Forgotten Birthday

My name is Laura Indy McKenzie.

And today is my twenty-second birthday.

You'd think I'd wake up excited. Maybe expecting a surprise, a cake, a hug, or at least a simple "Happy Birthday."

But no.

For me, birthdays are just ordinary days.

Actually, they're worse than ordinary days.

Because every birthday reminds me of something painful.

Nobody in my family remembers I exist.

Well, almost nobody.

I slowly opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling above my bed.

The room was silent.

No balloons.

No decorations.

No gifts.

No birthday wishes.

I let out a small laugh.

"Happy birthday to me," I whispered sarcastically.

The words felt empty.

Still, I wasn't surprised.

After twenty-two years of disappointment, you learn not to expect much.

I sat up and reached for my phone on the bedside table.

The screen lit up.

No messages.

No missed calls.

Nothing.

My chest tightened.

Not even my sisters.

Not even my mother.

Then again, why was I expecting anything different?

To them, I wasn't family.

I was a burden.

A mistake.

A stain they wished would disappear.

I placed the phone down and sighed.

At least one person would remember.

My father.

The only person in this house who ever made me feel loved.

The only person who treated me like I mattered.

The only person who looked at me and saw a daughter instead of a problem.

My dad, Giovanni McKenzie,

Just thinking about him made me smile.

No matter how busy he was, he always found time for me.

He never forgot my birthday.

Never.

Every year, he was the first person to wish me well.

Every year, he made me feel special.

And every year, he tried to make up for the love everyone else refused to give me.

A knock suddenly interrupted my thoughts.

I looked toward the door.

Nobody entered.

Then my phone vibrated.

I grabbed it immediately.

The moment I saw the caller ID, my face lit up.

"Dad."

I answered instantly.

"Good morning, Princess."

His warm voice filled my ears.

And just like that, the sadness inside me eased.

"Good morning, Dad."

"Happy birthday, sweetheart."

I closed my eyes.

There it was.

The only birthday wish I would probably receive today.

And somehow, hearing it from him was enough.

"Thank you, Dad."

"You sound emotional."

I laughed softly.

"Do I?"

"You do."

"I'm okay."

There was a brief silence.

My father knew me too well.

"Did anyone remember?" he asked carefully.

I swallowed.

"No."

Another silence followed.

This one heavier.

"I see."

"It's okay."

"No, Laura. It isn't okay."

His voice became firm.

"You deserve better."

A lump formed in my throat.

"Dad..."

"You are my daughter, and I'm proud of you. Never forget that."

Tears burned behind my eyes.

"I won't."

"I left your gift on my desk before I went to work."

My eyes widened.

"You got me something?"

"Of course I did."

I smiled.

"You didn't have to."

"I wanted to."

His voice softened.

"Now promise me something."

"What?"

"Don't let anyone ruin your day."

I laughed bitterly.

"That's a little difficult in this house."

"I know."

"But promise me anyway."

I hesitated.

Then nodded even though he couldn't see me.

"I promise."

"That's my girl."

A few more minutes passed before he had to leave.

As soon as the call ended, reality came crashing back.

Because unlike Dad...

The rest of my family hated me.

Especially my mother.

Sometimes I wondered if she was really my mother.

What kind of mother looks at her daughter with disgust?

What kind of mother treats one child like garbage while showering the others with love?

My sisters, Linda and Elina, often joked that I was adopted.

Growing up, I actually believed them.

Why else would my mother despise me so much?

I had asked Dad once.

I still remembered that conversation clearly.

"Dad?"

"Yes, Princess?"

"Am I adopted?"

The expression on his face had changed instantly.

He looked shocked.

"Honey, why would you ask that?"

"Linda and Elina said Mom found me in a trash can."

His eyes filled with sadness.

Then he pulled me into his arms.

"My darling."

His voice cracked slightly.

"Listen to me carefully."

I looked up at him.

"You are my daughter."

"But—"

"No."

He gently held my face.

"You are my daughter, and nothing in this world will ever change that."

