For three years, Audrey’s parents claimed they couldn’t afford her birthday presents, while her younger sister received $50 every year. The day after her 17th birthday, Audrey attended a family celebration with a cake and learned a shocking secret that changed everything.
I stared at my phone. Mum’s message was short and succinct:
“We can’t afford to give you a present this year. Sorry, darling.”
I didn’t cry. To be honest, I wasn’t even surprised. It had been like that for three years now. No gifts for me, no special treatment. But my sister, Lily? She always gets something. Every year on her birthday, they give her $50, like it’s no big deal. And me? I get texts.
I remember when it started. On my 15th birthday, my mum and dad told me they couldn’t afford to get me anything because things were tight.
I understood then, but it hurt even more when Lily’s birthday came two months later and they somehow found money for her. They smiled and laughed and pretended everything was fine.
But something wasn’t right. It wasn’t just the presents. It was about everything. When I tried to talk to them, they brushed me off. I tried to join them in the living room, but they just focused on Lily. And it was like that every time. I kept thinking maybe I did something wrong, but I never realised what it was.
The only people who really cared about me were my grandparents. They always gave me little gifts and invited me to visit on my birthdays.
But this year…that was it. This was the year I couldn’t take it anymore. I wasn’t mad about the presents. I just wanted them to see me.
My birthday was yesterday. No cake, no presents, not even a card. Mum and Dad were ‘busy’ again. I spent the evening at my parents’ house alone, watching Lily get ready for her birthday today. She’s turning 14 years old. She didn’t even say anything about my birthday. To her, it was a day like any other.
This morning I got another text from my mum.
“We’ll be home at three. Bring that cake you usually bake.”
Oh yeah, here’s another thing. Every year on the day after my birthday, I bake a chocolate cake. I bring it to my parents’ house, and we all pretend it’s for Lily. But it’s the only way I can feel like I’m part of something.
I sighed, looking at the half-finished cake on the table. The kitchen smelled like cocoa and vanilla. I wasn’t even sure why I was still doing this, but old habits die hard, I guess. Part of me wanted to just throw the cake away and not go back to it. But the other part of me – the part of me that was still hoping for something different – kept going.
‘I don’t need presents,’ I whispered to myself as I spread the icing. ‘I just need them to care.’
That’s all I ever wanted. Not money, not things. I wanted their attention, their love. I wanted them to ask me how my day was, if I was okay. I wanted to feel like I mattered.
I looked at the cake and it felt like a metaphor for my life. Something I had put so much effort into, but for what? Would anyone notice?
By the time I was done, I was exhausted. Physically and emotionally. The cake stood there, perfect and untouched, and I stood there, torn between anger and sadness.
I got a phone call from Lily. “Hi, Mum said we’ll be eating around four, so don’t be late. And bring that cake. She’s been talking about it all morning.”
I bit my lip. ‘Sure.’
Then she hung up, just like that. Typical.
I wasn’t going to play their games this time. I was going to give them one piece of my cake and eat the rest myself. Let them deal with me on their own since they’d been so dismissive of me all this time.
I looked at the clock. It was half past two. I knew I had to get ready, but all I could think about was what awaited me at my parents’ house. Another round of them fanning Lily and me standing in the background. Another year where my birthday didn’t matter.
I took the cake and carefully placed it in the box. I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was going to be the same as previous years. But perhaps I was wrong.
As I was about to leave, I tried to push away the familiar ache in my chest. The house was quiet, almost too quiet. I put on my shoes, picked up the cake, and took a deep breath.
‘You can do it,’ I whispered.
I wanted to believe it. I really wanted to. But as I walked out the door and headed for the bus stop, I wasn’t so sure anymore.
When I pulled up to my parents’ house, the driveway was full. Grandma and Grandpa’s car was there too. My heart raced as I stepped out of the house with a cake in my hands. The smell of chocolate filled the air as I took a deep breath and walked to the door.
I knocked softly and walked in. The house was unusually quiet for a family gathering. I frowned, expecting to hear laughter or Lily’s voice chattering about her birthday. But when I crossed the threshold into the living room, I almost dropped the cake.
Everyone-mum, dad, Lily, even my grandparents-was standing in front of me, grinning. And they were all wearing T-shirts with my face on them. Above my picture, in bright bold letters, it said, ‘Happy Birthday, Audrey.’
‘What…what is that?’ stammered I muttered.
Mum stepped forward, her eyes shining with a look I hadn’t seen in a long time. ‘Happy birthday, sweetie.’
I blinked. ‘But… it’s Lily’s birthday.’
Lily giggled and shook her head. “Not today, Audrey. Today is about you.”
Emotions came over me all at once. Confusion, shock, a tiny glimmer of hope. I gripped the cake tighter, standing still, not knowing what to say.
Dad walked over and gently took the cake from my hands. ‘Let’s put it down before you drop it,’ he said with a soft chuckle.
I watched him place the cake on the table. My heart was pounding in my chest. “I don’t understand. What’s going on?”
Mum’s face softened. Before she spoke, she glanced at Dad. “Audrey, we owe you an explanation. We’re really sorry we haven’t given you birthday presents for the past few years.”
I felt a lump form in my throat as she continued.
‘We’ve been planning something special for a long time,’ she said, her voice trembling. “We wanted to surprise you in a big way. We thought if we waited, today would be even more meaningful.”
Father nodded. “It’s not that we’ve forgotten you, Audrey. We’ve never forgotten you. We just…we wanted this moment to be perfect.”
I stood there, trying to make sense of everything that was happening. “But…it hurt. It hurt to think that you didn’t care about me. I didn’t need the gifts. I just needed to know you could see me.”
Tears came to Mum’s eyes. “We know, honey. We should have told you sooner. We didn’t realise how much it hurt you.”
I swallowed hard, feeling tears come to my eyes. I didn’t want to cry, but I couldn’t stop. “I just wanted your attention. I wanted to feel like I mattered.”
Dad stepped closer, his voice soft. “You’ve always been important to us. We’re so proud of you, Audrey.”
When those words reached me, I felt the years of hurt and disappointment dissipate. The tension in my chest eased a little, but some part of me still couldn’t shake the pain.
Mum wiped her eyes and smiled softly. ‘We have something for you.’
Dad reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. My hands trembled as I took it from him. Slowly I opened the box and inside was a shiny silver key.
‘Happy birthday, Audrey!’ – they all shouted in one voice.
I stared at the key in bewilderment. ‘Is that… a car?’
Dad smiled proudly. “Yes. It’s parked outside. We wanted to get you something special, something you’ll never forget.”
My heart raced, but I wasn’t thinking about the car. Tears blurred my vision as I looked up at them. ‘Thanks, but…this isn’t the car I want.’
Dad’s smile faltered. ‘What do you mean?’
I rubbed my eyes, my voice shaking. “I just needed to know you loved me. That’s all I wanted.”
Mum stepped forward and hugged me. “Audrey, we love you so much. We’ve always loved you.”
I broke down, hugging her tightly. ‘I just felt so invisible.’
‘You’re not invisible,’ Dad said, joining the hug. ‘We can see you, and we’re sorry you felt that way.’
Lily walked over, her eyes clouded over. “You’re the best, Audrey. I’m sorry I made you feel like a favourite.”
I shook my head, pulling her to me. ‘It’s not your fault.’
The four of us stood there, hugging each other like we hadn’t hugged in years. The pain was still there, but something else was growing in its place. Relief. Love. Forgiveness.
The car was good, of course. But in that moment, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that I finally felt noticed.
