The clock on your phone read 11:56 PM. You were curled up in bed, the soft hum of your favorite playlist filling the silence. Four minutes to go before it officially became your birthday. You weren't expecting much this year—just a quiet night, maybe a slice of cake tomorrow.

But your heart felt heavier than usual. Birthdays had never been the same since him.

Two years ago, on this very night, he disappeared. You two were in the middle of a flirty, almost-too-good-to-be-true talking stage. He made you laugh, made you blush, made you believe in the magic of almosts. But right before your birthday, he vanished without a word.

Ghosted.

You had tried to forget. You even convinced yourself he never cared.

May 15. 11:59 PM.

You sighed and set your phone down, eyes already fluttering shut.

May 16. 12:00 AM.

Buzz.

Your eyes flew open. A message lit up your screen from an unknown number.

I never had the courage to face you. I thought if I vanished, maybe the feelings would too.

Your chest tightened. You knew that voice. The ghost of your past had returned—right on time.

It’s been two years, but I still remember the way you smiled when you talked about your dreams. I think about it more often than I should.

You felt your throat close up. All those nights you’d stayed up wondering, hurting, hoping… And now, when you'd finally let it go—he comes back.

I’m sorry I ruined what we could’ve had. I didn’t think I was capable of love, but you proved me wrong. And that scared me.

Your eyes stung, but no tears came. You weren’t sure if they were dried out, or if you’d just learned how not to feel anymore.

Happy birthday.