Twelve oh one.
Happy birthday to me.
The words ring hollow, like an echo in an abandoned room.
I don't smile. I don't check my messages or the Instagram tags I know are already rolling in. My friends are probably posting throwbacks, filtered pictures with captions like "birthday queen". My boyfriend, Nuel, has likely sent one of those long voice notes again - he does that for special days, says texting doesn't feel personal enough.
But all I do is open his page.
His. Daniel.
The boy I haven't touched in five years -five years since we broke up- but still carry like a second skin.
I know it's toxic. I know I shouldn't be here. But here I am. Every year, at midnight this day, I become this version of myself that I hate. A version that forgets logic, boundaries, and the beautiful, stable love I have now. A version that still bleeds for a love that's long dead - but never buried.
His profile loads
The first thing I see is a photo collage. Him and her. Arms wrapped around each other. Their foreheads pressed together in one, kissing in another. That same dimple I used to kiss when he smiled - it's there, beaming at her like the sun only shines when she's around.
Then the caption.
"Three years with you, and every day feels like a better version of yesterday. You've shown me peace, taught me patience, and filled my life with a love I never knew was possible. Happy anniversary my love. Here's to forever"
Three years with her. And five years since me. Five years since I let go, or tried to.
I read it three times, each word a scalpel across my ribs. I feel sick. My throat burns. And my heart - God, my heart feels like its betraying me.
Because no matter how much time passes, no matter how many steps I take forward, something about Daniel pulls me back. It's not even about him being mine anymore - I know he isn't. But somewhere inside me, I never stopped being his.
What makes it worse -so much worse- is that Daniel and his girlfriend's anniversary falls on the exact same day as my birthday.
He was my first love, my first everything. The first person to see me and make me feel like I mattered more than the world. We were young, but it was deep. Unreasonably so. He made everything else feel irrelevant
We fought like hell. We loved harder.
And I left.
I thought I was being strong, thought space and growth were necessary. I had plans, dreams. He did too. We were supposed to find our way back to each other, but life isn't a damn movie. People move on. He moved on.
And I didn't. Not fully. Not even now - with Nuel.
God, Nuel.
I've been with him for fourteen months now. Almost a year and a half of steady love, patient love. He's good. So, so good. Gentle in ways Daniel never was. Steady, kind. He sends sweet text messages, gifts, remembers the way I like my noodles slightly burnt, listens when I talk about my childhood even if he's heard the stories before.
He loves me. Wholeheartedly. And I love him too.
Just... not like I loved Daniel.
With Nuel, love feels like a warm bath - safe, calming, reassuring. With Daniel, it felt like a wildfire - reckless, consuming, alive.
Sometimes I wonder if something's wrong with me. If I'm broken for holding onto a ghost when I have someone flesh and blood right in front of me, willing to give me the world.
But when I see Daniel in those pictures, when I see him looking at her the same way he used to look at me - something inside me shatters all over again.
I hate her.
No, I don't.
But I want to.
I study her face in every picture. Try to find flaws. Her nose is too sharp, she laughs with her whole mouth open - Daniel used to hate that. Or maybe not anymore. Maybe she taught him a new version of joy. Maybe he changed for her in ways he never could for me.
And still, part of me thinks - if I texted him right now, what would he do?
Would he ignore me? Block me? Would he read it and reply with a single "hey"?
Would he still remember my birthday?
My phone lights up with messages, Nuel's is at the top
"Happy birthday, baby. I hope today makes you smile the way you always make me smile. I'm grateful for every moment I get to love you. I have a surprise planned, be ready by 10am. I love you, always"
I blink. He's a good man. I don't want to lose him, but still I ache for someone else.
It's not fair. Not to me. Not to Nuel. But I don't know how to stop.
I open my camera and snap a picture. My face is bare, my eyes are swollen from tears that didn't fall but sat heavy. The kind of sadness that doesn't spill, only sits
I caption the photo:
"Year twenty two. Still haunted by a love I let go. Still loved by someone I don't deserve."
I don't post it, but I save it. Just like I've saved Daniel. In the quietest part of me. The part I wish I could burn away but never do.
Image was generated using META AI