After hearing those words, I’m expected to sit here pretending everything’s fine and forcing a smile? No, celebrate without me! — with that, Natalia stormed out, slamming the door.

After saying that, do I really have to sit here, pretend everythings fine, and smile? No, celebrate without me! With those words Helen slammed the bedroom door.

I woke up this morning far earlier than usual. Still halfasleep I remembered today was my fortieth birthday. That number once seemed distant, almost unattainable. Now it greets me daily in the mirror fine lines around my eyes, a hint of fatigue in my gaze.

Mark lay breathing calmly beside me. He didnt stir when I slipped out from under the blanket. He slept soundly, oblivious to the fact that with each passing year I am becoming less interesting to him. I glanced at the clock: 5:30. There was still a lot to do before the guests arrived.

After quietly closing the bedroom door, I headed to the kitchen. Today our flat was to become the meeting point of two worlds my family and Marks friends. It felt as though after all these years we never truly felt united. My old school friends had drifted away, while Marks circle remained unchanged the same faces, the same topics.

I brewed coffee and opened the fridge. The night before I had prepared everything: meat in a marinade, chopped vegetables, ingredients for salads. Now I had to turn those into a proper celebratory spread. Usually wed order in or go out, but this time it was a milestone. I wanted the warmth of home, something personal.

Mum, do you have two hundred pounds? a voice called from the kitchen doorway.

Sixteenyearold Jake stood there, dishevelled but already in jeans and a Tshirt.

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

The lads wanted to go cycling. Early, so we dont get burnt out. Ill be back this evening, just in time for the party.

Jake, do you remember what day it is?

He paused, then gave a sheepish smile.

Of course, its your birthday. I just didnt want to wake you up early thought Id wish you later.

Wont you stay and help me? Theres still so much

He looked guilty.

Mum, wed promised. Ill be back, and isnt Emily coming to help?

Shes still on her way, at the cottage with a friend. She should be back before six.

Well you always manage better than anyone, he shrugged.

I sighed. I used to be proud that everything rested on me. Now it only left me exhausted.

Go then. Just be home on time.

Jake planted a quick kiss on my cheek and vanished. A few seconds later the front door burst open.

By nine I was fully immersed in the preparations. The oven warmed for the roast, the vegetables waited to be sliced, the cheesecake batter rested under a towel. The air filled with the smell of fresh coffee and herbs.

Good morning, Mark called into the kitchen, dressed in wornout trainers. Why are you up so early?

What do you think? I replied calmly. The guests are due at six. Its a mountain of work.

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

He leaned in, brushing my cheek with a hint of mint and his familiar aftershave.

Thanks, I said, craving even a small gesture, a present, or at least a question: How can I help?

But Mark was already seated at the table, scrolling through his phone.

Arent you working today? I asked, cracking eggs.

No, its a day off. Sometimes you have to do something at home

Great. So will you help me set the table?

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

Three hours passed. Mark rolled into the living room, his attention captured by a football match he narrated with gusto.

Meanwhile I kept chopping, mixing, beating, baking, thinking: Forty years. This is how Im meeting the day

Exactly at three, the doorbell rang. I wiped my hands on a towel and went to answer. My younger sister, Emma, stood on the step with a bouquet of red carnations.

Happy birthday, love! Emma said, hugging me with one arm. I came early to lend a hand. Still working?

Ive been on my feet since dawn, I invited her in. Guests arrive at six, but Im glad youre here.

Wheres the festive outfit? Emma glanced at my plain Tshirt and faded jeans.

There isnt one, I sighed, waving my hand. The salads arent finished, the cake isnt decorated, the settings arent ready

Got it, Emma said seriously, peering into the kitchen. Assessing the scale, she turned back to the hallway. Is Mark clueless?

He is busy.

From the living room came a muffled shout: What are you doing, you useless? Get moving!

All clear, Emma muttered. Ill free him now.

She strode into the living room. I heard her energetically urging Mark, but didnt listen. Soon Mark entered the kitchen with a sour expression.

So? What do you need? he growled.

Could you set the table in the sitting room? I replied evenly. Emma, please help him with the dishes.

The next few hours passed without major arguments. Mark, though reluctant, followed Emmas directions. He disappeared into the TV now and then, but managed to get things done. By fiveodd the main tasks were finished. I finally felt the weight of exhaustion: my shoulders ached, my legs trembled, and an entire evening of celebration still lay ahead.

Go change, Emma said gently, nudging me out of the kitchen. Ive got this.

