The Last Birthday I Waited

That was the third time Caroline forgot my birthday.

I didn't make a scene. Instead, I quietly cooked my favorite meal and bought an expensive ice cream cake Id normally skip, treating it as a solitary celebration of a day nobody else seemed to care about.

But when I came out of the shower, ready to finally sit down and enjoy it, I found the dinner I had spent three hours preparing packed away into Tupperware containers. The ice cream cake sitting next to them was a crushed, unrecognizable mess.

Caroline finally noticed me standing there.

Without looking up, she said, "Elliot hasn't eaten all day and his blood sugar is crashing. I'm taking some food over to his place. Don't wait up."

I watched her back as she walked out.

In that exact moment, I knew. I was done waiting for her.

Caroline had barely left when the landlord, Mr. Henderson, knocked on the door.

He glanced inside, looking confused. "Hey, Logan. Your lease is up at the end of the month. Are you guys renewing or moving? I need to know so I can list the place."

Last month, I had asked Caroline about our plans. I wanted to know if we should renew or look for a new place. At the time, she was staring at her phone, typing back to Elliot, completely absorbed.

When she finally looked up, her face carried that familiar, thinly veiled irritation. "Whatever you want. You decide."

Recalling that, I looked at Mr. Henderson and said, "Were not renewing. Well be out by the end of the month."

"As for the security deposit, you can send it back to Caroline. No need to split it."

When we first moved in, she had paid the deposit and the first month's rent. It was only fair she got it back.

The landlord looked bewildered. "But you two are getting married, aren't you? Why keep the finances so separate? Its the same thing whether I give it to you or her."

I offered a faint smile and said nothing.

Satisfied with my answer, he turned to leave, but stopped to add, "Just make sure you clear everything out before you go. Don't leave a mess for the next tenant."

I nodded. "Will do."

Today was the twenty-eighth. I had exactly three days left.

I pulled out my phone and messaged the broker who had helped me find this place.

He replied almost instantly: "Still looking for a three-bedroom? Any specific requirements?"

"Just a two-bedroom. Its only for me."

There was a long silence on the other end.

Then, a simple text: "Did you two break up?"

Seeing those words in print sent a strange chill through me.

When Caroline and I first started dating, the idea of breaking up never even crossed my mind. I used to spend hours daydreaming about our future. Now, I couldn't even remember the last time Id pictured a life with her.

I didn't answer. The broker sent another text: "Do you need movers? I know a reliable local company."

"Yes, please."

"When's the move?"

"Three days from now."

Just in time for the lease to end. And just in time to cut Caroline out of my life completely.

After finalizing the details, I hung up and started packing my things into boxes.

Then, my phone buzzed. It was Caroline.

"Elliot says the food you made is amazing, but his stomach is acting up. Can you whip up a light, clear soup and bring it over?"

Before I could say a word, she added, "No onions. He hates the smell."

I stared at the wall for a long moment. "Caroline," I said, my voice quiet. "Do you know what today is?"

We had been together for five years. She had celebrated my birthday with me exactly twice.

The first time, she took me to Disneyland. At midnight, beneath the exploding fireworks, she gave me a designer watch and told me she loved me.

The second time, I was away on a business trip. She took time off work and flew out to surprise me with a homemade cake. That day, she whispered something sweeter than any icing: "Logan, no matter where you are, if you need me, I'll be there."

But by our third year, she forgot.

She forgot because my birthday, May 30th, happened to be the anniversary of the day she and Elliot met.

As expected, there was no hesitation on her end. "It's the anniversary of the day Elliot and I met. Why?"

Having confirmed exactly what I expected, I hung up on her for the first time in five years.

I didn't feel panicked. I didn't feel hurt. Inside, I was as still as deep water.

I looked at the melting ice cream cake on the counter. The sweet, frozen layers were turning into a sticky, shapeless pool. Just like our relationshiponce seemingly solid, now slowly eroding into nothing.

I set my phone face down and went back to packing.

