After all that, I’m supposed to sit here pretending everything’s fine and smiling? No thanks, celebrate without me!” — with that, Natalie slammed the door.

Dear Diary,

After those words, am I supposed to sit here, put on a brave face and smile? Nolet the celebration go on without me! With that, I slammed the bedroom door.

I awoke this morning far earlier than usual. Even with my eyes shut I remembered: today I turn forty. That number once seemed distant, almost unattainable. Now I meet it every day in the mirrorfine lines at the corners of my eyes, a trace of fatigue in my gaze.

Beside me, Stephen breathed calmly. He didnt stir when I slipped out from under the covers. He slept soundly, his interest in me dwindling year by year. I glanced at the clock: 5:30am. Theres still a lot to do before the guests arrive.

I closed the bedroom door gently and headed for the kitchen. This flat was meant to be the meeting point of two worlds todaymy family and Stephens friends. After all these years, Ive never felt a true sense of unity between them. My old girlfriends have long vanished into everyday life, while Stephens crowd remains unchanged: the same faces, the same topics.

I brewed coffee and opened the fridge. The night before I had been up late preparing: marinated meat, sliced vegetables, all the bits for salads. Now everything had to be turned into a celebratory spread. Usually wed order in or go out, but this was a milestone. I craved the warmth of home, something personal.

Mom, do you have two hundred pounds? called a voice from the hallway.

Sixteenyearold Jamie stood there, disheveled but already in jeans and a Tshirt.

Where are you off to so early? I asked, pulling a note from my wallet.

We were planning a bike ride with the lads. Early, so we dont overheat. Ill be back in the evening for the party, he replied.

Jamie, do you remember what today is? I asked.

He thought for a moment, then gave a sheepish smile. Of course, its your birthday. I just didnt want to wake you up earlythought Id wish you later.

Would you stay and help me? Theres so much to do

He hesitated. Mum, we agreed earlier. Ill be back in time. Isnt Polly coming to help?

Shes still at the cottage with a friend. She should be back before six.

Right you always manage better than anyone, he shrugged.

I sighed. I used to be proud that everything rested on me, but now it just wears me down.

Go then, but be home on time, I said.

Jamie planted a quick kiss on my cheek and vanished. Within seconds the front door slammed shut.

By nine oclock I was fully immersed in the preparations. The oven was heating for the roast, the veg waited to be diced, the cheesecake batter rested under a towel. The air was filled with the scent of fresh coffee and spices.

Good morning, Stephen called as he shuffled into the kitchen in wellworn trainers. What are you up to this early?

How do you think? I answered, keeping my tone steady. Guests are due at six. Its a mountain of work.

You could have slept a bit longer. It is your day, after all. He poured himself a coffee. Happy birthday, by the way.

He leaned in, brushed my cheek with a mintscented aftershave.

Thanks, I said, longing for a small gesture, a gift, or at least a question: What can I do?

Instead Stephen plopped down at the table, scrolling through his phone.

Are you not working today? I asked while cracking eggs.

No, its a day off. Sometimes you have to stay home and get things done

Great. Then could you help set the table?

Sure, as soon as I finish the news, he muttered without looking up.

Three hours later Stephen drifted into the living room, his attention captured by a football match he narrated with animated commentary.

Meanwhile I kept chopping, mixing, beating, and baking, thinking, Forty years. This is how Im spending it

Exactly at three, the doorbell rang. I wiped my hands on a towel and went to answer it. My younger sister Olive stood on the threshold holding a bouquet of red carnations.

Happy birthday, love! Olive said, hugging me with one arm. Im a bit early, thought Id lend a hand. Still cooking?

Ive been on my feet since dawn, I replied, inviting her in. Were expecting guests at six, but Im glad youre here.

Wheres the fancy outfit? Olive glanced at my plain tee and faded jeans.

What outfit? I sighed, waving a hand. The salads arent finished, the cake isnt decorated, the table isnt set

Got it, Olive said, eyes scanning the kitchen. She assessed the scale of the disaster, then turned toward the hallway. And Stephen? Is he clueless?

He is busy.

From the living room came a annoyed voice: What are you doing, you uselessgo help!

Fine, Olive muttered. Ill free him.

She marched into the living room. I heard her talking energetically with Stephen, but didnt eavesdrop. Soon Stephen emerged, his face clouded.

Whats needed? he growled.

Could you set the table in the sitting room? I said quietly. Olive, could you help him with the dishes, please?

The next few hours passed without major arguments. Under Olives firm direction, Stephen complied, occasionally disappearing into the TV, but generally getting things done. By fivethirty the main tasks were completed. My shoulders ached, my legs throbbed, and the evenings celebration still lay ahead.

