I just… I’m so sorry.”
My hands froze. I messaged back immediately.
“Tell me what?”
No answer. I clicked her profile. Scrolled.
And then I saw it — a tagged post from hours ago. A video.
My friends. All of them. Laughing, drinking, gathered around a huge bonfire at Rachel’s country house. The caption read:
“Rachel’s big night! The one and only! #surpriseengagementparty”
I blinked.
Rachel had gotten engaged. And thrown a party — on my birthday. The very friends I’d invited… had all been there.
No one had told me. No one had even mentioned it.
I scrolled further. Then I saw a message thread from two weeks ago, between Mia and Rachel — accidentally forwarded to me by Mia. I opened it.
Rachel: “Tbh, if she finds out, I’ll just say it slipped my mind. She’s always been kind of clingy. It’s my moment. She’ll understand. Or not.”
Mia: “Should we just lie and say we had something come up?”
I read the words again and again, until they blurred.
They hadn’t forgotten me.
They’d excluded me.
On purpose.
And that, somehow, was worse.