The next afternoon, Caroline came home. There was a faint trace of guilt in her eyes, her posture softer than usual.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, walking over to me. "I forgot yesterday was your birthday. I know you've been wanting a new car to commute to work, so I went ahead and picked one out today. Consider it your birthday present."

I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, she rushed on: "Actually, Elliot was the one who reminded me. You should thank him next time you see him. He helped pick it out. He said you'd absolutely love it."

So, she hadn't remembered on her own. It took someone else pointing it out. And even the gift meant to apologize to me was chosen by another man.

While I was expected to smile, say it's fine, and accept whatever scraps they threw my way.

Caroline pulled out her phone, scrolling through her photos. "Look, Elliot picked white. It suits you..."

As she swiped to the next photo, my eyes locked onto the screen.

It was a selfie of Elliot. He was sitting in the driver's seat of the new car, flashing a peace sign at the camera.

Noticing my silence, Caroline quickly explained, "Oh, Elliot loves taking selfies. His phone died, so he used mine to snap a few."

I didn't say anything. I just gently took the phone from her hand and swiped backward.

There were three hundred and twenty-three photos in her camera roll. One hundred and twenty of them were of Elliot. Exactly three were of the car.

And that's when it hit me.

Caroline had always claimed she hated taking photos. She hated clutter on her phone. We didn't have a single photo together. She didn't even have my contact saved in her phonebook. It was as if I was a ghost in her life.

When I had asked her about it years ago, she had laughed and hugged me. "I have your number memorized, Logan. I could recite it in my sleep. Why would I need to save it?"

Yet, Elliot was saved in her contacts as Elliot Bear. On every messaging app and social platform, he was pinned to the very top.

I kept scrolling silently.

Caroline didn't stop me. She just leaned against the counter, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "Are you auditing my phone now? Go ahead. See if you can find any scandalous texts..."

Before she could finish, a notification popped up from Elliot Bear:

"Caroline! You can't be biased! You got Logan a car, what about me? Where's mine? Get on it, boss!"

The moment I saw the message, the energy drained out of me. I handed the phone back to her.

Caroline took it, her expression shifting slightly.

I got up from the couch, catching a glimpse of her screen as she typed her reply: "Company cash flow is a bit tight right now. I owe you one."

Elliot didn't like that. He spam-sent dozens of whining, begging emojis.

A flash of hesitation crossed Caroline's face. She looked up at me. "Logan... your office isn't that far from here, right? What if we let Elliot have this car first? I'll get you another one next time."

It was the exact same hesitation shed had last month.

We had planned a movie night. We were standing right outside the theater when Elliot called. He wanted her to go swimming with him.

She had looked at me with that same apologetic, yet determined expression. "Logan, do you mind if we skip the movie tonight? I'll make it up to you next time."

Faced with a choice between me and Elliot, she chose him. Every single time.

"Sure," I said, my voice completely flat. "Whatever you want."

The tension in her shoulders melted away instantly. She let out a soft, relieved sigh. "I knew you'd understand. Elliot is such a handful sometimes. Its exhausting."

She made it sound like a complaint, but her tone was dripping with fond indulgence.

She didn't realize that my "understanding" wasn't maturity. It was apathy. I just didn't care anymore.

"Oh, by the way," she said, pocketing her phone. "Elliot said a new hot pot place opened downtown. He wants to buy us dinner. Let's go."

I was about to refuse, but she added quickly, "He said if we don't go, hes just going to bring the ingredients over and cook here."

I hated the lingering smell of hot pot in the apartment. More than that, I hated the faint scent of jasmine cologne on himthe exact same scent Caroline wore.

So, I found myself sitting across from them at a wooden table in the restaurant.

The waiter came over to take our order.

"Just a mild broth" Caroline started.

"Split pot. Spicy on one side," I interrupted.

She stared at me, surprised. "Since when do you eat spicy food?"

I didn't eat spicy food because she preferred bland meals. I had spent five years changing my palate to match hers.

"I've always liked it," I said, looking down at the menu. "You just never noticed."

I ordered the dishes I actually liked, adding a matcha shaved ice for dessert.

