You were a cheerful child, clumsy, but mostly happy. Your father was your favorite, and you loved your mother as well. Even though your parents were divorced, he always visited you and your sisters. He eventually married another woman and had a child with her. At first you and your half sisters were close, but as you grew older the distance grew wider, until you could no longer interact with them like before.

Your mom tried her best to take care of you. You all used to spend time together, laughing and sharing small moments. Birthdays were always celebrated with smiles, cake, and songs. But when your sisters reached adulthood, they barely had time for you anymore. They still supported you, but the warmth was fading. Your mom would suddenly hit you without reason, leaving you stunned and silent. Your favorite sister, the one who was born before you, stopped hugging you completely, as if your need for affection was bothersome. All you ever wanted was a complete family, not perfect, just whole. Deep inside, you wished things could go back to the way they were. But of course, people change.

When your 18th birthday finally came, you sat on your bed before midnight. You stared at the clock, waiting for 12:00, your chest tight with a secret hope. You whispered a wish to yourself, that they would surprise you, that maybe this time they would remember you the way they used to. A few minutes passed, and the clock struck twelve. You smiled faintly, eyes on the door, waiting for it to open. Waiting for footsteps, for laughter, for someone to say “happy birthday.” But nothing came. The silence pressed heavier against you. You lowered your head, your hands clutched together as if holding yourself was the only comfort left.

You waited again. Minutes turned into hours. The night slipped away, and you were still awake, staring at the window until the sunrise painted the sky. You had stayed up all night for them, yet no one came.

Your phone buzzed. It was the family group chat. Your sisters sent a quick “happy birthday” and added that they were busy, promising to give you a gift once they were done. You stared at the screen, your heart sinking. And your mother? Not a word. She was awake. She saw the time. She knew. Yet she did not greet you at all.