I slipped into the bedroom. In the wardrobe hung a new darkblue dress bought especially for this occasion elegant, with a nice neckline. I had neither the energy nor the desire for makeup or an elaborate hairstyle. I pulled on the familiar black work dress, freshened my face, brushed on a bit of lipstick, and returned to the guests just as the doorbell rang again.

By six the flat was full. Parents, longtime couple friends, Marks colleagues, and a few children arrived. Emily brought a fashionable cake from a boutique bakery, and Jake handed over a card hed apparently bought on the way home.

I greeted the guests with a strained smile. My head buzzed, and I couldnt even slip away for a quick tablet everyone kept asking for something. Then Mark suddenly perked up: joking, pouring drinks generously, and, demonstratively, hugging me each time someone raised a toast in my honour.

Finally everyone sat down. I served the main dish roast meat, my signature, reliable offering.

Helen, maybe we dont need so many salads, Mark murmured as I plated the potato salad. Theres already enough mayo. Lately youve been

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

The meat turned out a bit dry, Mark announced loudly as he cut a slice. Probably overcooked.

I think its perfect, my mother interjected immediately.

Im not being cruel, Mark raised his hands. Just last time it was a bit juicier.

I said nothing, chewing silently, eyes fixed on my plate. What should have been a cosy evening felt like yet another humiliation, performed in front of witnesses.

One toast after another followed. Some wished career advancement, others beauty and youth. Parents prayed for health and patience. Eventually Mark stood.

He lifted his glass and addressed the room:

I want to wish my wife a happy fortieth. This age is serious, but Helen is holding up remarkably well. For her age, shes still quite something.

A nervous chuckle rippled through the table.

although, of course, she could look after herself a bit more, he added, his smile smug. But we love you anyway. To you, darling!

Silence fell. Glasses rose reluctantly, smiles tight. Most eyes averted; no one wanted to meet Helens gaze. She sat frozen, staring at the tablecloth. All the suppressed feelings rose from deep inside.

I stood slowly.

Thank you for the wishes, I whispered and left the room.

From the bedroom door came the low murmur of conversations that soon turned into ordinary chatter. No one followed me. Not even Mark.

I went to the mirror. In the reflection was a tired woman, eyes dulled, hair disheveled, looking completely ordinary. When had I stopped being myself? How had I allowed this?

As if in another world, I opened the wardrobe and retrieved that same darkblue dress, saved for this night. I slipped it on carefully, adjusted the neckline, dusted off the earrings Mark had given me when his words still sounded loving, not reproachful.

From a shelf I took the pair of heels Id worn at my wedding they still fit perfectly.

I dialed a familiar number.

Vicky, hi. Its me. Its my birthday I know its sudden, but can we meet? I dont want to be alone tonight. How about The Ivy in half an hour? Great, Ill book a table.

I hung up, glanced again at the mirror. The woman looking back was different back straight, eyes clear, a faint smile returning. Confidence was creeping back.

When I stepped into the sitting room, everyone fell silent. Their eyes turned to me. Mark stared, surprised.

Wow, look at you! he exclaimed. Now thats a proper birthday look. Why didnt you change earlier? Come on over!

For the first time all day I smiled genuinely.

No, Mark, Im not staying.

What?! he protested. Why?

After everything thats been said, should I just sit here pretending Im happy? No. Ive decided to mark this day my way. A taxi will be here in a few minutes; Im heading to a restaurant with a friend.

Youre joking, right? This humiliation? It was a joke! Mark gestured wildly, looking at the guests for support.

Every joke I began, then stopped. Actually, it doesnt matter. Im leaving. Thank you all, and have a lovely evening.

I turned and walked toward the door. My sister grabbed my arm.

Helen, maybe you shouldnt? Emma whispered. He didnt mean to hurt you

Emma, I said calmly, looking straight into her eyes, Ive heard those words for sixteen years. Maybe he really didnt mean it. But Im done tolerating this, especially on my own day.

I pulled Emma close and stepped out.

The hallway was quiet and cool. As I descended the stairs, it felt as if a weight lifted from my shoulders each step made breathing easier. The defence Id built had finally crumbled; nothing held me back any longer.

What lies ahead I didnt know. Perhaps Mark will finally understand. Perhaps not. But now, at forty, I felt alive for the first time in ages.

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 in my bag. It was Marks name. I didnt look, just silenced it.

This evening belonged only to me. And only I decided how to live it.