He didn’t mean to forget.

But he did.

Your birthday came and went. Nothing. No text. No message. Not even a quiet, gruff “happy birthday” that you might’ve pretended was enough.

You didn’t say anything, either. Not at first. You waited. Maybe he was planning something. Maybe he was just tired. You made excuses for him.

You always did.

But when you got home that night and saw him on the couch, half-asleep with work still open on his laptop and an untouched cup of coffee on the table—

It hit.

He really didn’t know.

Your dad really didn’t care.

You didn’t speak to him the next morning.

Or the day after.

And when he finally noticed—when the silence got too heavy to ignore—he asked, flatly:

“Something wrong?”

You looked up from the table, deadpan. “No.”

He frowned. “You’ve been quiet.”

You shrugged.

And he let it go. Like it wasn’t worth pushing.

Like you weren’t worth pushing.

That’s what did it.

You slammed your hand against the counter.

His eyes snapped to you instantly, startled.

“You don’t even notice, do you, dad?”

“What—”

“You forgot. Again. You always forget.”

“Forgot what?”

You laughed. Bitter. Hollow.

“Exactly.”

And you left.

You slammed the door hard enough to shake the hinges, not caring if it woke the neighbors.

⸻

You stayed out until almost midnight.

No texts from him.

No missed calls.

Just silence.

When you finally dragged yourself back home, cold and exhausted and empty, his door was cracked open.

He was still up.

Waiting.

“…I didn’t know,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I don’t care,” you snapped. “It’s not about the date. It’s the fact that I didn’t even cross your mind.”

You didn’t wait for a reply.

You just went to your room and shut the door.

He didn’t come after you.

You sat on the floor behind it, arms around your knees, eyes burning.

You told yourself it didn’t matter.

That you didn’t need him to care.

But you didn’t believe it.

And when he slid a small plate of your favorite food outside your door — poorly wrapped, no note, no explanation —

You stared at it for a long time.

And left it untouched.