On my birthday, I invited all my closest friends, but no one came, and when I found out why, I was horrified 😢😢 I never thought my 35th birthday would turn out to be the worst day of my life. Usually, I don’t make a big deal about this day, but this time, I wanted warmth, comfort, and company. I decided to celebrate at home: set the table, prepare my favorite dishes, invite my closest friends—people with whom I’ve been through fire, water, and sleepless nights.
We had agreed to meet at my house at 6:00. I spent the day on my feet—buying fresh produce, marinating meat, making soup, baking a pie, setting a beautiful table. Everything seemed perfect: candles, music, glasses, napkins, cutlery. I even had a slight, pleasant jitters, like before a first date. At six o’clock sharp, I was already at the window, looking out at the road. Silence. No one. “They’re late,” I thought as I poured myself a glass of wine. I knew some of them were often late. It was normal. I waited a little longer. Half an hour passed.
No one. I began to feel anxious. Minute by minute, it was getting heavier. I checked my phone—no messages, no calls. I wrote in the group chat, “Where are you?” Silence. Nothing. Thoughts began to form in my head: “What if they forgot?” “Maybe they got the day mixed up?” “Maybe I did or said something wrong?” I felt a lump in my throat with every sip of wine. It was painful. One by one, I called their numbers—no one answered. No one. An hour passed.
Then another. I was sitting at the laid table, facing empty plates, looking at them as if they could give me an answer. Suddenly, I felt small and useless. Over the cheerful music still playing from the speakers, I felt like I was the victim of a cruel joke. At 10:00 p.m., I got up. Silently. I started putting the dishes away. Still hoping someone would come in and shout, “Surprise! We were just joking!” But it didn’t happen. Then I found out why no one had come, and I was simply horrified 😢😢 Continued in the first comment 👇👇 I was about to go to bed when a message arrived from my sister:
“Did you see the news? Sorry, I didn’t know how to tell you… There’s been an accident. Their car… they were on their way to your house.” I stood there frozen. I went online. The first headlines in the news feed: “Collision on the highway… three dead…” Then everything blurred before my eyes. It was them. My friends. They were really coming to my house. In the same car. That night, I didn’t cry anymore—I just sat in the dark listening to the water dripping from the faucet. The wine remained untouched. And I didn’t put the plates away again. I looked at them as a last attempt to bring everyone together. And I, selfish as I was, thought they had forgotten and never considered that something serious had happened to them.