Seeing this, Elliot immediately pointed to the menu. "Oh! I want the mango shaved ice!"

Caroline frowned, slapping his hand away playfully. "Did you forget your stomach issues from last month? No cold things for you."

She crossed the dessert off the list and ordered him a warm sweet corn juice instead.

Elliot didn't look annoyed at all. He just grinned, leaning in. "So what if my stomach hurts? Your hand is better than any medicine anyway. What do I have to fear when you're here?"

I remember when I used to get sick. Caroline had run through a downpour to buy me medicine. When I was curled in pain, her eyes had filled with tears.

She had pressed her warm hand against my cold stomach, her voice trembling. "I wish I could take the pain for you, Logan. I hate seeing you suffer."

Back then, I had felt the same way Elliot did. With her by my side, I could survive anything.

But ever since Elliot moved to the city, those warm hands belonged to someone else.

Watching them banter back and forth, completely lost in their own world, I felt like a ghost haunting my own life.

Just then, a waiter placed a dessert drink with two straws between them.

"Compliments of the house," the waiter smiled. "Today is our owners' tenth anniversary. We're giving out free sharing drinks to all the couples dining with us tonight."

Elliot took it happily, taking a sip. "Wow, this is amazing! Caroline, try some."

He offered her the straw he had just used.

Without a second thought, Caroline leaned down and took a sip from the same straw. "Not bad," she agreed.

A sharp, physical ache bloomed in my chest.

I had prepared myself for their intimacy. I thought seeing it wouldn't hurt anymore. But when it happened right in front of me, it still felt like a needle driving straight into my heart.

"Hey, Logan," Elliot said, offering a bright, innocent smile. "Caroline and I have been like this since we were kids. We share everything. You don't mind, right?"

He looked like a harmless boy, but I didn't miss the sharp glint of triumph in his eyes.

"Of course not," I replied, meeting his gaze evenly. "She told me she views you as a little brother. Why would I mind?"

The smile on Elliot's face froze. "Yeah," he said, his voice tightening. "If there were anything else between us, she wouldn't be with you, right?"

The first time Caroline told me Elliot was "just a brother" was two months after he arrived. It was raining heavily, and he called saying he was terrified of thunderstorms and needed her to come over.

I had blocked the door, stopping her as she tried to leave. "You're a grown woman, and he's a grown man. It's inappropriate. Don't go."

I hated storms too. Whenever it thundered, I used to hold her tight to feel safe. But that night, amidst the howling wind, she pushed me aside without hesitation.

The warmth in her eyes had vanished, replaced by an icy distance. "I view Elliot as a brother, Logan. Only dirty minds see dirty things. Stop making a scene. He needs me."

The second time was when my gastritis flared up. She had promised to take me to the clinic. But on the way, Elliot called, saying he had sprained his ankle walking down the stairs.

She immediately told the driver to turn around.

She didn't see the cold sweat dripping down my face. She didn't hear my voice shaking from the pain. When I finally whispered, "Is he your boyfriend or am I?" she snapped.

"What are you talking about? Elliot is my brother! He's alone in this city. How can I just ignore him? Stop being so paranoid!"

Back at the restaurant table, Caroline didn't correct him. She simply began picking the chili peppers out of his dipping sauce.

I barely tasted my food. Elliot, however, ate heartily under her careful attention.

The next day, the broker found me a perfect place. It was fully furnished and ready for immediate move-in.

On the day our lease expired, I scheduled the movers.

When the landlord saw that I was only packing my own belongings, he sent a text to Caroline: "The lease has officially ended today. Please ensure all belongings are cleared out. Thank you."

I calculated my share of the rent for the days we had stayed this month, and sent it to Caroline via Venmo.

Once my boxes were loaded, I climbed into the front seat of the moving truck.

As we drove through the intersection outside our neighborhood, my phone rang. It was Caroline.

I ignored it.

A second later, a voice message came through. Her voice was sharp with panic.

"Logan, why aren't you answering? Didn't we agree to renew for another year and then talk to the landlord about buying the place? Why is he telling me to move out?"