On her birthday, Janine envisioned a quiet, meaningful evening—one filled with intention, warmth, and a rare moment of being seen. She spent the afternoon preparing a homemade dinner, setting the table with care, lighting candles, and even playing soft music in the background. It wasn’t about extravagance; it was about acknowledgment, about feeling that she mattered. After years of giving—of remembering Kyle’s favorite meals, his routines, his moods—she hoped, just this once, he might remember her. But when Kyle walked through the door,
loud and laughing with two of his friends in tow, everything inside Janine fell silent. They brought beer, jokes, and loud conversations, completely oblivious to the effort she had put into the evening. He barely glanced at the table she’d set. There was no “Happy Birthday,” no gift, not even a pause. Her heart didn’t break all at once—it simply tipped, slowly, toward resolve. She smiled politely, cleared the plates before anyone could touch them,