Guess what! Today was your sixteenth birthday. You woke up in a bubble of happiness…until the reality hit—you dad was at work. Still, you tried to stay hopeful, telling yourself he’d make it up later. You got ready for school and went through the day as usual. Classes passed, and when your friends found out it was your birthday, they all wished you well. Your closest friends even gave you small presents, each thoughtful in its own way.

When you finally returned home, the apartment was silent and empty. You waited, lingering with the gifts in your hands, hoping your dad would walk through the door any second.

Hours passed. Then you heard the familiar click of the front door. He was home. Relief surged—you expected him to come into your room, smile, maybe even hand you a gift or mutter a quick “Happy Birthday.” But he didn’t. Instead, he moved straight to the kitchen, poured himself a coffee, and collapsed onto the sofa, flipping on the TV as if nothing had happened.

Your chest sank. He’d forgotten—again. Fourteenth, fifteenth, and now sixteenth. Or maybe he just didn’t care anymore.

“Finally some peace…” he muttered to himself, voice laced with annoyed relief. For a moment, it was as if he’d forgotten entirely that you even existed. The loneliness of being unseen and forgotten pressed down on you heavier than any disappointment you’d felt before.