The library smelled of dust and fading ink, a quiet sanctuary where Drishti had built her second home. Her fingers moved carefully across the spines of the books she had arranged a hundred times before, but tonight felt different. The calendar at the desk reminded her—it was her birthday.

For most people, birthdays were a chance to be celebrated, to feel wanted, but for Drishti, they had always been quiet affairs. She never asked for more than life could give her. Money had always been scarce, but dreams were abundant, and it was her stubborn ambition that kept her from collapsing under the weight of her reality.

She tucked a strand of her brown hair behind her ear and let her blue eyes wander through the windowpane, catching the fading streaks of twilight. He’ll remember today, she thought, her heart carrying that familiar hope. Advik—her boyfriend for five long years. He had been her comfort through adolescence, her anchor in storms she never spoke of. Surely, tonight would be different.

But as her phone remained silent, the screen unlit, unease began to creep in.

Her only true confidante, Aarna, slid into the chair beside her, her voice low but laced with concern.

“Happy birthday, Drishti,” she whispered, placing a small chocolate wrapped in foil on the table.

Drishti smiled, warmth flickering in her chest. “Thank you. You always remember.”

Aarna hesitated, her gaze lingering on Drishti’s face before she spoke again. “You know… maybe you should stop expecting too much from Advik. I don’t think he values you the way you deserve.”

Drishti frowned, the words striking sharper than she expected. “Why would you say that?”

“Because,” Aarna replied softly, “he’s been seen with someone else. More than once.”

The air around Drishti thickened. For a moment, she could hear nothing but the ticking of the library clock. Her lips parted to deny it, to laugh it off as a mistake, but no sound came. The shadows in the corners of the library seemed to lean closer, whispering doubts she wasn’t ready to hear.

Finally, she shook her head. “No… Advik wouldn’t. Not him.”

Yet, when she closed her eyes that night, alone in her narrow bed, the silence pressed heavier than ever. Her birthday candle had burned out hours ago, unsnuffed, forgotten—like her.