"Really?"

"Really."

I remember believing him completely.

Because Dad never lied to me.

Never.

Unfortunately, his love wasn't enough to protect me from the rest of the family.

A loud scream suddenly echoed through the house.

"LAURA!"

I jumped.

Oh no.

They're awake.

I glanced at the clock.

My eyes widened.

Crap.

Breakfast wasn't ready.

"LAURA!" another voice shouted.

I scrambled out of bed.

"I'm coming!"

The moment I rushed downstairs, I found my younger sisters standing in the kitchen.

Linda folded her arms.

Elina glared at me.

Both looked annoyed.

Correction.

They always looked annoyed when they saw me.

Linda checked her watch dramatically.

"Are you serious right now?"

"I'm sorry—"

"Breakfast isn't even ready!"

"I overslept."

"Obviously!"

Elina rolled her eyes.

"God, you're so useless."

I bit my tongue.

Not today.

Please.

Not today.

"I'm making it now."

"You should've done it already."

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't fix anything."

Elina slammed her hand against the counter.

"Do you know what time it is?"

"I know."

"No, clearly you don't."

She pointed toward the clock.

"We're going to be late because of you."

I lowered my gaze.

"I'm sorry."

"That's all you ever say."

"Elina—"

"No."

She cut me off immediately.

"If I get detention today, I'm telling Mom everything."

My stomach dropped.

Of course she would.

And Mom would automatically believe her.

"Please don't."

Elina smirked.

"Then stop being useless."

I clenched my fists.

Sometimes I wanted to scream.

Sometimes I wanted to tell them exactly how I felt.

But I never did.

Because arguing only made things worse.

Much worse.

So I simply nodded.

"It won't happen again."

"It better not."

Linda finally spoke.

"You know, normal sisters help each other."

I almost laughed.

The irony.

"Really?" I asked quietly.

"Yes."

She tossed her hair over her shoulder.

"Too bad you're not a normal sister."

That one hurt.

More than I wanted to admit.

But before I could respond, Elina suddenly frowned.

"Laura."

"What?"

"Where are my shoes?"

I blinked.

"What?"

"My shoes."

She crossed her arms.

"Where did you put them?"

"I didn't touch your shoes."

"Liar."

"I didn't."

"Then where are they?"

"How would I know?"

Linda suddenly gasped.

"Oh my God."

"What now?" I asked.

"I can't find my bra."

I stared at her.

"Okay."

"Did you move it?"

"Why would I move your bra?"

"Because you move everything."

"I literally don't."

"Laura!"

"Elina!"

"Laura!"

"Linda!"

Both of them started shouting at once.

My head began to pound.

This couldn't be real.

I was being interrogated over shoes and bras.

On my birthday.

Fantastic.

Absolutely fantastic.

"I'm coming!" I yelled.

For the next twenty minutes, I searched the entire house.

I found Elina's shoes under her bed.

Exactly where she left them.

And Linda's missing bra?

Inside her laundry basket.

Where it belonged.

Neither of them apologized.

Not that I expected them to.

After all, in this house, everything was always my fault.

By the time breakfast was finally served, both girls were already complaining again.

"The eggs are cold."

"The toast is burnt."

"The juice isn't cold enough."

I forced a smile.

"Anything else?"

Elina narrowed her eyes.

"Are you being sarcastic?"

"No."

"Good."

I turned away before I said something I'd regret.

As they ate, I glanced at the clock.

School.

I was definitely going to be late.

Again.

I grabbed my backpack and headed toward the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Linda asked.

"School."

"The dishes aren't done."

I froze.

Of course.

The dishes.

I slowly looked back.

There was a mountain of dirty plates waiting for me.

I closed my eyes.

Count to five, Laura.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Then I forced another smile.

"Right."

As I walked toward the sink, one painful thought echoed through my mind.

Twenty-two years old.

And still treated like Cinderella.

Only Cinderella eventually got her happy ending.

I wasn't so sure mine would ever come.

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