Go change, Olive urged, nudging me gently. Ive got this.

I slipped into the bedroom. In the wardrobe hung a new darkblue dress Id bought for the occasionelegant, with a nice neckline. Yet I lacked the energy or desire for makeup or an elaborate hairstyle. I pulled out the usual black work dress, refreshed my face, swiped a bit of colour on my lips, and returned to the kitchen just as the doorbell rang.

By six the flat was buzzing with people. Parents, longtime friends of the couple, Stephens colleagues, and children. Polly arrived with a fashionable cake from a wellknown patisserie, and Jamie brought a card hed apparently bought on the way home.

I greeted the guests with a strained smile. My head throbbed; even a quick trip to the bathroom for a pill was impossibleeveryone kept asking for something. Then Stephen suddenly perked up: laughing, joking, pouring drinks generously, and repeatedly hugging me whenever someone raised a toast in my honor.

Finally everyone sat down. I served the main dishroast beef, my signature, reliably good.

Nat, maybe we dont need so many salads, Stephen murmured as I ladled out the potato salad. Theres already enough mayo. Lately youre

He didnt finish, but the brief glance at my waist said more than any words. My cheeks flushed. Olive, sitting nearby, gave him a quick look.

The meat turned out a bit dry, Stephen announced loudly, cutting a slice. Probably overcooked.

Its perfect, my motherinlaw interjected.

Im not being mean, Stephen raised his hands. Just last time it was juicier.

I said nothing, chewing silently, staring at my plate. What should have been a cozy evening morphing into another humiliation, witnessed by all.

One toast after another followed. Some wished career success, others youth and beauty. Parents prayed for health and patience. Eventually Stephen rose, glass in hand, and addressed the room:

I want to wish my wife a happy fortieth. This age is serious, but Nat is handling it like a champ. For her age, shes still very much alive.

A nervous chuckle rippled through the guests.

though she could probably spend a bit more time caring for herself, he added, his smile smug. But we love you anyway. To you, love!

Silence fell. Glasses were lifted reluctantly, smiles forced. Most eyes averted; no one wanted to meet mine. I sat frozen, staring at the tablecloth. Something long suppressed rose from deep within.

I stood slowly.

Thank you for the wishes, I said quietly, and walked out of the room.

In the hallway, murmurs turned into the usual background chatter. No one followed menot even Stephen.

I stood before the mirror. In the reflection was a tired woman: dull eyes, disheveled hair, a plainly ordinary look. When did I stop being myself? How had I allowed this?

In what felt like another world I opened the wardrobe and retrieved that same darkblue dress Id saved for tonight. I slipped it on, adjusted the neckline, dusted off the earrings Stephen had given me when his words still sounded loving, not reproachful.

From a shelf I pulled my old heelsthe ones I wore on my wedding day. They still fit perfectly.

I grabbed my phone and dialed a familiar number.

Hey, its me. Its my birthday I know its sudden, but could we meet? I dont want to be alone tonight. How about The Palermo in Covent Garden in half an hour? I heard a brief affirmation. Great, Ill book a table.

I ended the call, looked once more into the mirror. This time the woman staring back was differentstraight back, clear eyes, a faint smile. Confidence was returning.

When I stepped back into the living room, everyone fell silent. All eyes turned to me. Stephen stared, surprised.

Whoa, now thats a transformation! he exclaimed. Now thats a proper birthday look. Why didnt you change earlier? Come on, join us!

For the first time all day I smiled genuinely.

No, Stephen, Im not staying, I said.

What?! he blurted, baffled. Why?

After everything thats been said, should I sit here and pretend Im happy? No. Im spending this day my way. A taxi will be here in a few minutes. Im heading to the restaurant with a friend.

What are you talking about? The humiliation? It was a joke! Stephen gestured helplessly toward the crowd, as if seeking their support.

Every joke I began, then stopped. Never mind. Im leaving. Thanks to everyone, have a good evening.

I turned toward the door. Olive caught up with me in the hallway.

Nat, maybe you shouldnt go? she whispered. He didnt mean to hurt you

Olive, I said calmly, looking her straight in the eye, Ive heard those words for sixteen years. Maybe he truly didnt intend it. But Im done tolerating this, especially on my own day.

I hugged her tightly and stepped out.

The stairwell was quiet and cool. As I descended, each step felt like shedding a weight; breathing became easier. The barrier that had kept me trapped was gone. I didnt know what lay aheadperhaps Stephen would finally understand, perhaps not. But at forty, for the first time in a long while, I felt alive.

Outside, the evening air was warm. A taxi waited at the curb. I got in, gave the driver the address, and felt my phone buzz with a missed call from Stephen. I didnt look, just silenced it.

Tonight belonged only to me, and I alone decided how to live it.