The Silent Tears of a Forgotten Friend

The clock struck 11:49 PM as I stood outside her home, my breath visible in the icy air. Her birthday was only minutes away, and despite my hectic schedule, I had managed to get her a cake. Money was insignificant in friendship, what mattered was the gesture. I had ordered the cake through DoorDash and made my way to her place, expecting a simple celebration. But nothing could have prepared me for what unfolded that night.

As I stepped inside, I saw her roommates excitedly decorating the house, their laughter filling the space with warmth. My eyes caught sight of someone I once called my best friend, Mr. Diganth. He was eagerly arranging balloons, moving around freely as if this were his home. I had never even been upstairs in her house, yet he wandered around as if he belonged. The sight of him fueled the silent storm inside me, but I masked my emotions. Whatever had happened between us, he had once been my best friend, my bestieeee.

He noticed me. For a moment, he stopped what he was doing. Our eyes met, and then, without a word, he turned and walked upstairs. I didn’t know where he went. I didn’t care. The bitterness that had taken root in my heart grew deeper, but I swallowed it down. I had come to celebrate, and that’s what I would do.

Midnight arrived. I took out my phone to call the birthday girl, but she didn’t pick up. I shrugged it off and continued helping with the decorations. A few moments later, my phone rang. Stepping outside into the freezing night, I answered. The wind howled, and snowflakes kissed my skin as I spoke in hushed tones. Then, through the silence, I heard it, muffled voices, then raised ones, coming from upstairs.

Curiosity turned to heartbreak as the words sank in.

“Why did he come? I don’t want to celebrate my birthday. Tell him to leave.”

I froze. My heartbeat pounded in my ears.

Her elder roommate tried to calm her. “He came to celebrate your birthday. Just come and enjoy.”

And then, the final blow, Diganth’s voice, casual and cutting, “He’s a chutiya, you know. Come on, enjoy.”

Tears welled up in my eyes. My so-called best friend. The person I had once trusted the most, mocking me like I was nothing. The person I had put so much faith in, now laughing at my expense. My hands trembled. My throat tightened. I wanted to run, to disappear into the snow, to erase the pain gnawing at my soul.

But I didn’t. I stayed.

I forced a smile. I walked back inside, pretending nothing had happened, pretending my heart wasn’t shattered into pieces. The birthday girl eventually came downstairs, her face glowing with joy. She looked at me as if I were just another guest, just another face in the crowd. I wished her, handed her the cake, and watched as she celebrated with everyone, except me.

She fed cake to everyone. When my turn came, I gave her a piece, wishing hoping she would return the gesture. But she didn’t. She moved on, laughing, celebrating with others, as if my presence was insignificant. I sat there, holding back the tears, forcing myself to endure the moment.

When the party ended, they offered me food. I refused. “No thanks. I have some work.”

I walked out into the freezing night, wearing only a pullover and slippers. The cold bit into my skin, but I barely felt it. My heart ached more than the winter’s chill. I walked aimlessly through the snow covered streets, my mind clouded with questions that had no answers.

Why does everyone ignore me? Why does no one value me? Why do I always end up alone?

Tears blurred my vision. I stopped in the middle of the road, the world around me disappearing into the snowfall. For five long minutes, I stood still, trapped in my thoughts. Then, the sharp sound of a car horn pulled me back to reality. I wiped my tears and walked home, my heart heavier than ever.

That night, I didn’t eat. I collapsed into bed, the weight of everything pressing down on me. The next morning, guilt gnawed at me. I hadn’t given her a gift. Even after everything that had happened, I still wanted to. Foolish, wasn’t I?

I went to Walmart and bought her a hat and a pillow. A hat, because she looked good in it. A pillow, because I thought it would help her rest while studying. I wrote a small letter, placed it in a bag, and walked to her house. I rang the doorbell. No answer. I hung the bag on the door handle and left without a word.

Later that day, she messaged me, thanking me for the gift. I replied with a simple acknowledgment and said nothing more.

Days passed. Diganth and I drifted apart completely. She moved into a new place with him and another girl. My gifts? She had left them behind, discarded like unwanted memories. I took them back, using them for myself, each item a reminder of how blind I had been. How foolish.

But they took the job I had referred them to. That, they could accept. My friendship? Never.

I have learned my lesson. Some people don’t deserve the space they occupy in your heart. Some friendships are better left as memories, as lessons learned.

Let them be strangers.

Someday, someone will value me for who I am. Not these people. Not these fake friendships.

And until then, I will wait.

- Prajwal Devaraj