At 11:55 PM, Anaya stopped checking her phone.
Nobody had remembered.
Not her college friends.
Not her coworkers.
Not even her brother.
Her birthday would end in five minutes.
She switched off the lights and climbed into bed.
At 11:58, the doorbell rang.
Annoyed, she opened the door.
Nobody was there.
Only a small cake sat on the floor.
Written in icing:
Happy Birthday, Anaya.
She looked down the hallway.
Empty.
There was a note beneath the box.
Roof.
Anaya climbed upstairs.
The rooftop was dark.
Then suddenly, dozens of fairy lights turned on.
Her brother stepped out from behind the water tank.
Her friends followed.
Then her coworkers.
Everyone shouted:
“Happy birthday!”
Anaya stared at them.
“I hate all of you.”
Her brother laughed.
“We know.”
She started crying anyway.
Later, after everyone left, she found one final card attached to the cake box.
It was written in her father’s handwriting.
Her father had died six months earlier.
Her hands shook as she opened it.
Dear Anaya,
Your brother promised me he would give you this on your next birthday.
I don’t know where life will take you, but please never measure your importance by how many people remember a date.
You were important before anyone wished you.
You will be important after everyone forgets.
Happy birthday, my little star.
Anaya read it three times.
That night, the birthday she had thought everyone forgot became the one she remembered forever.