Sidney hurriedly cleaned the table to make it easier for the butler to serve the dishes. After quickly eating dinner and clearing the plates, she started mixing flour and eggs again. She asked the butler for a cake pan, thinking that if one wasn't available, she could just wrap it in some aluminum foil. The butler rummaged through the storage room and found a small pan. Sidney, recalling the recipe, baked a six-inch egg cake. Making an egg cake wasn't difficult for Sidney; back in high school, her club had made one together, and her memory was always sharp. Even without the recipe, she could still make it. After letting the freshly baked cake cool, she placed it in the fridge and asked the butler to pick up a few more items for her when she went out the next day.
The butler didn't ask any more questions, just nodded and got busy with her own tasks. After Sidney went upstairs and took a shower, she noticed her phone flashing on the bed. She opened it to find a "Happy Birthday" message from Alondra. She replied with a "Thank you" and a smiley face, then opened the bedroom window. The weather had cooled, and a light breeze brushed against her face. The sky was nearly starless, with only a blinking airplane moving across the sky. She gazed at the faint, waning crescent moon, its pale light barely cutting through the dark sky. Her damp hair hung loosely, water droplets tracing down her neck and shoulders, sending a chill through her. She shivered, hastily closing the window, then reached for the hair dryer, eager to warm herself as she began drying her hair.
As the clock struck midnight, she switched off the lights and, with a quiet swipe of her phone, activated the flashlight. She sat on the edge of the bed, the room plunged into near-darkness. The only source of light was the faint glow from the city outside the floor-to-ceiling window, casting soft, broken patterns of the glass frames onto the wooden floor. In the silence, her own long shadow stretched across the room, hauntingly still. She adjusted her hair and stared at the shadow for a while before raising her hand to wave at it, then gently letting it drop. She whispered, "Happy Birthday," and then slid down onto the floor, hugging her legs. She swayed back and forth gently, humming the melody of a song, finally singing out, "Happy Birthday, I say to myself, the candles are lit, and loneliness shines..." She continued humming the tune, "Wishing myself... Happy Birthday."
"Happy Birthday" is like a scripted line—people, whether they know you or not, will easily say it when they know it's your birthday. But no one knows how difficult it is for her to hear a simple "Happy Birthday." Even Alondra dared not wish her on her actual birthday, deliberately choosing to say it the day before. As for the rest of the Calderon family, no one cared about what day it was. At best, they might remember, but they would only think of today as an unlucky day.
Because her mother left her on this day, leaving the eleven-year-old to face this cruel world alone.
She turned off her phone's light, making the room even darker. After a moment of silence, she spoke to the window: "Mom, today is my birthday. You promised to take me for fried chicken, but I still haven't had it… You said you would buy me a big cake, and I've been waiting for you to get it for me… I'm twenty-four now… This is the thirteenth year since you left… I'm almost forgetting what you look like, Mom… Are you there?"
She asked softly to the window, as if afraid of scaring someone away.
In the end, there was nothing but the faint whisper of the wind, a soft murmur that barely disturbed the stillness. The room was silent, as if the world outside had fallen away, leaving only the heavy, almost suffocating quiet that enveloped her. Not a single sound stirred—no ticking clocks, no distant voices—just an unbroken, all-consuming silence.
She hugged herself tightly, repeatedly singing the out-of-tune "Happy Birthday to me." Only that night did she dare to sleep with the lights off, because she hoped to dream of her.
