By daily 
I got dressed and headed downstairs. The house was quiet, just the hum of everyday life. Mom was sipping her coffee, flipping through a magazine. Dad was in the garage, tinkering with something. My little brother was already glued to his video games. No one said anything.
I lingered in the kitchen for a moment, hoping someone would notice. My heart gave a little flutter every time they looked my way, but all I got were casual nods and routine greetings.
“Morning,” I said, trying to catch their attention, hoping for even a flicker of realization.
“Morning,” mom replied, without glancing up. Dad waved from the doorway, and my brother didn’t even move.
I poured myself a bowl of cereal, feeling a bit silly. It wasn’t like I needed a big celebration or balloons. Just a simple “Happy Birthday” would have been enough. I kept waiting, holding on to the hope that maybe someone would remember before the day slipped away.