By daily 
The cake I’d bought myself sat untouched on the counter. I had thought maybe I’d share it with someone later, but now, it felt like a hollow gesture. The loneliness weighed heavier with each passing hour. I scrolled through my contacts, resisting the urge to send out a hint—something like, “Guess what day it is?” But I didn’t want to seem desperate.
The day dragged on, and a sadness settled over me, thick like a blanket. I had imagined today going differently. I hadn’t expected a grand celebration, but this? This felt like I didn’t matter, like my existence had slipped quietly under everyone’s radar.
Evening arrived, and I finally allowed myself a slice of cake. It was delicious, but bittersweet—literally and figuratively. I stared at the little candle I’d lit, the flickering flame casting a soft glow in the otherwise silent room. I blew it out, making a wish that tomorrow would feel a little less lonely than today.
Just as I was getting ready to head to bed, my phone buzzed. My heart leapt. I picked it up, and there it was—one lone message: “Hey! I almost forgot, but happy birthday!”